CHAPTER X
THE HAUNTED AERODROME
The excitable Leblance was on his feet in an instant. Dave reached theside of Mr. King and glanced quickly at the paper he had opened out.
“Impossible—so poorly equipped! Incredible—so quickly!” almost shoutedthe Frenchman.
“The _Dictator_ has sailed, just the same,” announced the veteranairman, conclusively. “I’ll read it to you.”
Every word of the article in the newspaper was taken in absorbedly bythe persons in the room. According to it, the _Dictator_ had made asplendid ascent from Senca at two o’clock that afternoon. The red, whiteand blue appearance of the great gas bag had evoked the most patrioticenthusiasm, and cheers and flag-waving had accompanied the flight.
The _Dictator_, according to the report, would float southward overlandtill a point near Baltimore was reached. Here a descent would be made tolearn its condition, the machinery carefully scanned, and the oceancourse begun. Then followed an interview given out by Davidson on thesuperiority of his double monoplane apparatus. There was, too, aportrait of Davidson and one of Jerry Dawson. The article wound up witha reference to the _Albatross_, which it stated, would soon be hot onthe heels of the _Dictator_.
“They have got the lead,” observed Mr. Dale, in an anxious tone, the oneof the group most disquieted by the newspaper article.
Professor Leblance shrugged his shoulders. He waved his hand to expressridicule. His long, waxed mustache curled up in disdain.
“It is absurd,” he said. “Do I not know? An egg shell like that—noscience, no reserve force. Bah! I laugh at it.”
All the same the volatile Frenchman beckoned Mr. King to the next room.In low, serious tones they held quite an extended conversation. At itsend Leblance hurried from the house. Mr. King returned to his friendswith a serious face.
“The ball has been set rolling,” he spoke, “there is no doubt of that.No matter what we think or guess about the _Dictator_, it seems certainthat the craft has made a start. Leblance has gone to set his men atnight work. The _Albatross_ must be gotten in trim for its flight withinforty-eight hours.”
“As quickly as that!” exclaimed Dave.
“Leblance assures me he will have the _Albatross_ all ready for itsflight by day after to-morrow,” said the airman. “Make preparations, myfriends. There must be no delay.”
“Hurrah!” whispered Hiram, into the ear of his young friend.
The guests of Mr. King saw that his mind was seriously on his business,and arose to depart.
“Some of our crowd will be here to give the _Albatross_ the rightsend-off,” one of them declared.
The airman saw the visitors to the door. When he returned he snatched uphis hat quickly.
“Come with me, Dashaway; you too, Hiram,” he directed.
“Where are you going?” inquired Mr. Dale.
“To the aerodrome. There is going to be a lot of rush work to do, andperhaps we can help.”
“Count me in,” said the old man, cheerily, “although I haven’t been veryuseful so far outside of gaping at the wonderful work of our giftedfriend, Leblance.”
“Day after to-morrow is the twenty-first,” spoke up Grimshaw. “Two days’start for the _Dictator_ crowd.”
The group left the boarding house. They crossed the street and walkedalong the fence of the aerodrome enclosure. Dave and Hiram were in thelead. They were chatting animatedly as they turned the corner of thebuilding, when Dave was thrust violently to the side and Hiram wasknocked head over heels to the street.
A frenzied yell accompanied the collision with them of a wild, scurryingform, which recoiled at the unexpected impact, a hat bobbing from itshead.
“Hi! what’s all this?” challenged the astonished Mr. King.
“Why, it’s the night watchman!” declared Grimshaw.
“Oh, Mr. King!” panted the man, and then, pale, shaking, and gasping forbreath, he fell against the wall of the building from sheer weakness.
“Here, brace up,” ordered the aviator, seizing the arms of the fellowand shaking him. “What’s the trouble?”
“Ghost!” choked out the watchman, in thrilling accents.
“Where—what do you mean?”
“Aerodrome.”
“A ghost in the aerodrome?” questioned Mr. King, derisively. “Is thatwhat you’re trying to say?”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense! Here, Grimshaw, help me get this fellow back to his post ofduty.”
Between them they forced the man along the walk. He gurgled, quaked, andheld back as they neared the gates of the enclosure. They found theselocked, as also the door to the old factory, when they reached it.
“I locked it in,” quavered the frightened watchman. “Don’t—don’t let itout!”
“You’re a fine guardian of property, you are,” censured the airman,severely. “Here we are,” and as he opened the door, Mr. King snapped onthe electric lights. The watchman sank to a chair and crouched as hedirected a scared glance around the place.
“Where’s your ghost?” derided the aviator quickly.
“I—I don’t see him now,” grunted the watchman.
“I guess you don’t,” scoffed Grimshaw. “You must be a weak one to flyinto a tantrum like this over nothing.”
“Nothing!” fairly bellowed the watchman. “I saw it plain as the nose onmy face. See here, I had the door ajar about a foot to let in a littleof the cool evening air. Here I sat in my chair right near it. I musthave half snoozed and woke up suddenly. Not five feet away, right nearthat oil tank yonder, was a horrible shape. It was all white andunearthly. As I started up it let out an unearthly scream and waved itsarms. Say, it was curdling! I bolted for the door, locked it, andscooted.”
“Yes, you scooted all right,” grumbled Hiram, rubbing a bump on hishead.
Mr. King, with a glance of impatience at the great booby of a watchman,proceeded briskly the length of the building, peering into every oddnook and corner. When he came back he held in his hand a long cottonsheet that had been used to cover some of the machinery.
“That is what you saw,” he declared. “Somebody has been playing a trickon you.”
“Why, how could that be,” chattered the watchman, “seeing nobody was inthe building but me?”
“How do you know that?” demanded the aviator; “when you say you had thedoor open? I tell you some one slipped in, wrapped in the sheet, andhalf scared the life out of you.”
“Then he must be here now,” insisted the watchman, “for when I bolted Ilocked the door after me.”
“It all looks rather queer,” remarked Mr. Dale.
“Hi!” suddenly shouted the watchman.
“What’s the matter now?” asked Mr. King.
“My dinner pail—that I bring my night lunch in.”
“What about it?”
“Gone! It was right here near my chair. It’s been taken.”
Dave had followed the progress of the incident of the hour withcuriosity, ending in positive interest.
“Come on, Hiram,” he said.
“What for?” inquired his comrade.
“To do some investigating. Don’t you see that if the watchman’s story isstraight some one really was here?”
“And if the door was locked when the watchman ran away he couldn’t verywell get out.”
“Exactly.”
The two lads made more than one tour of the length and breadth of theplace. Their quest proved a vain one. There was no one hiding about theaerodrome, as far as they could discover.
“We’ll have to give it up,” said Hiram at last, “although it’s somethingof a mystery.”
It was, indeed, but a mystery soon to be explained in a startling way tothe young aviators.