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Dave Dashaway, the Young Aviator

<h2 id='chapXX' class='c001'>CHAPTER XX</h2> <div class='nf-center-c0'> <div class='nf-center c004'> <div>IN TRAINING</div> </div></div> Dave did not speak nor linger. His quick mind was thinking very actively, though. He fancied he understood what the wrecking of the Marvin monoplane meant now. As they passed the open doorway of the shed Dave could see a crowd inside inspecting the monoplane it contained. A man he recognized as Mr. Marvin, the wealthy amateur airman, was moving about restlessly and talking in an exciting tone. “It’s a blazing shame!” broke out Hiram. “Mr. Marvin intended trying a flight himself to-day. Everybody was encouraging him, and pleased about it. He’s been awful kind to the air folks, you know.” “Yes, I’ve heard about him,” said Dave. “He donated several of the medals last meet, and made up losses for the crowd where things didn’t pay.” “Do they suspect anybody?” asked Dave. “No,” replied Hiram, shaking his head slowly. Then he flashed a shrewd look at Dave, full in the face, and bolted out the quick challenge: “Do you?” Dave changed color. He walked on a little faster. “Why, yes, I do, Hiram, to tell you the truth,” he replied. “Who is it?” “I don’t like to say, Hiram, till I am sure.” “Say, Dave Dashaway,” declared Hiram. “I can bet who it is, first shot. It’s Jerry Dawson, and you’ve been through a big tussle, for your face is all marked up and you look peaked and worried. Isn’t it that Dawson fellow, now?” Dave was silent. “Say,” stormed Hiram, “if you don’t answer, I’ll start right out and find young Dawson, and knock the truth out of him, along with all the rest of his meanness.” “You must do nothing of the sort, Hiram,” remonstrated Dave. “You mustn’t guess anything, or mix up things, until I have seen Mr. King.” “You make a fellow mighty curious.” “You will know all about it soon,” promised Dave. “There is Mr. King now.” Our hero hurried forward as he saw just outside the Aegis hangar his employer and old Grimshaw. Mr. King uttered a glad cry as his eye fell on Dave. The old trainer nodded as pleasantly as his grim face would allow. “Why, Dashaway, where have you been?” asked Mr. King quickly, looking Dave over as he would a runaway aeroplane returned. “Oh, I’ve had a little adventure that isn’t worth the telling, with all there is to do here this morning,” declared Dave evasively, pulling off his coat and making a great ado of seeking some immediate work. Dave had made up his mind to defer any explanation until later in the day. He realized that it would disturb his employer to relate his adventures and suspicions. Mr. King, too, was a hasty man. Dave knew that it would be just like him to rush off to Mr. Marvin, charge the Dawsons with the wrecking of his monoplane, and become generally unnerved for his critical duties of the day. Later Dave learned that the men who had kidnapped him had displaced three important parts of the Marvin monoplane. This had rendered it impossible to use the machine for the day. They had probably thrown the stolen parts into some pit or creek. It was evident that the two vandals had blundered all along the line. They had supposed that the shed where they had cornered Dave was the Aegis hangar, and had dismantled the wrong machine. Dave became so active, and there was so much to do, that he soon drifted his employer’s thoughts from himself. Mr. King insisted on some explanation, however, and Dave evaded direct information by saying he had got into a farm wagon by mistake, was carted away, and slept in the vehicle all night. Within an hour Dave and his own little personal affairs were obscured and forgotten for the time being, amid trials of skill and the general environment of an aero meet. As soon as the programme for the day was started, it was one engrossing novelty and thrill after another. The Aegis was in for the altitude race. Dave was doubly glad that he had not bothered his employer with the real explanation of his absence the night before. The airman was a superb picture of courage, confidence and expertness as the Aegis bounded from earth and rose in the lead over the fleet of airships entered for the contest. Dave helped in skidding the machine at the start, and was promptly on hand when the Aegis sailed gracefully down to its starting point with a score of six hundred extra feet to the Fairfield record. Mr. King was busy after that consulting with and aiding other aviators in their scheduled feats. Dave was just finishing a cold lunch at the hangar, when old Grimshaw poked his head into view past an open doorway. “Off duty, lad?” he inquired, his twinkling eyes telling Dave that he had something on his mind. “Why, Mr. King has finished his part in the programme,” replied Dave. “I’ve cleaned up the Aegis, and just waiting for orders.” “Well, I’ve just seen him, and it’s all right. Like to make some extra money, Dashaway?” “Always ready for that,” replied Dave. “Then you come with me,” directed Grimshaw. “We’ve got a quiet corner over against the hangars, and I want you to put in all your spare time for the next two days on biplane practice.” “Anything special?” asked Dave, with a hopeful smile. “I’ll answer that when I see you do some grass cutting on the double whirl—which you’ll do,” replied Grimshaw with a chuckle. All that afternoon Dave was put through a series of trial flights by Grimshaw. The attention of the crowd was centered upon the main features of the course, and they were unhindered and practically unnoticed in their efforts. Dave made several rapid flights. “You’re going to do,” commended Grimshaw with great satisfaction, as Dave brought the biplane back to earth for the sixth time without jar or injury. “Do for what?” inquired Dave. “You come down here to-morrow at the same time. Next day, too. Then I’ll tell you something that will make your eyes snap.” “But why all this mystery, Mr. Grimshaw?” inquired Dave with a smile. “You do as I say, if you want to earn a record and some money as the aptest pupil I ever had,” was all that Grimshaw would explain. Dave was helping the man cook get supper ready at the hangar when Mr. King put in an appearance. The aviator was in high spirits, for the day had been a successful one for him. Dave told him about his experience with Grimshaw. The airman nodded pleasantly, as if he understood what was going on. Hiram came strolling along just as they finished their meal. Mr. King adjourned to a pile of benches not in use at a little distance from the hangar. He settled down into a comfortable attitude. “Now then, Dashaway,” he observed. “I’ve been too busy to bother with the mystery of your being away all last night. Not too busy, though, not to see that you didn’t tell enough about your being carted away in the wagon.” “Yes, Mr. King,” chimed in Hiram. “He’s got a big story to tell, and I’ve been dying with curiosity all day long to know what it is.” “Give us the story, Dashaway,” directed the airman. Dave recited his adventures of the evening previous. Mr. King expressed the profoundest wonderment as Dave gave the simple details of his mysterious kidnapping. His fine face broke out into indignation and anger as Hiram cried out eagerly: “Now then, Dave, tell him who was back of all this.” “Why, are you sure I know?” asked Dave hesitatingly. “It’s the Dawsons, Mr. King,” declared Hiram. “Listen,” and Hiram told about the two men whom he had seen conversing with Jerry Dawson. Mr. King sprang to his feet, deeply aroused. “So that is the secret of the wrecking of the Marvin machine,” he observed. “There is not the less doubt in my mind that the Dawsons are at the bottom of all this mischief. Now then, lads, I don’t want you to even lisp your suspicions to an outsider.” Both Dave and Hiram promised that they would obey the injunction. “I’m going to rid these meets of all this class of rascals, or know the reason,” declared the stirred-up airman with vehemence. “I shall have this affair run down to the limit, and if I fasten the business on the Dawsons, it will be a satisfaction to see them barred from all future aero meets.” Mr. King walked excitedly away in the direction of the Marvin hangar. The two friends remained on the bench pile discussing the case in its various bearings. Then Dave gave Hiram an inkling that Grimshaw had him in active training for some reason soon to develop. “I hope I’m going to get a chance to do something worth while in the aero line, Hiram,” he said. “How I used to dream about all this when I was back at Brookville.” “Was that where you lived, Dave?” “Yes.” And one confidence led to another, and Dave found an interested listener to the details of his past life. “Well, you’ve had quite an experience, haven’t you, Dave?” said Hiram. “That old guardian of yours is a mean one, and no mistake.” “I’m glad to be away from him,” said Dave. “Hello!” interrupted Hiram. He jumped down from the bench pile, as he noticed a slouching figure moving stealthily away from the other side of it. “Dave,” exclaimed Hiram, “do you know I believe that fellow has been listening to every word we said.” “Why, what of it?” asked Dave. “Don’t you know who he is?” “No.” “It’s a fellow named Brooks. He works around the hangars at odd jobs, and is a regular crony of Jerry Dawson. Hey, you,” shouted Hiram after the receding figure, “what you snooping around here, playing the eavesdropper, for?” “Huh!” retorted the other, “what you coming along for and waking up a fellow when he’s taking a nap in the cool of the evening?” Then the fellow walked on. There was a sneer and a menace in his vicious tones. “I don’t like it,” said Hiram, half to himself, “I don’t like anything or anybody that mixes up with Jerry Dawson.” <div class='pbb'></div> <hr class='pb c000' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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