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Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane

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<h1 id="id00765" style="margin-top: 5em">CHAPTER XI</h1> <h5 id="id00766">"N. A. L."</h5> "Stolen!" exclaimed Dave, in dismay. "It startles you?" spoke the manager of the Interstate Aeroplane concern. "So it did us." "But—" "You are mystified—unusual occurrence rather. You can follow the track of a stolen automobile. But when it comes to pursuing an airship, you won't find many familiar roads in the clouds." "How did it happen?" inquired Dave. "Why, we had tested the machine and it was to have been shipped to you yesterday. The day before, our expert made a very fine and satisfactory demonstration. The tanks were full, everything in perfect shape for another spurt early yesterday morning. During the night some one scaled the fence, evaded the watchman, and broke into the aerodrome." "It must have been some one familiar with the place here," suggested Dave. "We don't know that. It is certain, though, that they knew all about airships." "Why so?" "Because from the trail they left we could trace where they ran the machine outside. They gauged its ground run just right. They must have put on the muffler, for the watchman heard no sounds. Then they flew away." "Do you suspect anybody?" questioned Dave. "No." "Could it have been a business rival?" "Scarcely. We have some hard competitors, but we have canvassed the situation and do not believe they could afford to mix up in a deliberate steal." "It is strange," commented Dave, in a musing tone. "Our belief is that the Drifter was selected as the nearest and highest type of aircraft in existence. The people who stole it did so with some definite purpose in view." "What could that purpose be?" asked Dave. "We cannot as yet decide. One thing is certain—they will not venture to use it at any of the aero meets." "Then they must design to take it to a distance." "Of course." "You have no trace of it?" asked Dave. "None whatever. We can account for that, however. The night was dark, they started out when everybody was asleep, and they could have gone in one certain direction and struck a positive wilderness in a few hours time." "You mean north?" "Among the pineries, yes." "Or over the Canadian border?" "Exactly." Dave sat silent and thoughtful for some moments. The situation was a novel one. He had never heard of any one stealing an airship before. The Interstate manager aroused him from his reverie with the words: "We sent for you, Dashaway, because you are our most active man in the field." "That sounds pretty grand for a young fellow like me," returned Dave with a smile, and flushing up, too. "We gage out men by what they do," replied Mr. Randolph in a matter-of-fact tone. "We have found blood the best in our business. You have made good, Dashaway." "Thank you, sir." "Mr. King said you were the most promising aviator in the field." "Oh, he is always saying something good about me." "You proved it in your ideal work with the Baby Racer." "Who wouldn't, with any pride and that perfect machine?" challenged Dave. "That dash of yours after that Lyon order when you outwitted the Star people was simply brilliant. It showed your loyalty to us. The newspapers have given your hydroplane work so far the biggest kind of a send off." Dave was silent. He looked modest and embarrassed at all this praise. He could not, however, feel otherwise than pleased at all these eulogies bestowed upon him. "The Drifter has got to be found," resumed the manager. "It is our first perfected model, and we can hardly build its counterpart in time for full seasonal exhibitions. We think you are the man to find it, Dashaway." "Oh, Mr. Randolph," said Dave with a slight start. "I am expressing the opinion of the head men in the company here, who knew your good record. You are young, ambitious, a capable airman, and above all you are loyal to the interest of your employers." "I should hope it," exclaimed Dave, roused up to genuine emotion. "Just think—you picked me out, a mere boy, and trusted me. And see what you helped me do, already!" "Exactly," interrupted Mr. Randolph quickly. "That is just the point—you've outdone some of the veterans in the service and jumped to a high place in a bound. That's why we trust you." "I don't know about what you propose, though," said Dave, sobering down. "Yes, it's a pretty hard task to set. We're all at sea." "So am I," admitted Dave. "Put those keen wits of yours at work, Dashaway," urged the manager encouragingly. "I know after thinking this affair over you'll be ready to suggest something." "Well, all airmen should know of the theft of the Drifter, and be on the lookout." "We notified every association and meet in the country after we found that the newspapers had got onto the theft. That advertises it widely. The persons, however, who stole the Drifter knew that would come about. Rest assured of on point, therefore—they won't stay within range of possible identification any longer than they can help." "That's so," acknowledged Dave musingly. "The company wishes you to take charge of a search for the Drifter," went on Mr. Randolph. "Any machine we own, half a dozen of them if you like, are at your disposal. You may proceed regardless of the expense. If Mr. King could be induced to assist—" "I think he is under contract clear up to the end of the season," explained Dave. "Sorry for that, but he is such a good friend to you and to us, and I fancy he would gladly cooperate with advice and direction." "Yes, indeed," assented Dave. "We owe you a good deal more than your contract income already, Dashaway," said the manager. "I don't think there's an aviator living ever had a finer settlement than you will have if you succeed in running down the Drifter." "I'll try," said Dave. "That's capital." "Give me a few hours to think it over," suggested Dave. The young aviator left the Interstate plant very thoughtful and serious. Dave decided that he had assumed a big responsibility. He seemed to feel an actual ponderous weight on his young shoulders. A score of theories ran riot through his mind its to the motive for the theft of the Drifter. Then he decided that it must be some professional who had done the act. It was hard to fathom the ultimate plans of such an abstractor, who would not dare to use the machine in any public way and could scarcely sell it. "It's a puzzle, a big, worrying poser," said Dave, walking slowly from the factory grounds. About half a mile city-wards from the plant Dave passed through a square devoted to public park purposes. He sat down on a tree-shaded rustic bench. There, alone, quiet and undisturbed, he set his wits at work. Whoever it was who had committed the theft must have been a professional airman. Dave formulated a plan to ask Mr. Randolph if anybody in Bolton, or any employee of the plant was missing. In case this was not discovered then some stranger must have come to Bolton. There might be a trace found of the party at some of the hotels. "There's a bit of detective work to do by some one besides myself," decided Dave. "I'm going to suggest this plan to Mr. Randolph." "Hello, boss," spoke an approaching voice as Dave got up to return to the plant. He observed a man he had noticed on a bench directly opposite to the one he had occupied sidling towards him. The fellow was ragged and trampish looking. There was a queer leer in his face and his eyes were fixed on the coat Dave wore. "Well, what is it?" inquired Dave. "Excuse a question, matey?" "Oh, that's all right." "Noticed a badge you're wearing," said the tramp. "Oh, that?" spoke Dave lifting his hand to his coat lapel, and wondering at the man been so observant. "Yes—N. A. L.," nodded the tramp. Dave eyed the speaker keenly. At the distance he was, it was doubtful that he could have dearly made out the monogram, yet he named the letters glibly and correctly. "N. A. L." stood for the National Aero League. Dave was not a member and neither was Hiram Dobbs. Mr. King was and during the meets it had become the custom with professionals to furnish their assistants with duplicate badges, which enabled them to enter and leave the aero grounds unchallenged by the gateman, and ticket takers. "You must have pretty good eyes to make out those letters on that badge at a distance," said Dave. "I've seen them before," readily explained the tramp. "Oh, you have?" "Yes, and I've got a badge for sale just like the one you're wearing." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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