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Dave Dashaway, the Young Aviator

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<h2 id='chapX' class='c001'>CHAPTER X</h2> <div class='nf-center-c0'> <div class='nf-center c004'> <div>AT THE HANGARS</div> </div></div> “Hello there, what’s struck you?” cried Dollinger. The chauffeur and general utility man of the moving picture combination dropped a big spoon with which he was stirring something in a pan outside of the shed. Near by was a tripod with an oil lamp burning under it. Dave understood that Dollinger was preparing breakfast. Dave did not reply. He could not, at just that moment. It seemed to him as though at the touch of a magician’s wand his whole life had been changed—as if the most ardent desires of his heart had been granted. The day previous, if some genii had promised to gratify one special wish, Dave would have asked to be put among just such airships and in the company of just such airmen. Now all that he had desired was before him. Circling majestically aloft was a big biplane. Way over at the end of the enclosure was an elevated apparatus, from which an airship of another type was evidently making a trial ascent. The machine rose only a few yards, described a half circle, and had to be hoisted up again and again. Between it and the sheds were several small buildings, and at least two of these held some kind of air craft. The one in flight finally enchained the entire attention of Dave. He watched it till it had made a score of dizzying manoeuvres, and returned to the ground at the far end of the enclosure as graceful as a bird and as easily as if landing on springs. “Sets you dreaming, does it?” demanded Dollinger with a grin, slapping Dave on the shoulder to wake him up. “Oh, it’s just glorious!” cried Dave, with sparkling eyes. “Mr. Dollinger, what place is this?” “Why, the aero park, of course.” “You don’t mean where they have had the big meet?” inquired Dave breathlessly. “That’s it.” “Oh, my—and I’ve got in, too!” cried Dave in a dazzled sort of way. “Why, yes,” replied Dollinger, “though that don’t count for much just now. You see, nothing’s going on.” “Nothing going on!” cried Dave, gazing at the airship aloft and then across the broad field beyond him. “I mean as a show. The meet closed yesterday.” “But all those airships?” “Most of them will move over to Dayton, where they have another meet next week.” “I hope Mr. King has not got away yet,” Dave said to himself. “Come on, get a hot cup of coffee and some warmed-up pork and beans into you, and you can go back to your wonder staring, if you like,” said Dollinger. He had arranged a fine breakfast from his stores. Dave felt a sense of gratitude and satisfaction as he realized his novel and pleasant situation. “Everything is turning out just as I hoped it would,” he reflected. “If only I hadn’t lost that pocket book, and if Mr. Warner doesn’t get track of me.” Dave insisted on helping Dollinger clean up and pack away the things used for breakfast. “Are you going to stay here for awhile, Mr. Dollinger?” he asked. “Oh, yes, all day, I understand,” replied Dollinger. “I don’t know the exact orders until Mr. Alden comes along. He told me, though, yesterday that we wouldn’t make any further move till to-morrow. Why do you ask, lad?” “I wanted to look about a bit.” “Go straight ahead,” directed Dollinger heartily. “Say,” he added, with a droll grin, “thinking of sticking to us?” “Who wouldn’t!” cried Dave—“the way you treat folks.” “Well, you’re mighty welcome company,” declared Dollinger in a friendly way. “Willing and useful, too. I shouldn’t wonder if Mr. Alden could find a place for you with the party.” Dave did not commit himself by making a direct reply. His heart was set on airships, and he ardently hoped there would be some chance for him in that field. “If I fail, I can fall back on the moving picture crowd,” he mused. “I really like the business.” Dave left the automobile with the zest and eagerness of a boy starting out to see a big show for the first time. He headed for the far corner of the grounds where animated scenes were in progress. Just then, however, a broad low-wheeled wagon to which two horses were attached came along. It was seemingly conveying a large-sized monoplane out of the grounds for repairs. Dave noticed that the machine was somewhat battered up. He had never been so near to an airship before, and he followed the wagon in a sort of fascinated way. Once he reached out his hand and touched one wing of the machine. It positively made his finger tips thrill. When it reached the big gates of the enclosure, the same old man who had admitted the automobile the evening previous opened them for wagon and airship to pass out. There were several people bustling around the little building near the gate which was the office of the grounds. One brisk individual seemed to be the manager. Dave, standing around full of everything that was going on, noticed that this man was arranging affairs for departing airmen. A lank poorly-dressed boy stopped the man as he was called to the office. “Say, Mister, can you tell me where I’ll find this man?” The boy held out a crumpled soiled card, at which the manager glanced quickly and then brushed by, saying: “Mr. King? You’ll find him down at the hangars.” “What’s them, now?” stared the boy. “Do you know?” he inquired turning quickly upon Dave, who stood at his elbow. “I declare I don’t,” replied Dave with a laugh. “I’ve seen the word in print, and I know it refers to some part of the grounds here, but I don’t exactly understand it.” “Well, I’ve got to find out. I’ve got to see this Mr. King.” “Is he the airship man?” asked Dave. “That’s him. Say, where are the hangars?” persisted the lad, addressing the old gate keeper. “Why, down there, of course,” was the reply, and the speaker pointed to the buildings at the other end of the field, where the airships were housed. “I’ll go with you down that way,” said Dave, “if you don’t mind.” “Of course not,” replied his companion. Dave wondered what the awkward countrified youth was doing on the aviation field, and what business he could have with Mr. King. He decided that this was his chance to meet the man whom he had traveled so far to see. Dave’s companion did not explain his mission. He acted and walked like a fagged out person who had not had much sleep or a great deal to eat for some time. He was dusty and travel worn, and made Dave think of a raw country bumpkin starting out in life to find some work other than that of the farm. He had an innocent, credulous face, but showed a certain doughty spirit, as if he was very much in earnest as to what he was about and intended to stick to it. There was a good deal stirring around the hangars. Everything was airships and airmen. Over beyond the hangars some of the machines were in action. Dave’s companion kept on asking about Mr. King, and at length his search was rewarded. He came finally to a portable tarred canvas house. One end of it held a monoplane, which both boys regarded with interest through the half open door. Near an open door at the other end of the building an old man was pottering around with a pail and a brush. Dave’s companion ran up to him. “Say, Mister,” he bolted out in his usual unceremonious way, “I want to see Mr. King.” “Oh, you do, eh?” retorted the crabbed old fellow. “Well, you sit down on that bench yonder and wait your turn, will you?” Dave and his companion did as the man directed. The boy looked sharply at Dave. “Say,” he observed, “you going to stay here and wait, too?” Dave nodded an assent. The boy looked anxious. “Got business with Mr. King?” he inquired. “Why, yes,” replied Dave. “He lost something, and I want to tell him about it.” “Oh, that’s it,” spoke the boy with a great sigh of relief. “I was afraid you was after a job. If you was, I got here first.” “Oh, you can see Mr. King first,” said Dave. “Some one is with him now.” The walls of the frail canvas structure were thin. Sounds readily penetrated to the outside air. Two persons seemed to be in the room beyond the open door. One of them was speaking now. These words fell upon the hearing of the two listeners. “You’d better give Jerry another chance, Mr. King.” “Another chance?” shouted a deep angry voice. “If your boy ever comes around here again I’ll horsewhip him within an inch of his life, Mr. Dawson, and I want you to make yourself scarce, too!” <div class='pbb'></div> <hr class='pb c000' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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