CHAPTER VIII
THE SECRET FOE
The young pilot of the _Ariel_ was sufficiently interested to followhis assistant down into the yard. The farmer followed. Three pairs ofeyes scanned the sky with no result.
“I say, it’s queer,” persisted Hiram, trying to get a new focus of viewby running about out of range of surrounding trees and buildings.
“Mebbe they alighted behind the barn,” suggested the farmer.
“Then they pretty nearly came straight down,” declared Hiram.
“There’s a holler over beyond the orchard,” explained the farmer.
“I’m going to find out where they landed,” persisted Hiram, runningaway from the others.
He rounded the barn, a corn crib and then the windmill shed. He heard:“Chug—chug!” Keen as a ferret, the guiding sound spurred him on.Suddenly Hiram halted.
“There it is,” he said to himself. “They dropped, but they could nothave touched the ground. Sure, it’s the Curtiss. Why—the vandals!”
In a flash the quick senses of Dashaway’s apprentice took the alarm.The antics of the Curtiss had been curious. Now something caught theattention of Hiram and awakened positive suspicion; alarm, too, for thestrange machine arose from amid the haystacks where the _Ariel_ hadanchored.
“It means something,” muttered Hiram, resuming his run. “Fire!”
For an instant he was appalled. A smell of smoke was wafted to hisnostrils. Then, getting in range of the haystacks, he caught a gleam ofleaping flames. Rounding the first great heap of fodder, Hiram utteredan angry cry. The Curtiss was sailing away, and it was fully evidentthat its occupants had descended purposely to set a match to theenormous heaps of hay within ready reach.
“They were after our machine!” shouted the lad, and he snatched up thegun the farmer had left behind him. It was double-barreled. Hiram firedtwice. He fancied he could hear the shots rattle against the planes ofthe fast-swaying biplane aloft. Its speed was not diminished, however.He threw down the gun and made a dive through a fire-fringed spacebetween the two nearest haystacks.
The one further along, near which the _Ariel_ stood, was now a mass ofwispy, shooting blaze. Two others beyond it had also ignited. It wasnow that the lad ran fastest. His face was hot and blistered as he cameup against the tail rudder of the imperiled machine with a force thatgave him a rebound.
The smoke and the heat choked and blinded him. He bent his head andgave the running gear a start. He could not see before him now. Withdesperate resolve Hiram buckled down to his task. The aeroplane, uponwhich his hopes and interest were fixed so intensely, was in peril. Heknew it was scorched, from the faint smell of melting varnish.
All he thought of was getting the _Ariel_ outside the spreading circleof fire. He could choose no lanes between the numerous stacks, for thesmoke now obscured everything. He had to trust to luck. Now he wasrunning the machine along.
“The mischief!” uttered Hiram abruptly, and went spinning back half adozen feet. He had driven the biplane squarely into an unseen stack.The rebound shook him loose. He stumbled and fell. Then his head metsome hard solid substance and he closed his eyes with a groan—senseless.
It was the echo of the two shots that first aroused Dave Dashaway, whohad stood looking after Hiram until he disappeared, and then awaitedhis return. The farmer had gone back to the porch, but now he ran downinto the yard again with the words:
“Hello! that was my gun—I’d know its sound anywhere, I think.”
“Then something is wrong,” instantly decided Dave, quite stirred up. “Isee nothing of the airship—”
“No,” shouted the farmer, “but there’s a fire!”
The moment he got beyond the barn, Dave also saw the smoke and flames.
“My haystacks!” cried the farmer.
“The _Ariel_!” murmured Dave. “And there is the biplane Hiram saw. Mr.Rudd, there’s something wrong going on!” but the farmer was speedingtowards the central scene of action. Dave broke into a run. Heout-distanced his companion.
The stranger airship was now high up in the air, and heading due west.Dave could not make out those on board. He fancied there were two inthe machine.
“Hiram! Hiram!” he shouted, and strained his gaze to try and locate the_Ariel_. A sudden flurry of wind lifted the smoke. Dave fancied he sawhis machine. It was in the midst of the stacks and seemed doomed. Downa fire-fringed pathway he darted, however. Then, more by the sense offeeling than seeing, he came up against his sky-craft.
It was heroic work, for the heat was blistering, the smoke and cindersblinding. Dave discerned that the _Ariel_ was wedged into the edge of astack. He drew it back, whirled it about heading a new way, and bore italong with a strong push.
He gave a great breath of relief as it wheeled free of the last stack.He fairly reeled the last few yards of progress. Free of the fire, heheld to the tail of the machine for support. Dave was exhausted, almostovercome with the ordeal he had gone through. His leather suit,however, had saved him from being badly burned. As it was, his hair wassinged and his face and hands red and blistered.
“Where is Hiram?” he breathed anxiously. Then Dave called his chum’sname, steadied himself, and rubbed clear his cinder-filled eyes.
“Had a fall—stumbled right over your partner,” panted the farmer, andhe emerged from the blazing space with unsteady feet.
“Why, what’s this?” cried Dave.
The farmer was half-carrying, half-dragging a human form. He flopped tothe ground himself overcome, as he dropped his burden.
“Hiram!” exclaimed the young aviator, recognizing his senselessassistant.
“Lucky I found him,” panted the farmer. “He lay on the ground the wayhe is now. My feet hit him, and I took a header. If I hadn’t comeacross him, it would have been all day for him.”
Dave was now kneeling at the side of his unconscious chum. He liftedHiram’s head. A damp spot met his hand. Then he discovered a long scalpwound, bleeding profusely. The farmer stood dumbly viewing thedestruction going on. He was of a philosophical turn, it seemed, forfinally shrugging his shoulders resignedly he observed:
“Lucky most of it is poor swamp hay. It’s got to go, I see that. Let itburn out, we can’t save any of it, and I reckon it won’t reach thesheds. Hurt bad?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Dave, but anxiously. “There’s a cut in theback of his head.”
“Mebbe he fell against one of the big stone weights used for holdingdown the hay. See here, he’s the first to think of. We must get him tothe house.”
Dave was anxious to do this. They ran the _Ariel_ safely out of rangeof danger. Then they lifted Hiram and carried him in the direction ofthe house. By this time some field workers, near by and on neighboringfarms, came running to the spot. They got rakes and bags and beat outthe dry stubble surrounding the stacks, which had become ignited.
They put Hiram on a bench near the well, and the farmer filled a pail,and wetting his big handkerchief applied it to the head of theinsensible lad. Its effect was noticed at once.
“Hello!” cried Hiram, sitting up and opening his eyes. “Where did thoserascals get to, Dave? Oh, I remember now!” Then his glance swept theblazing mass two hundred yards away. “Oh, Dave!” he exclaimed, thetears coming to his eyes. “I did what I could, but the _Ariel_ is goneup!”
“No, ’tain’t—your partner saved it!” spoke the farmer quickly.
At that glad news Hiram struggled to his feet. He was wild-eyed andstill unsteady, but his old grit was fast returning.
“Dave,” he cried, “don’t let them get away—the fellows in that bigCurtiss, I mean. They set that fire!”
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