CHAPTER XIII.JUKES DADE APPEARS.
CHAPTER XIII.
JUKES DADE APPEARS.
The aviation field at Acatonick a few days before the big contests for juvenile aviators was alive with action and color. The spot selected was a flat, smooth field of some fifty acres on the outskirts of the town.
The grass spread a green carpet, thickly sprinkled with wild flowers, while at one side of the place was a row of green-painted sheds known as the “hangars.”
“Hangar is French for shed,” Peggy had explained to a group of friends from Sandy Bay whom she was showing over the grounds, “and I think thatshedis a whole lot better word than ‘Ongar,’ which is the way you are supposed to pronounce it.”
One of the sheds—as in deference to Peggy we shall call them—was of a different color, andstood somewhat apart from the rest. It was also much larger and bore in consequential-looking letters over its door the words:
“Harding Aeroplane Company. Keep Out.”
And to see that this notice was enforced to the letter, Fanning Harding had installed a red-nosed watchman with a formidable club at the portal. Considerable secrecy, in fact, had been observed concerning his aeroplane. Several large boxes had arrived one night and been hustled as quickly as possible into the shed.
The shed assigned to Roy Prescott, happened, by an odd coincidence, to be next door to the Harding one. The second day of their stay at Acatonick, Roy, on coming down to the field from the hotel at which he and Peggy and Miss Prescott were stopping, was much surprised to be greeted by Fanning, with some effusiveness.
After a lot of preliminary hemming and hawing, Fanning broached to Roy once more the proposition of selling the Golden Butterfly.
“But I thought you had a fine type of aeroplaneof your own,” said Roy, wondering at this renewal of Fanning’s offer.
“So I have,” was the rejoinder, “but now that I have established my business on a paying business basis I can handle another type. You know mine is a biplane model.”
Roy nodded. He had no liking for Fanning, but the other was so effusive that he felt it was incumbent on him to meet the other lad half way, as the saying is.
“I’d like to have a look at your craft sometime,” he said.
“Not much you won’t,” rejoined Fanning, quickly, “you’ll see her on the day she wins the big prize and not before.”
“You seem to have it won already,” rejoined Roy, rather contemptuously.
“Oh, yes,” was the confident reply, “I’m going to simply fly rings round you and the rest, so you’d better take up my offer now, for after the race your Golden Butterfly stock won’t be worth a penny.”
“I’m not so certain about that,” was the answer.
“Then you won’t take up my offer. I’ll raise it another two hundred.”
Roy smiled and shook his head. Something in his refusal angered the other lad.
“Well as you wish,” he said, strolling off, “but dad has been pretty lenient with you up to date. As you won’t meet us half way, though I’m going to advise him to force you to sell the Golden Butterfly.”
“How?”
“By foreclosing that mortgage without further delay.”
Fanning whipped the words out with a vicious intonation. All his mean nature surged up into his face as he spoke. Roy breathed a little quicker. But outwardly he was calm and cold as ice.
“That’s your privilege,” he said shortly, turning away, but that night he and Peggy had a troubled discussion about ways and means, andit became more than ever evident to them how much depended on winning the five thousand dollar prize.
There were several aspirants in the juvenile class on the grounds as well as fliers of more mature years, for Mr. Higgins had interested some other capitalists, and it had been decided to make quite an event out of the aerial meet.
On the day before the race, which meant so much to them, Peggy and Roy decided to take a practice spin across country in their ’plane. The capable looking machine excited much favorable comment when it was wheeled out of its shed. Several of the other competitors gathered about it while the engine was being tuned up. Among them was a surly looking chap with a dark, roughly-shaven chin and a pair of shifty eyes. He stood beside Fanning Harding, who was also in the crowd about the Golden Butterfly.
The Sandy Bay boy gazed on with a sneering look while our two young aviators got everythingin readiness. This took some time for everybody was anxious to take a hand in the work, and it was quite a task to kindly, but steadfastly, reject these offers, well meant as they were.
At last everything appeared to be in good shape and with a buzz and a whirr the engine was tried out. It worked perfectly, and before the crowd had had time to cheer, the aeroplane shot up from the ground in front of its shed with hardly any preliminary run. Then came a belated cheer.
“That’s the craft that wins the big prize,” said a stout, good-natured looking man.
“Don’t you be so certain,” snapped out Fanning Harding, who stood close by, and to whom the words were gall.
“Why, what’s the matter with you, my young friend,” asked the jovial man; “you must be meaning to get it yourself.”
“That’s right,” was the confident reply.
“Well, don’t count your aerial chicks before they’re hatched,” was the merry rejoinder. Alaugh at Fanning’s expense went up from the crowd. The boy flushed angrily and strode off in the direction of his hangar.
“Confound that young Jackanapes of a Roy Prescott,” he muttered, as he went; “he gets ahead of me every time. But I’ll fix him. Pop needs that land, and if Roy wins this race the Prescotts can pay off that mortgage and be on the road to riches. Well, I guess I’ll settle all that. But I’ll have to act quickly.”
“You seem to be sore on that Prescott boy,” came a voice at his shoulder suddenly.
Fanning turned quickly to find himself confronted by the unprepossessing individual who had stood at his side during the start of the Golden Butterfly, which was by this time almost out of sight in the eastward.
“Why, what do you know about it?” he asked, sharply.
“Well,” was the rejoinder, “being an observing sort of an individual I figured out that youwere not best pleased at seeing what a fine aeroplane that kid has. Right, ain’t I?”
He coolly took from his pocket a disgusting-looking cigar stump and proceeded to light it, leering impudently into Fanning’s face the while.
“Well, may be you are and then again you may not be,” was the Sandy Bay youngster’s cautious reply; “but how does it interest you?”
“Because I haven’t any more use for him than you have, and if you make it worth my while I’ll give you a bit of information that will be of value to you.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Fanning, beginning to listen with more attention than he had hitherto shown.
“Just this, that I’m Jukes Dade, who used to work for Mr. Prescott years ago, but he discharged me for—for—well for a little fault of drinking I had. Come now, don’t you recognize me?”
“By George, I do,” exclaimed Fanning; “but it was so many years ago you were with Mr.Prescott that I hardly knew you. You have changed greatly.”
“I may have,” was the reply in bitter tones. “I’ve been through enough. But there’s one thing I ain’t never forgotten in all these years, and that is my resolve to get even on old man Prescott.”
“But he is dead,” put in Fanning, wondering at the baleful expression of hatred that had come into the man’s face.
“All true enough. I heard that some time ago. But if I can injure the son in any way, I’d like to do it. I’ve got a wrong to avenge, and if you want to pay well to have Roy Prescott put out of the race to-morrow I’m your man.”
“Hush, don’t talk so loud. Some folks over there are looking at us.”
“Oh, well, if you’re afraid to––”
“No, no, that isn’t it. I must prevent Roy winning that race to-morrow at all hazards. Come into my hangar and we can talk quietly.”
“Ah, that’s the talk,” was the rejoinder, andJukes Dade chuckled with grim delight. “You want a little job of work done to settle our friend’s hash. Well, you’ve come to the right shop when you meet up with old Jukes Dade who has an axe of his own to grind.”