CHAPTER XIX
ANOTHER MISTAKE
ANOTHER MISTAKE
ANOTHER MISTAKE
Dave Dashaway’s limbs were stiff and his lips were sore. He could not move nor speak. He tried to smile to reassure the farmer boy, who looked startled and scared.
The latter swept aside the loose litter of straw and bags. The minute he got a view of Dave’s condition he turned pale, jumped down from the wheel hub and shouted out wildly:
“Father, father—come here quick!”
The dog kept running around the wagon making a great ado. Finally some one seemed to come from the house in response to the call of the farmer boy, for a voice inquired:
“What’s the row here?”
“A boy in that wagon box.”
“Some tramp, I suppose.”
“But he’s all tied up with ropes. There’s even something tied in his mouth, so he can’t talk—only stare and grin.”
“You don’t say!”
“Yes, I do. Look for yourself.”
“Well! well! well!”
As the farmer lifted himself up on the wagon box and took a look at Dave, his eyes grew big as saucers. He felt along the cord coming tightly across Dave’s cheeks and of the rope binding his body.
“Jared, run into the house, quick, and get your mother’s scissors,” he ordered.
The old man hoisted himself to the edge of the wagon box, and simply gaped at Dave, as if too puzzled to figure out how his strange situation had come about.
“Here’s the scissors, father,” finally reported the boy, who had hurried into the house and out of it again.
The old man went to work on Dave as tenderly as if he had been a kitten. He carefully snipped the gag cords.
“Bless me!” he said, as he noticed the big red welts across Dave’s face. “This is mighty cruel I tell you. Now then,” as he cut the ropes at hands and feet, “get up and tell us what this means.”
Dave tried to and failed. His tongue was so dry and swollen that he could not articulate. His whole body was numb and spiritless. The farmer saw his helplessness, ordered his son to let down the high tailboard of the wagon, and they gradually slid Dave to the ground and held him up.
Gentle mannered people these, Dave decided, and he was ashamed of himself for ever thinking that they were parties to the kidnapping plot of the two men who had captured him the night previous.
“Walk him a bit, Jared, softly now, softly,” the farmer said. “He’s in a mortal bad fix, circulation nigh stopped and weak as a cat. I reckon we’d better get him into the house.”
The farmer’s wife looked surprised as her husband carried Dave to a couch in the family sitting room and placed him upon it.
“Why, what’s this?” she exclaimed.
“It’s either a measly trick or attempted killing,” replied the old man indignantly. “Speak up, lad, how did you come in that plight?”
“Water!” was all that Dave could choke out, and the good housewife soon had a glass at his lips.
“Don’t stand gawking at the poor fellow and pestering him with questions,” cried the farmer’s wife. “He needs some good hot coffee and some strengthening food to brace him up,” and the speaker hurried to the kitchen, where Dave could hear the sizzling of bacon.
“I can talk to you now, sir,” he said, but weakly, taking another gulp of the reviving water. “I was kidnapped.”
“Hey!” ejaculated the farmer, with a start.
“Yes, sir.”
“In my wagon?”
“That was a mistake, I believe. Two rough men were hired to tie me up and gag me and put me in a wagon in waiting outside of the aero grounds. They mistook yours for the one they should have put me in.”
“Gracious!”
“They went back into the grounds, and you came along and drove me off with you before they returned.”
“You don’t mean to say you’ve been lying in that wagon ever since last evening?”
“I do,” replied Dave.
“Why didn’t you kick and holler?”
“How could I?”
“That’s so. Well, you just get a bit of breakfast and mended up, and I’ll drive you back to town. I hope you intend to get those critters arrested.”
“I certainly shall try and find them,” said Dave.
In a very few minutes our hero was as good as ever, as the saying goes. He was young, healthy, active, and as soon as his blood got to circulating, the stiffness and soreness began to go away.
He was better than ever, he told himself, after a breakfast so elegant, home-like, and plentiful, that he made the farmer’s wife flush with pleasure over his compliments.
The farmer’s boy took particular interest in Dave, when he learned that he was employed among “the balloon men.” Dave did not go into details or mention names, for he did not want anything to get out about his kidnapping until he had consulted Mr. King.
He was anxious and glad, when two hours later, the farmer drew up his horse at the main entrance to the aero grounds. Dave made the man accept a dollar for all his trouble, which the farmer took reluctantly, saying he would invest it in kitchen aprons for his wife. Dave also told him how to send word to him, if he wished to visit the meet any day during the week.
“You can count on free passes,” said Dave.
“Thank you, that will be fine,” nodded the delighted farmer as he drove off.
Dave dashed breathlessly through the big gateway. He had simply to lift his hand to the gatekeeper, who passed him in with a nod, knowing him and not requiring him to show his entrance ticket. Then Dave ran down the course, heading in the direction of the hangars. All his former anxieties came back to him. He was safe and free himself, but what had happened after his two captors had disposed of him?
“They had tools, they talked of theAegis,” soliloquized Dave. “They were up to some harm for Mr. King, just the same as myself. Oh, dear, I hope nothing has happened to the monoplane!”
Dave passed the building where Hiram made his headquarters. That friend would of course know of his strange spell of absence. Hiram could probably relieve his present worry or heighten it, but Dave felt that his first duty was to his employer.
“Hold on, there. Hi, stop, Dave—Dave Dashaway!”
This call was bawled out from a window in the building Dave had just passed. At once he recognized the voice of his friend. Turning and half halting, Dave made out Hiram waving his hand frantically.
“Can’t stop—see you later,” shouted Dave.
“Must stop.”
Hiram never waited to make for a door. He jumped recklessly from the window, ran down the road, and overtook his friend.
“Say,” he cried, all excitement and curiosity, “where have you been?”
“Long story. Want to see Mr. King first. Have you seen him?”
“Have I seen him?” repeated Hiram volubly. “He woke me up at midnight, worried to death about you. Made me get up and join him in a search. He said it wasn’t like you to be off skylarking, with all there was to think about, arrange and do for today’s flight.”
“He was right there.”
“I knew it, and told him so,” said Hiram. “Then he got thinking there was foul play somewhere.”
“There was,” assented Dave.
“That Jerry Dawson?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Not positively. Keep along with me, and I’ll tell you all about it. I’m on pins and needles till I reach Mr. King. Say, Hiram, answer me one question.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Has anything happened to theAegis?”
“Why, what could happen?” inquired Hiram in a puzzled way.
“It’s all right?”
“It was an hour ago, when I was up at the camp. Mr. King was oiling things up himself, and in a great stew about you, but theAegiswas the same old beauty.”
Dave heaved an immense sigh of relief. They were just then passing the shed into which he had run to escape his pursuers the evening previous. Dave was about to point it out to his companion and relate his adventures, when he noticed a big placard on the side of the shed.
“What’s that, Hiram?” he asked.
“Oh, that?” repeated Hiram. “It’s the talk of the meet. That’s Marvin’s monoplane, you know.”
“Yes,” nodded Dave.
“Well, some one sneaked into the hangar last night, when all hands were away, and wrecked the machine.”
“Why!” exclaimed Dave suddenly—and then added to himself: “I understand!”
“That placard,” continued Hiram, “is an offer of a reward of one hundred dollars for the detection of the vandals who did the dastardly work.”