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Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane

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<h1 id="id01483" style="margin-top: 5em">CHAPTER XXI</h1> <h5 id="id01484">A CHASE IN MID AIR</h5> Dave roused up, wide awake in an instant. He was about to spring to his feet, when Hiram pulled him back with the words: "Don't get up." "Why not?" inquired the somewhat puzzled young aviator. "You'll be seen." "Who by?" "A man who was just here." "Do you mean that, Hiram?" exclaimed Dave in a startled tone. "I certainly do. Look," said Hiram, pointing, and then he added: "No, the trees shut him out now. As I just said, though, we have been discovered." Now Hiram arose to his feet, the danger of being seen appearing to have passed. Dave followed his example. "Some one was here, you say?" began Dave. "Yes." "Who was it?" "A fellow who looked like some of the half breed Indians we saw fishing over near Anseton. I woke up, and he came in range clear as a picture. It was over by that thicket of pine trees. There he stood, staring at our machine, then at us. He seemed to take it in with a good deal of surprise. Finally he threw up his hands as if he was making up his mind to something, and started on a run down the hill." "In that direction?" asked Dave, pointing due east. "Yes, in the direction of Brantford. I tell you, Dave, he's a spy. If he ran across us accidentally then he's gone to tell his friends about discovering the airship." "That doesn't follow," remarked Dave thoughtfully, "but I'm glad you saw him." "Yes, I think we need to keep a pretty close lookout. Say, Dave," questioned Hiram, "if he is some friend of the Dawson crowd, and has gone to tell them about us, what do you suppose they'll do?" "I have no idea," replied the young aviator. "But they won't catch us napping." Dave kept a close watch out in all directions while Hiram hurried up a quick breakfast. They got through with the meal rapidly. Then Dave went over the machine, seeing that the gasoline tanks were full and the gearing and oiling apparatus in good order. Two hours went by, and there were no developments that indicated that the visitor to their camp had been other than a straggler, with no purpose in view in his rapid disappearance. Hiram became more matter-of-fact, and guessed he had "got scared for nothing." All the same he kept a close lookout all of the time, particularly in the direction of Brantford. Dave was planning a visit on foot to that town. He decided, however, that he would wait till afternoon so as to be sure that there was no occasion for worry. Both lads discovered the fallacy of their theories at the same moment. "Look!" suddenly shouted Hiram, pointing. "I see," said Dave calmly, but under the surface greatly stirred up. "It's the Drifter!" "Yes." "What are you going to do?" "Come," spoke Dave simply, and sprang into his seat in the Machine. Hiram hastily collected their few belongings scattered about the spot. He bundled them into the accommodation basket, and was in his place almost as soon as Dave. The eyes of both of the young aviators were fixed on a rapidly approaching object—an airship. Dave did not have to glance at its construction more than once to know definitely that it was the stolen Drifter. Whoever was at the levers, Jerry or his father, thoroughly understood his business, Dave saw that. The aero-hydroplane came rather abruptly into view over a wooded hill top, and was rapidly approaching them. "You see, I was right," said Hiram hastily. "That half breed was a spy, at least to that crowd. He has directed them here." "All ready," ordered Dave, in a set, sturdy tone, and the self starter began to work. "What is it—a chase?" fluttered Hiram. "We'll have to wait and see. You know what kind of fellows the Dawsons are. I'm not going to sit like a bird in a nest and have them swoop down upon us, though." "There are three—you can count them in their airship," said Hiram, shading his eyes and craning his neck. "Four," corrected Dave. "The Drifter has a capacity of five ordinary people, Mr. Randolph told me." The Monarch II made a magnificent slanting rise up into the air. Dave knew the splendid qualities of the machine under his control. They included an ability for a quick light ascent. He had no idea of the purpose of the Drifter crowd, but of course their main object was to capture their rival. The question was, failing in this, how, far would they go in the way of crippling or even destroying the Monarch II. The Drifter was headed on a course directly towards the eminence which the boys had just left behind them. There had come up an eight hour wind about noon, and Dave knew that would be child's play maneuvering to avoid the enemy intent on annoying or injuring them. He drove ahead at a six hundred feet level and waited for the Drifter crowd to indicate what their purpose was. "They are changing their course!" said Hiram quickly, as the Drifter wheeled suddenly. "They are going to try a new ascent," explained Dave. "Why?" "To get to a higher level than ourselves." "Then they mean mischief?" "I am afraid that they do," replied the young aviator. "Maybe they are trying to scare us," suggested Hiram. Dave was now certain that the purpose of the Dawsons was to pursue, capture or intimidate them, or drive them away. They had a superb machine, and as they made a far lateral shoot it brought them considerably higher up than the Monarch II. In fact, after one or two circles, like a huge bird swooping after prey, the Drifter came almost directly over them. Dave's tactics were now purely defensive and evasive. There were five people aboard the aero-hydroplane, and they were desperate persons. He was not surprised when an object same shooting downwards from the Drifter. It struck one of the plane wires and then dropped earthwards. "Something's whipped loose," spoke Hiram quickly. "It's one of the elevator wires," said Dave, darting a quick glance at the spot. "This won't do." Now it was an over-water flight with no measured course to pursue. The Drifter tried to repeat its recent tactics. Dave noticed that the Monarch II had become somewhat faulty in its running. He was anxious to get away from the enemy. His main efforts were directed towards preserving a sure balance, for once or twice there was a wobble, as if the machine was hurt in some vital part. The young aviator made out a buoy a few miles to the west. Beyond it was a little settlement. He set his course for reaching it, and directed his full attention to the levers and the angle indicated. The indicator was directly in front of the pilot seat. It showed positively how the machine was flying, on the top or down bank. It comprised a cup with lines set about ten degrees, and gave a sure safety limit. Only the pendulum was movable. This was mounted on an arm always perpendicular, a small mirror reflecting the variations of the pendulum. Climbing and banking, Dave got quite a lead on the Drifter, but the aero-hydroplane kept up a steady pursuit. "There's something the matter besides the broken wire," spoke Dave to his anxious companion. "The oil intake is dogged or one of the planes loose. We can't take any risks." Dave sent the Monarch II on a downward shoot. There was a single pontoon in the center of the craft, with small tanks beneath the planes to prevent tipping over in the water. Dave aimed to hit the bay near to the shore. Suddenly the aircraft acted queer. It had evidently struck a hole in the air. The machine seemed fairly to drop from under its occupants, and thirty feet from the water, Dave was lifted from his seat and took a sudden plunge over-board. He went under the surface and came up dazed and nearly stunned. As he floated, dashing the water from his eyes, he saw the Drifter, now a flying boat, cut around a point of rocks, bearing straight down upon him. Dave looked quickly about him for the Monarch II. To his surprise, as it scudded across the waves for perhaps a hundred feet on its momentum, it lifted again free of the surface of the bay. He made out Hiram clambering from his seat like a sailor among the riggings of a ship. He saw the machine go up on a sharp slant, clear the shore of the bay, and disappear beyond the high cliffs lining it. Then something struck him. It was some light part of the rotary engined aero-hydroplane, the Drifter, cutting the water like a knife. His head dizzied, and the young aviator went under the surface of the lake with a shock. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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