CHAPTER VI
A MYSTERIOUS FLASH
“Well, what did he want?” challenged Grimshaw, gruffly, as the youngaviator entered the living tent.
“It was young Brackett,” said Dave. “He came to settle the damage up atthe greenhouses.”
“With real money?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You surprise me,” observed the old man, drily.
“Don’t be too hard on him, Mr. Grimshaw,” said Dave. “There is some goodin him.”
“Humph! It’s all under the surface, then. You are too soft-hearted,Dashaway. It’s of a piece with that Jerry Dawson affair. After he andhis crowd had done you all kinds of harm, stolen the _Drifter_ and triedto put you out of business, you let him go scot free.”
“Hoping Jerry had learned his lesson and would behave himself.”
“Which he won’t,” affirmed the old man, strenuously. “I’ll wager he’llpop up in some mean way before you get through with this giant airshipscheme.”
“There’s Hiram,” announced Dave, brightly, as the gate slammed and acheery whistle echoed through the enclosure.
Dave’s loyal young assistant came into the tent flushed and animatedfrom a run in the rain.
“Any mail?” inquired Dave.
“Yes, a letter and a telegram,” replied Hiram, handing two envelopes toDave.
The young aviator opened the telegram first. He looked at its enclosureso long and steadily that his two friends began to regard him with deepcuriosity.
“Well, that’s queer,” said Dave at length.
“What is?” challenged Hiram.
“This message.”
“Who is it from?”
“The Interstate people.”
“What does it say?” asked Hiram.
“I’ll read it: ‘Good advertising—keep it up.’”
“H’m,” observed Grimshaw. “That’s sort of puzzling. Now, what does itmean?”
Dave shook his head vaguely.
“I really don’t know,” he admitted.
Hiram began to grin. Then he laughed outright.
“Do you?” demanded Dave, glancing suspiciously at his friend.
Hiram slapped his knee emphatically, chuckling the while. He beganfeeling in the outside pockets of his coat.
“I didn’t know at first,” he spoke; “but I think I can guess it outnow.”
Hiram drew out a folded newspaper, opened it up, glanced over it, andrefolded it so as to show a half-column article with a display head.
“City evening paper, that just came down with the mail,” he explained.“Look at that, Dave Dashaway, and say you aren’t famous!”
Our hero was a good deal surprised to find in the newspaper a glowingarticle about the unselfish heroism of a rising young aviator, who hadencountered vivid danger in doing a noble service for a poor girl.
Dave saw at once that the enterprising newspaper man at Easton had madea fine story of the sensational episode. The _Gossamer_ was lauded forits handsome conduct in a storm, and the Interstate Aero Company wascommended for building such a staunch aircraft. Dave was given fulljustice, and the interesting little story was told in a very patheticway.
“You understand now, I reckon, Dave?” chuckled Hiram.
“Why, in a way, yes.”
“I suppose the story has been telegraphed all over the country,” saidHiram. “It’s a good one. The Interstate people saw it, and wired you atonce.”
Old Grimshaw read the newspaper article eagerly in his turn. He gloatedover the handsome things said about Dave.
“I’m proud of you, as usual, Dashaway,” he observed.
Dave opened the letter Hiram had brought him. He read it through with aface indicating considerable satisfaction.
“Here’s a pleasant bit of news,” he announced to his two friends.
“From Mr. King, isn’t it?” inquired Hiram. “I noticed the handwritingand the postmark.”
“Yes,” replied Dave.
“Anything interesting about the giant airship?”
“A whole lot,” answered Dave, briskly. “It seems that Mr. Dale has beenfortunate enough to find a French aero man who spent several years inforeign dirigible service. Mr. King writes that he is something of aninventor and a practical man in airship construction.”
“That’s famous, Dashaway,” voted Grimshaw, with enthusiasm.
“They are going to push the big craft towards completion just as fast asthey can,” reported Dave. “Mr. King writes that they need me and that heis financing the project on my account. He wants me to get theInterstate people to release us, and all of us get to Croydon soon as wecan.”
“Then the trip across the Atlantic is a sure thing!” cried the excitedHiram.
“Mr. King thinks so.”
“Hurrah!” shouted the delighted lad.
“I hope they count me in,” spoke Grimshaw, a flicker of the oldprofessional fire and ardor in his eyes. “Since I got knocked out ofservice by my bad fall from a biplane, I’ve been pretty well shelved.I’d like to figure in the biggest aero exploit ever attempted, though.”
“You are going to, if the rest of us do,” said Dave. “Mr. King settledthat in my last talk with him.”
“He did?”
“Yes. He says you understand a dirigible better than he does amonoplane.”
“I’m pretty well posted on balloons, yes,” asserted the veteranaeronaut, with a look of considerable pride.
There was little else talked of by the friends but the giant airship therest of that evening. Dave, later, devoted an hour to writing a longletter to the Interstate people. He told them that Mr. King needed him,and hoped they could find it convenient to release him without delayfrom his contract.
Like the real business boy and faithful employe that he was, however,Dave went through regular routine duty the next day. The agent of thecompany brought down his clients that afternoon, and Dave showed off the_Gossamer_ at her best paces.
The ensuing day and the one next following he made the regular ascentsfor the resort people.
The expected reply to Dave’s letter finally arrived. The Interstatepeople wrote that they were sorry to lose so valued an employe, andadded a pleasant word concerning Grimshaw and Hiram. They hoped that thegiant airship exploit would be a great success, and announced that atany time a good position for Dave was open with them.
A liberal check was enclosed in the letter, and the statement made thata man to take charge of the _Gossamer_ would leave the works for LakeLinden the next day.
Dave looked around for young Brackett whenever he strolled about thelake resort and the village. He did not, however, come across either theyouth or the man Vernon. He made some inquiries, and was troubled tolearn that the pair had gotten into a fight at the town hotel, hadsmashed up some furniture, and had left the place with a pretty badrecord.
Dave gave a day to his successor, teaching him the ropes. Mondayafternoon he had everything packed up ready to take the train forCroydon, where the giant airship was under construction. Hiram, who hadbeen earning very good wages of late, had ordered a new suit of clothesin the village. It would not be done until the next morning.
“You go ahead, Dashaway,” advised Grimshaw. “There’s nothing to keep youhere, and Mr. King seems to need you. Hiram and I will come onto-morrow.”
This arrangement was agreed on. Dave took the train, and reached Croydonabout dusk. He found it to be a busy little manufacturing city near thecoast. From what Mr. King had written him, and through some inquiries,Dave was soon on his way to the so-called aerodrome, where the giantairship was being built.
An old roofless molding shop had been utilized for the construction. Itlooked lonely and deserted as Dave came up to it. The windows wereboarded up, apparently to keep out prying eyes. The big front doors wereclosely padlocked, and a temporary canvas roof was in place.
The street lamps of the city ran out to the factory, and nea
rby weresome houses. Dave felt sure that Mr. King and the others had takenliving quarters in the vicinity. He had no doubt that a little inquirywould result in locating them.
Dave walked around the old plant, thinking a good deal of the proudhopes that attached to the big airship inside. The upper pair of windowsof the place were not boarded up. Dave’s eyes chanced to be scanningthese as he was about to cross the street to where the houses were.
“Hello!” he cried out sharply, in a startled way.
A sudden flash, bright and dazzling, shot across the whole row ofwindows from the interior of the building. It resembled the illuminationmade by a sudden powder blast, but there was no report.
“Why, what can that be?” exclaimed the bewildered young aviator.
Dave bent his ear and listened. No sound broke the stillness. He couldnot figure out the circumstances for the moment. He was puzzled, and yetreluctant to leave the spot without learning what the mysterious flashportended.
“Someone!” spoke Dave, suddenly.
Then he broke into a run. Mystery had become suspicion. Against thelight of a corner lamp, he saw, away down the length of the building,the outlines of a ladder. Its top rested on the sill of one of the upperwindows.
The window was open. Through the aperture a form had quickly scrambled.Dave felt sure that some underhand work was in progress.
“Hey, there; who are you? What are you up to?” he shouted.
As he challenged, Dave ran towards the ladder. The person descending ithurried his progress, leaped from it, cast a hurried look at theapproaching youth, and darted across the street.
Our hero noticed that he held in one hand a small black case about teninches square.
As the fugitive turned the street corner he looked again to see howclosely he was being pursued. The lamp light fell full upon his face.
“The mischief!” fairly shouted the amazed young aviator. “It’s JerryDawson!”