.dt Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship, by Roy Rockwood - A Project Gutenberg eBook
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.h1 nobreak title="Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship"
<xl>Dave Dashaway</xl> | <xl>and His Giant Airship</xl>
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Or
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A Marvellous Trip Across the Atlantic
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<s>BY</s>
ROY ROCKWOOD
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AUTHOR OF “DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR,” “THE
SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES,” “THE GREAT
MARVEL SERIES,” ETC.
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ILLUSTRATED
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<s>NEW YORK</s>
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
<s>PUBLISHERS</s>
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<l>BOOKS FOR BOYS</l>
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BY ROY ROCKWOOD
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<l>THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES</l>
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
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DAVE DASHAWAY THE YOUNG AVIATOR
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS HYDROPLANE
DAVE DASHAWAY AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP
DAVE DASHAWAY AROUND THE WORLD
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<l>THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES</l>
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
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THE SPEEDWELL BOYS ON MOTORCYCLES
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR RACING AUTO
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS AND THEIR POWER LAUNCH
THE SPEEDWELL BOYS IN A SUBMARINE
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<l>THE GREAT MARVEL SERIES</l>
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
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THROUGH THE AIR TO THE NORTH POLE
UNDER THE OCEAN TO THE SOUTH POLE
FIVE THOUSAND MILES UNDERGROUND
THROUGH SPACE TO MARS
LOST ON THE MOON
IN A TORN-AWAY WORLD
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<sc>Cupples & Leon Co. Publishers, New York</sc>
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Copyrighted 1913, by
<sc>Cupples & Leon Company</sc>
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<sc>Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship</sc>
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Printed in U. S. A.
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CONTENTS
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CHAPTER | | PAGE
I. | #<sc>The Giant Airship</sc>:chapI# | 1
II. | #“<sc>For Mother’s Sake</sc>”:chapII# | 11
III. | #<sc>A Narrow Escape</sc>:chapIII# | 21
IV. | #<sc>In Bad Company</sc>:chapIV# | 36
V. | #“<sc>The Right Kind</sc>”:chapV# | 44
VI. | #<sc>A Mysterious Flash</sc>:chapVI# | 53
VII. | #<sc>At the Aerodrome</sc>:chapVII# | 62
VIII. | #<sc>The Rival Airship</sc>:chapVIII# | 69
IX. | #<sc>In the Lead</sc>:chapIX# | 76
X. | #<sc>The Haunted Aerodrome</sc>:chapX# | 84
XI. | #<sc>A Grand Success</sc>:chapXI# | 91
XII. | #<sc>Adrift in the Storm</sc>:chapXII# | 103
XIII. | #<sc>A First Landing</sc>:chapXIII# | 110
XIV. | #<sc>Lost</sc>:chapXIV# | 123
XV. | #“<sc>The Terrible Macguffins</sc>”:chapXV# | 129
XVI. | #<sc>In Friendly Hands</sc>:chapXVI# | 137
XVII. | #<sc>A Trusty Guide</sc>:chapXVII# | 144
XVIII. | #<sc>In a Bad Fix</sc>:chapXVIII# | 149
XIX. | #<sc>A Mysterious Friend</sc>:chapXIX# | 154
XX. | #<sc>The Stowaway</sc>:chapXX# | 160
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XXI. | #<sc>The Haunted Airship</sc>:chapXXI# | 166
XXII. | #<sc>Fire at Sea</sc>:chapXXII# | 176
XXIII. | #<sc>The Forlorn Hope</sc>:chapXXIII# | 187
XXIV. | #<sc>Goal!</sc>:chapXXIV# | 192
XXV. | #<sc>Conclusion</sc>:chapXXV# | 199
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<l>DAVE DASHAWAY
AND HIS GIANT AIRSHIP</l>
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.pm chapnopb I "THE GIANT AIRSHIP"
“Is that your airship?”

“Not exactly, but I am in charge of it.”

“The <i>Gossamer</i>, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Belongs to the Interstate Aero Company?”

“You’re pretty well posted, I see.”

“Ought to be. I’m close to the Interstate
people, so I’d like to look the machine over. In
fact, if you’ve got an expert aviator on hand, I
think I’ll take a little flight.”

John Grimshaw, ex-balloonist and battered-up
aeronaut, regarded the foppishly dressed young
man before him quizzically.

“Oh, you do, eh?” he observed, very dryly.
“Well, it won’t be on this occasion. As to an expert
aviator, we’ve got Dave Dashaway.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of him.”

“Most everybody has, I reckon. He’s here
on business though, and that sign is for outsiders,
yourself included.”
.bn 006.png
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Old Grimshaw pointed to a sign on the big gates
of the high board enclosure outside of which he
stood on guard. It read: “No Admittance.”
The visitor had come strolling from the direction
of some summer cottages near a pretty lake close
by. Grimshaw surmised that he was one of the
smart set spending an outing there.

“Humph!” observed the young man, with a
shrug of his shoulders and a scowl. “Pretty independent,
aren’t you? I think you’ll change
your tune shortly.”

“Is that so?”

“I fancy. I’ll bring somebody with me who
will do what he chooses with your precious old
airship, and send you about your business, if he
feels like it.”

The young man turned on his heel, mad as a
hornet, as he spoke. Just then the gate was
pushed open, and a bright-faced, athletic young
fellow stepped into view.

“What’s the trouble, Mr. Grimshaw?” he
asked, pleasantly.

“Another of those pestiferous nuisances, who
want to pry into other people’s business, and think
they own the world,” grumbled the veteran aeronaut.

“What did he want?”

John Grimshaw told his story.

“Oh, you might have gratified his curiosity and
let him look around a little.”
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“See here, Dave Dashaway,” bristled up
Grimshaw, “you’ve seen in the past what taking
in a stranger led to. You’re here for a special
purpose, and no Jerry Dawson, or fellows of that
stripe, are going to get a chance to trick us again.”

“That’s so, Mr. Grimshaw, we can’t be too
careful, I will admit,” agreed the young aviator.

He was a rather unassuming young fellow for
a person of his merits and record, was this active
lad who inside of three months had made his way
from humble circumstances to the very front rank
of American airmen.

Dave Dashaway looked back over the past
twelve weeks of his young career with pride,
pleasure and satisfaction. There were dark
spots, of course. The Jerry Dawson old Grimshaw
had mentioned was one of them. Envious
rivals there had been, too. Danger, scheming,
cunning had more than once threatened.

That bright, breezy afternoon, however, the
accredited pilot of the latest monoplane on exhibition,
Dave Dashaway felt like a general who
had won a hard-fought battle and was resting on
his laurels.

Those who have read the first volume of the
present series, entitled, “Dave Dashaway, the
Young Aviator; Or, In the Clouds for Fame and
Fortune,” will recall how humble and difficult
was the start in life made by the bright young
.bn 008.png
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aeronaut. The father of Dave had been a noted
balloonist. Dave was of tender age when he died.
For years the boy was made a drudge by a miserly
old guardian. The finding of a prize medal and
other valuables accidentally lost from an airship,
sent Dave on his travels seeking their owner,
Robert King, a noted airman, who gave Dave a
job.

It seemed as though air sailing was born in
Dave. He took to aviation like a duck does to
water. The youth did several helpful things at
the various aero meets for Mr. King that won
his confidence and friendship. Dave studied all
the books he could get hold of on airships, and
Grimshaw, a crippled and retired balloonist, took
him into his school.

From the initial run made on a dummy aeroplane
along the ground, to his first aerial flight
in a monoplane with Mr. King, Dave showed
intelligence, skill and ambition. Then came his
first brilliant flight in the <i>Baby Racer</i>, a show
biplane. So well did the young aviator manage
the <i>Racer</i>, that its owner, the Interstate Aero
Company, made a contract with him for regular
exhibitions.

Dave did not disappoint his liberal employers
in his efforts. He won several prizes, gave a big
lift to a chum, Hiram Dobbs, in the aero field,
and made old Grimshaw proud of so apt a pupil.
.bn 009.png
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In the second volume of the present series,
called, “Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane;
Or, Daring Adventures Over the Great Lakes,”
is told how Dave advanced another important
step up the ladder of fame and fortune. The
company employing him started him at exhibiting
their model hydroplane. This was a new venture
for Dave, but he industriously mastered its details
and made a great hit at an aero meet near
Chicago.

All along the line Dave had been forced to oppose
the envy and malice of unprincipled business
rivals. By thinking straight and acting straight,
however, he had won out on every occasion, as an
honest, deserving lad always does. He and his
young protege, Hiram Dobbs, by making a
hundred mile record flight one dark and stormy
night, got a big order for the Interstate Aero
Company ahead of a competitor. Then Jerry
Dawson, his father and a smuggler stole the
hydro-monoplane, <i>Drifter</i>, and located across the
Canadian border. Dave and his friends began
a wonderful chase in another machine. They had
some stirring adventures, ending in the discovery
of the <i>Drifter</i>.

That incident shut out the Dawsons from later
aero meets, but, as they had not been prosecuted,
they became hangers-on at circus and county fair
exhibitions. Dave heard of them once in awhile,
but they seemed unlikely to injure him any farther.
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Dave and Hiram were finely rewarded by the
Interstate people for their success. The company
wanted Dave to make a two-year contract to
exhibit their machines. Dave, however, was
obliged to decline the offer.

There was a strong reason for this—a reason
that was enough to set on fire the enthusiasm of
any live, up-to-date boy.

As related in the preceding volume, Dave had
discovered an old friend of his dead father, one
Cyrus Dale. This gentleman was wealthy, had
no family, and had been a fellow balloonist of
Mr. Dashaway, years before. A boy who had
stolen some papers from Dave had succeeded in
palming himself off on Mr. Dale as Dave Dashaway.

Mr. King had unmasked the imposter. The
latter, with some friends, had then kidnapped Mr.
Dale. The veteran aviator, Robert King, had
rescued Mr. Dale from their clutches. The gratitude
of the latter for this act, together with his
warm interest in Dave, had led to the three coming
together in a most friendly way. It was this
ideal situation which had resulted in the carrying
out of a long-cherished plan of Mr. King.
.bn 011.png
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This was nothing less than a scheme for crossing
the Atlantic in a giant airship. It had been
the pet idea of the skilled aviator for years—the
hope and dream of every ambitious airman in the
world.

Of all men in the field, Mr. King had the ability
to direct such a project. Mr. Dale was not only
willing but ready to supply the capital. As to
Dave and Hiram, they talked constantly of the
enterprise daytimes and dreamed of it nights.

The plan of the veteran aviator, however, was
one that involved time, skill and expense. His
plans for building the great airship were very
elaborate. A month had now gone by, and only
the skeleton of the mammoth air traveler had so
far been constructed.

A temporary aerodrome had been constructed
on the edge of a large city about twenty-five miles
from Lake Linden, where we find the young
aviator at the opening of the present story.
There Mr. King, Mr. Dale and some skilled
workmen were energetically pushing forward
their work. If their plans did not go awry, before
the end of August the giant airship would
start out on the strangest, grandest trip ever attempted
in the field of aeronautics.

In the meantime the Interstate Aero Company
had prevailed on Dave to give them a month’s
special service. This comprised the exhibition
of their latest hydro-monoplane, the <i>Gossamer</i>, at
Lake Linden. The district was one visited every
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summer by men of wealth from New York,
Boston and other large cities. The Interstate
people had secured what had once been a small
private park. Here Dave, Hiram and Mr.
Grimshaw had been located for over a week.

The object of their exhibitions was to influence
a sale of the Interstate machines among the rich
men visiting Lake Linden. Many of them were
aero enthusiasts. Besides that, the proprietors
of the resort paid the company quite a large fee
for making occasional flights as an attraction to
popularize the lake.

Dave glanced after the man who had just had
the verbal tussle with Mr. Grimshaw. He did not
like his trivial looks any more than the old balloonist
had. They had many curious visitors at
the enclosure, however, and Dave forgot the
strange brag of the latest one, as he looked down
the road in the direction of the town of Linden.

“It’s strange Hiram doesn’t get back with the
carryall,” remarked the young aviator.

“Yes, I heard the train come in half an hour
ago,” replied Grimshaw. “Expecting quite a
crowd, aren’t you, Dashaway?”

“Why, yes, according to the message the Interstate
people sent me,” said Dave. “It seems
there is a special party of foreign airmen our
New York salesman has interested. Some of
them have come over to take a try at the meets
in the Southern circuit, and want to buy machines.”
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“They’ll find ours the best,” asserted Grimshaw.

“I think that, too,” agreed Dave. “That’s
why I’ve got everything spick and span inside
there. The <i>Gossamer</i> looks as if she was just
waiting to float like an eagle at the word.”

“She’s a beauty, and no mistake,” declared
Grimshaw, and like some ardent horseman gazing
at a fond pet, he pushed open the gate, and
fixed his eyes on the hydro-aeroplane in the middle
of the enclosure. “She’s the last word in airships,”
boasted the old enthusiast. “That trial
flight of yours yesterday, Dashaway, was the prettiest
piece of air work I ever saw.”

Intimate as the young aviator was with the
<i>Gossamer</i> and every detail of her delicate mechanism,
he could not resist the fascination of looking
over the most beautiful model in the airship field.

The <i>Gossamer</i> had proven a revelation, even
to skilled airmen. It had been constructed in
strict secrecy. The public had known nothing as
to the details of the craft until it was taken out
on Lake Linden to test its balance and speed.

It was equipped to carry four passengers, was
driven by a forty horse-power motor, and made
the tremendous speed of fifty miles an hour in the
water and sixty miles an hour in the air. With
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its two propellers driven by clutch and chain
transmission, and its new automatic starter and
fuel gauge, it was a marvel of beauty and utility,
as readily sent up from the confined deck of a
warship as from the broadest aero field.

“She’s a bird, sure enough,” declared old Grimshaw,
admiringly.

“Wasn’t she sort of built for a bird?” challenged
Dave, with a smile.

“That’s so. Ah, I hear the wagon. Hiram
is coming.”

The two went outside the enclosure, and the
man looked keenly down the road in the direction
of the village.

“Why Dashaway,” he exclaimed, “it’s Hiram,
but he isn’t bringing the party you expected.”

“That’s queer,” commented the young aviator.

“He’s all alone—oh, no, he isn’t. He’s got
one passenger aboard—a girl.”

“A girl?” repeated Dave, staring somewhat
mystified at the approaching vehicle.

“Yes.”

“That’s queerer still,” remarked the young
aviator.
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//.pm chap II "“FOR MOTHER’S SAKE”"
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CHAPTER II||“FOR MOTHER’S SAKE”
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“Whoa!” sang out Hiram Dobbs, bringing
the team to a halt and beckoning to Dave.

“Why, what’s the trouble, Hiram?” inquired
the young aviator.

“Crowd didn’t come, that’s all.”

“And no word from them?”

“Why, yes, there was a wire,” and Dave’s
friend and assistant handed a yellow sheet to
Dave with the explanation: “Operator at the
station gave it to me that way. A rush, so I read
it.”

“That’s all right,” returned Dave, and he also
read the brief dispatch in his turn.

It stated that there had come an unexpected
hitch in the arrangements of the New York agent
of the Interstate people, and that the party he
had in tow would not visit Lake Linden until the
following day.

“That’s good,” said Dave. “It will give us
a chance to go to the city and see how our giant
airship scheme is coming on.”
.bn 016.png
.pn +1

“Fine!” applauded Hiram. “There’s something
I wanted to talk to you about first, though,
Dave.”

“What’s that, Hiram?”

“Wait a moment, Miss.”

Hiram interrupted with these words, addressed
to the only passenger in the carryall. For the
first time Dave glanced at her closely. She was
a plainly-dressed, modest-looking girl of about
sixteen. Her eyes were red with weeping. She
held a handkerchief in her hand, and was pale
and seemed greatly distressed.

“Oh, I must make you no farther trouble,” she
said, in a broken tone. “I will get out of the
carryall here and walk the rest of the way to the
seminary.”

“I want to speak to my friend here first, Miss,”
said Hiram. “You just wait. Maybe he can
suggest some way to help you out.”

“You have been so kind to me already,” murmured
the girl.

Dave wondered what was up. The carryall
was a hired one, and he had supposed at first
that Hiram had given the girl a lift, finding she
was going his way. Hiram was always doing such
kindly things.

The forlorn appearance of the girl, however,
and the rather serious manner of Hiram as he
jumped from the wagon seat and beckoned Dave
.bn 017.png
.pn +1
out of earshot of his passenger, made the young
aviator surmise that he had something of particular
moment to impart to him.

“Now then, what is it, Hiram?” he asked.

“You see that girl?”

“Of course.”

“I never felt so sorry for anyone in my life
as I do for her.”

“Who is she?”

“A poor girl working her way through the
young ladies’ seminary up at the other end of the
lake.”

“Oh, I see.”

“It seems she got a telegram about an hour
ago. It is from her home, a hundred miles west
of here. It stated that her mother was in a critical
condition, and if she expected to see her alive she
must take the first train for Easton. She hurried
to the depot. I found her there crying as if her
heart would break.”

“Poor girl! she had missed the train.”

“By just four minutes, and no other until eight
o’clock this evening.”

“I am dreadfully sorry for her,” said Dave,
glancing with genuine sympathy at the girl in the
carryall.

Hiram fidgeted about. He dug the toe of his
shoe into the dirt. Then he looked Dave daringly
in the eye. Then he dropped his glance. Dave
was quick to read his impetuous and open-hearted
comrade’s thoughts.
.bn 018.png
.pn +1

“I fancy I guess what’s in your mind, Hiram,”
he said.

“I hope you do, anyhow. Say, if I knew how
to run an airship like you——”

“You’d run it to Easton, I suppose?” intimated
Dave.

“Yes, sir, that’s just what I would do. See
here, Dave, suppose you had a sister in the trouble
that young girl is in?”

Dave put up his hand interruptingly. His face
was earnest and serious.

“I’d get her to her mother if I had to sell the
shoes off my feet. You’re a grand-hearted fellow,
Hiram Dobbs, and, as I’ll not let you beat
me in the doing-good line, why——”

“You’ll take her to her mother in the <i>Gossamer</i>?”
fairly shouted Hiram, dancing from one
foot to the other in his excitement over such a
prospect.

“I’ll try and make it out that way,” responded
Dave. “Let me think for a minute or two,
Hiram.”

The young aviator took another look at the
mournful face of the young girl in the carryall.
Then he made up his mind. He was a fully-trusted
employe of the Interstate Aero Company,
and pretty nearly at liberty to do as he
pleased. Dave looked up at the sky, made some
mental calculations, and said finally:
.bn 019.png
.pn +1

“Tell her who I am, Hiram—I want to have
a little talk with her.”

“This is my best friend, Dave Dashaway,
Miss——”

“My name is Amy Winston,” spoke the girl,
a trifle shy and embarrassed.

“Hiram Dobbs has told me about your trouble,
Miss Winston,” said Dave. “He is a fine fellow
and feels sorry for you, and so do I. We
are going to try and get you to your home within
the next three hours.”

“Oh, if you only could!” exclaimed the young
girl, anxiously. “But there is no train until this
evening.”

“That is true,” replied Dave.

“You see, Dave is a great aviator, Miss,”
broke in Hiram, in his usual impulsive, explosive
way. “He’s taken lots of prizes. He won
the——”

“That will do, Hiram,” laughed Dave. “The
truth is, Miss Winston,” he continued to the
puzzled girl, “we have only one way of getting
you to your home. Please step down and I will
show you what it is.”

Dave helped the girl down the steps at the
rear of the vehicle. He led her to the gates of
the enclosure and drew one of them wide open.
.bn 020.png
.pn +1

“Why, it is an airship!” exclaimed Amy Winston.
“I saw it yesterday from the seminary
grounds.”

“Dave was running it, and I was aboard,”
boasted Hiram, proudly.

“How beautifully it sailed,” murmured the girl.

“Miss Winston,” spoke Dave, “I can make
Easton in about three hours in that machine. It
may be something I should not propose, considering
the possible risk, but the <i>Gossamer</i> is at your
service.”

“Oh,” exclaimed Amy, her eyes filling with
tears of gratitude and hope, “I would dare any
danger to once more see my dear mother before
she dies.”

“You are willing to try it?” asked Dave,
definitely.

Amy was trembling, but she answered bravely
in the affirmative.

“Tell Mr. Grimshaw,” said Dave to his friend,
who at once started off to obey the order. “Now,
Miss Winston,” continued the young aviator, “I
will help you to a seat in the machine.”

When the girl had been disposed of in the most
comfortable seat in the <i>Gossamer</i>, Dave gave her
a strap to draw her dress skirt tightly about her
feet. Other straps bound her in the seat so that
by no possibility could she fall or be thrown out.
.bn 021.png
.pn +1

The girl had grown a shade paler and was all
in a flutter, but she did not show the least inclination
to draw back from an exploit that would
start most people into hysterics.

Dave went into the tent where he and Hiram
and Grimshaw ate and slept, and came out in
aviation garb. He took some time looking over a
guide book. Meanwhile his two helpers had been
working about the <i>Gossamer</i>, getting everything
in order.

Grimshaw made no comment on the occasion.
While he always resented any intrusion of outsiders
at aerodrome or meet, he had long since
made up his mind that Dave knew his business
and was just about right in everything he did.
The old expert went over the <i>Gossamer</i> as
thoroughly as if the machine was bound on a long
distance non-stop flight. He saw to it that
nothing was lacking that an air navigator might
need. He even set the green lantern on the right
side and the red to the left, steamship code, in
case of some delay or accident, whereby the
<i>Gossamer</i> might drift up against night work.

“Look out for a change in the wind,” was
Grimshaw’s parting injunction.

“It looks like a coming squall in the northwest,”
replied Dave; “but I think this head wind
will hold till we get out of range. All ready, Miss
Winston?”

.bn 022.png
.pn +1
“Yes, sir,” fluttered the little lady, holding
tightly to the arms of her seat behind the operator’s
post, although she was securely tied in.

“All free,” said Dave simply, and his helpers
stood aside as the self-starter was set in motion.

The <i>Gossamer</i> rose lightly as a bird. Just
above the fence line, however, Dave slightly
turned his head at an unusual sound. He had
just a glimpse of two figures acting rather wildly
immediately beyond the enclosure.

One was the foppish fellow who had recently
been repulsed by Grimshaw, and who had made
the strange threat that he would bring somebody
with him who would settle affairs.

Apparently this vaunted individual was now in
his company. He was a richly dressed lad, somewhat
older than Dave. He seemed to be a good
deal excited about something; acted, as Grimshaw
had described it, as if he owned the world.

His companion was waving his cane angrily as
the airship shot skyward. The boy himself shook
his fists toward the <i>Gossamer</i>, and shouted out
furiously some command or threat the young
aviator could not make out.

Dave wondered what this second visit meant.
He had no time nor thought to spare, either staring
or guessing, however. Eye, hand and brain
were centered intently upon his task. Dave for
the moment forgot everything, except that he was
directing to a safe, steady course a mechanism as
delicate and sensitive as the works of a fine
chronometer.
.bn 023.png
.pn +1

He caught the echo of a low, quick respiration
from the girl behind him. The suddenness of the
ascent had acted on her as it did on every novice,
producing a startled feeling. Then, as the <i>Gossamer</i>
whirled three hundred feet high, and the
swaying, gliding exhilaration of perfect motion
followed, a long-drawn breath told of relief and
satisfaction.

“Don’t be frightened, Miss Winston,” called
out Dave, venturing a quick glance at his passenger,
whose wide-open eyes surveyed the
panorama beneath them in speechless wonderment.

“Oh, I am not, indeed,” cried Amy Winston.
“It is only the strangeness.”

“You are perfectly safe,” assured the young
aviator. “We have made a splendid start. Just
think of home—and your mother,” he added very
gently. “I feel certain that we can make Easton
inside of two hours.”

“I am so glad; oh, so glad,” replied Amy, with
grateful tears in her eyes.

Dave was pleased that his course towards
Easton took him due southwest. A six-mile
breeze was coming from that direction. This was
a perfect condition for even, stable progress.
Over towards the northwest a bank of ominous
.bn 024.png
.pn +1
black clouds were coming up, threatening a gale
and a deluge of rain. The young pilot of the
<i>Gossamer</i> planned and hoped to dodge this storm
by fast flying.

The southern edge of the big cloud began to
cover the sky ahead of Dave. Once or twice
there were contrary gusts, and he had to do some
skillful engineering to preserve a safe balance.
He felt considerably relieved to observe that the
<i>Gossamer</i> was safely out of range of the real
storm center. Some ragged-edge masses thrown
out from the main body were, however, scudding
ahead of him. There were one or two spatters
of rain.

To the far right of him Dave could tell that a
momentary tornado was sweeping the tops of the
trees. He set the lever to the limit notch, made
a long volplane and then a wide circuit to the
south.

“I believe we are out of range,” Dave told
himself, hopefully.

Then, as a sudden and unexpected shock announced
the meeting of two powerful forces, he
sat motionless and helpless.

The young aviator faced a mishap most dreaded
of all that threaten the safety of the expert aeronaut.
.bn 025.png
.pn +1
.pm chap III "A NARROW ESCAPE"
The <i>Gossamer</i> had struck “a hole in the air!”
“We are lost!” thought Dave Dashaway.

The young aviator was not prone to arrive at
senseless conclusions. He had made a practical
study of aeronautics, in a way; from the first
time the pioneer airman harnessed a gasoline engine
to a kite and called it a flying machine, down
to the loop-the-loop somersault trick in aviation.

A “hole in the air” to the sky traveler is what
a yawning chasm is to a speeding automobile or
an unexpected cataract to a hydroplane. It is
worse than a “killed” motor or even a threatened
“turn turtle.” Every part of the machine suddenly
goes useless. The heavy mechanism simply
drops. In a word, the <i>Gossamer</i> had been caught
in a dead void caused by two opposing air currents
colliding, and shutting the machine into an
absolute pocket, or vacuum.

If Dave had remained inert, or had hesitated
for a single instant of time, the <i>Gossamer</i> would
have been doomed. A slender thread of hope
.bn 026.png
.pn +1
presented itself and he was quick to utilize it to
the limit. “Feeling” the air with one cheek, he
noticed the tail of the machine give a quick switch.
This he at once understood indicated that the
master air current was from the north. Dave
hoped there was power enough left in the propellers
to make a sharp, quick turn. He set the
apparatus for the speediest whirl he had ever attempted.

The machine was tipping, dropping steadily.
Dave banked to the left at a most critical angle.
There was a dizzying spin and then a dive. A
great breath of relief swept from Dave’s lips as
the <i>Gossamer</i> righted. The wings caught the
violent blast of the gust, and the machine fairly
bored its way ahead, true as an arrow, into the
teeth of the storm.

A drenching shower shut the aerial wayfarers
into a blinding deluge of rain drops. Then their
course lightened, and Dave knew that the thinning
veil of moisture indicated sunlight beyond it.
He shut down speed slightly. The air pressure
was fast decreasing as the <i>Gossamer</i> emerged from
the clouds. Dave gradually worked the head of
the machine due southwest once more. The
former head wind was regained, and sunny progress
offered beyond.

“A close shave,” said Dave, to himself, and
turned to see how his passenger had taken it.
.bn 027.png
.pn +1

“I suppose that scared you somewhat, Miss
Winston?” he remarked.

Amy’s face was pale, and she showed the strain
of her startling experience, but she replied:

“I could not be frightened with you. Anybody
as kind and thoughtful as you are to a poor girl
in distress like myself, could not be anything but
brave.”

Dave’s heart warmed at the compliment. He
admired the girl, too. As he thought back, he
realized that his nerves had been at a tension
where any outcry or movement on the part of his
passenger might have upset his self-control, and
have prevented the prompt action which had saved
the day.

He felt proud and pleased at his success in turning
a hard corner. His passenger, too, became
more light-hearted as the prospect of soon reaching
the side of her invalid mother became more
assured. Once or twice as they flew over
chicken coops in farm yards there was great excitement
beneath them, and she could not help
but smile.

“That is Easton,” she leaned over finally to
say to Dave, as the steeples and factory chimneys
of a little town came into view.

The girl pointed out her home a few minutes
later, and Dave prepared to make a landing. The
<i>Gossamer</i> came to earth in the middle of a field
a few hundred yards distant from the house the
girl had designated.
.bn 028.png
.pn +1

Long before Dave had released the ropes that
had held his passenger in her seat, people who
had viewed the novelty of a real airship came
flocking to the spot from all directions. Amy
seized the hands of the young aviator, bubbling
over with gratitude. She tried to thank him as
she wished to, but the words would not come.

“Don’t delay, Miss Winston,” said Dave. “I
know they must be very anxious about you at
home.”

Dave led his little charge to the fence surrounding
the field and helped her over it. Then he returned
to the <i>Gossamer</i>. He found that the propellers
had gone through some strain during his
adventure in the storm, and he had some little
work to do with chisel, hammer and wrench.
While he was thus occupied almost a mob surrounded
the airship, curious, gaping and delighted.

A man wearing a big star, and evidently the
policeman of the town, made himself very officious
keeping the crowd back. He had seen an airship
once at a county fair and paraded his knowledge
now. He tried industriously to make himself very
agreeable to the young aviator. Dave had to
laugh secretly to himself as the man pinched his
fingers describing to a local newspaper man that
this was the “magenta”—meaning magneto;
and that the “carbutter”—meaning the carburetor.
.bn 029.png
.pn +1

“You must have been reading up on airships,”
spoke the newspaper man to the policeman, as the
latter walked importantly about the craft, now
and then sternly calling on some small lad to “git
back out th’ way.”

“I have,” came the confident answer. “I
know a lot about ’em. Of course I haven’t ever
sailed in one, but my brother, he’s a policeman
in Long Island, and once, when I was on a visit
to him, he was detailed to go out to a place where
they was havin’ one of these airyplane contests,
and keep order. I went with him, and he swore
me in as his deputy assistant. I seen a lot of
them foreign fellers fly, and I picked up a lot of
information.”

“I suppose so,” murmured the newspaper man,
who was new in town, and did not know enough
to discount the boasting talk of the officer.

“Yes, indeed!” went on the constable. “Why,
once one of them birdmen—they call ’em ‘birdmen’
you know,” he explained as though he knew
it all, “once one of ’em run out of gasoline just
as he was goin’ to start in a prize flight, and if it
hadn’t been for me he’d never won it.”

“How’s that?” asked the reporter.
.bn 030.png
.pn +1

“Why I hustled over to the hangar—that’s the
French word for a balloon shed,” he explained
condescendingly, “I rushed over to the hangar
and got him a can of gasoline and he went up as
slick as anything and won the prize. He said I
helped him a lot, and he gave me a dollar. I
didn’t want to take it, but he insisted. Oh, I
know a lot about airships.”

Dave was so busy tightening some of the guy
wires that had come loosened at the turn buckle,
by reason of the great strain, that he paid little
attention to the reporter and the constable for a
few minutes.

The young aviator, however, noticed that the
officious officer was becoming more and more
familiar with the machine, touching the different
parts, often calling them by their wrong names,
and totally unconscious of his errors. Nor was
the reporter any the wiser.

“I don’t exactly understand what makes the
airship move,” confessed the newspaper man to
the self-appointed instructor. “Is it——?”

“It’s these here perpellers,” explained the constable.
“They work just like an electric fan, you
know.”

“I see, but then the blades of an electric fan
go around but the fan doesn’t sail in the air.
Why is that?”

“Well—er—it’s because—Oh, here’s something
I forgot to explain,” said the constable
quickly, finding himself unexpectedly in deep water.
.bn 031.png
.pn +1
“I’ll tell you about the perpellers later. This
here’s the radiator,” he went on. “It’s full of
water, just like in the radiator of an automobile,
and it keeps the gasoline from boiling over—cools
it off you know.”

“Indeed,” said the reporter, who knew a little
about autos. “But I thought the water was to
keep the engine from getting overheated.”

“Not in an airship,” insisted the constable.
“In an airyplane the radiator keeps the gasoline
cool. I’ll jest show you how it works,” and, before
Dave could stop the man, he had opened a
small faucet in the radiator, designed to drain out
the water.

Now it happened that Dave had been running
his engine very fast, and, in consequence, the
water in the radiator—which really did cool the
motor and not the gasoline—this water was very
hot—in fact some steam was present.

No sooner did the meddlesome constable open
the stop-cock that a jet of steam shot out, burning
his fingers severely. The man jumped back with
an exclamation of pain.

“I—I didn’t know it was so hot!” he cried.
“This must be a new cooling system he’s using on
this affair.”

“I should say it was more like a <i>heating</i> system,”
remarked the reporter, with a smile he
could not conceal.
.bn 032.png
.pn +1

“Ha! Ha! Shiner got burned!” yelled a small
boy who had been ordered away from the craft.
“Shiner got burned! Ha! Ha!”

“Make a cup of tea, Shiner!” yelled another
lad, “Shiner” evidently being the constable’s
nickname.

“I’ll ‘shiner’ you if I git holt of you!” he
threatened, rushing forward with some of his
fingers in his mouth to render the pain less. It
was not a very dignified attitude for a guardian of
the law.

“I wish you’d shut that stop-cock!” cried
Dave, who was busy tightening a part that he
could not very well leave just then. “Shut that
water off, or I’ll lose all there is in the radiator,
and have to put in more.”

“It—it’s too hot,” objected the constable, his
attention drawn from the annoying lads. “I
didn’t know it was so warm. What system do
you use?”

Dave was too annoyed to answer, and the
constable, not wishing to burn himself again, held
back. Meanwhile water and steam were spurting
from the stop-cock.

“I’ll shut it off,” volunteered the reporter,
feeling that he was partly to blame for the incident,
since he had evinced a curiosity that the
constable had tried to gratify.
.bn 033.png
.pn +1

The newspaper man advanced toward the
radiator, which was now enveloped in steam.
Dave saw that he had on no gloves.

“Look out!” cried the young aviator. “You’ll
get a bad burn. That’s very hot. Here,” he
added, “take these pliers, and turn that valve.
I’d do it myself only if I let go this wire it will
slip and I can’t easily get it in place again,” and
Dave indicated where a pair of pliers lay on the
ground.

“I get you,” said the reporter with a smile.
A moment later he had shut the stop-cock and the
stream of water and the hissing steam stopped.

“Cricky! but this burns!” exclaimed the constable.
“I forgot about the radiator part.
Some airships don’t have ’em on.”

“Why not?” asked the reporter.

“Oh, er—well—you see—say, here’s what I
was telling you about, the perpellers, they make
the ship go. You see you turn them around to
start the engine, jest like you crank an auto. I
guess I can turn them over, though it’s pretty
hard. Down on Long Island, where my brother
was that time, I helped one of the birdmen lots.
You jest do it this way,” and he advanced toward
the big wooden propeller.

“Here, don’t touch that!” cried Dave, but he
was too late. The officious constable whirled the
wooden blade around. As it happened Dave had
turned on the switch in order to make a test, and
.bn 034.png
.pn +1
had forgotten, until that moment, to turn it off.
But when he saw what the man was going to do
he realized what would happen. “Let that
alone!” he cried, being unable to get out, as he
was straddling one of the runners to tighten a
wire.

The constable gave the apparatus another turn,
and with a rattle and bang, like a salvo of musketry,
the motor started.

Now there is considerable power to an airship’s
propeller—there has to be to make the craft sail.
As the blades whirled about they fairly blew the
constable back out of the way. His helmet went
sailing off, tossed by the terrific wind created and,
only that he jumped aside in time he would have
been hurt. The airship, too, would have moved
off, only Dave had left the drag-brake on. This
halted it long enough for the young aviator to leap
out and shut off the switch.

“Say!” the lad cried to the constable, “I’ve
a good notion to——”

“I—I didn’t know it would start!” cried the
man, finally managing to get on his feet, for he
had staggered back so fast that he fell. “I didn’t
know it would do that. I—I guess I’ll go up to
the drug store and get something for my burned
fingers,” and, not stopping to give any more information
to the newspaper man, the officer hurried
off, amid the laughter of the crowd.
.bn 035.png
.pn +1

It took Dave half an hour to get the machine as
he wanted. He had a pleasant chat with the local
reporter, who was immensely interested. Dave
got ready to start back for home, when a young
fellow about his own age made his way hurriedly
through the crowd. Our hero observed his resemblance
to his recent passenger. He was excited
and eager, and seized Dave’s hand with
great warmth.

“You are Mr. Dashaway?” he spoke.

“Yes, I am Dave Dashaway,” replied the
young aviator, pleasantly.

“My sister sent me. Oh, how we want to thank
you,” and the tears began to fall down the cheeks
of the manly young fellow.

“How is your mother?” asked Dave, embarrassed
at the growing attention of the listening
crowd about them.

“That’s it, that’s it,” exclaimed young Winston,
brokenly. “You’ve saved her, oh, think of
it; the doctor says she won’t die, now!”

Dave tried to quiet the agitated lad, but the
latter would have his say. From his incoherent
talk Dave gathered that Mrs. Winston had indeed
been near death. The main trouble was that she
imagined her daughter Amy had died away from
home. The girl’s return had quieted the frantic
sufferer. She had received Amy in a wild transport
of delight. Then she had gone to sleep in
.bn 036.png
.pn +1
her daughter’s arms, happy and quiet, the fever
broken; and the doctor had announced that the
crisis was past.

The crowd began to get wind of the pretty little
story of Dave’s heroism. The newspaper man
was excitedly taking notes. The policeman looked
proud at having something of importance happen
in the town of which he was the public guardian,
and the crowd began to shout handsome things at
Dave.

The young aviator was actually blushing as he
started the <i>Gossamer</i> again. Cheers of genuine
enthusiasm rang out, three times three and many
times over, as the machine shot skyward. Then,
as Dave caught sight of a little lady waving a
handkerchief at him from the front porch of the
Winston home, he felt somehow as if a real blessing
had been bestowed upon him.

“It’s a good deal to be an airman,” Dave told
himself. “It’s a good deal more to be able to do
a kind deed and make others happy,” he added,
so glad that he had been of service to Amy
Winston, that he would have been willing to go
through the daring adventure all over again.

The skies had cleared in every direction. The
machinery of the <i>Gossamer</i> worked to a charm on
the return trip to Lake Linden. The dial showed
a trifle over two hundred miles in five hours and
a half.
.bn 037.png
.pn +1

Dave made a run for the turning bar in one
corner of the enclosure to get the stiffness out
of his limbs. Then he hurried over to the living
tent, glad that he had an interesting story to tell
to his fellow airmen.

“Nobody here?” he remarked, looking around.
“Mr. Grimshaw and Hiram must have gone to
town. Probably didn’t expect me home so soon.”

“Hello, there!” spoke an unexpected voice.

Dave turned quickly. Two persons had passed
the gates and were approaching him. He recognized
them at once. One was the foppishly-dressed
man he had seen twice before. The other
was the boy who had shaken his fist at Dave when
the <i>Gossamer</i> had started on the hasty trip to
Easton.

At closer sight than before the young aviator
instantly read his visitors as in a book. The elder
of the twain was about twenty-five or thirty years
of age, and all his elegant attire and rather handsome
face did not disguise his resemblance to some
shrewd sharper who made his way in the world by
living on others.

The boy suggested the spoiled scion of some
wealthy family, with plenty of money, and used to
spending it foolishly. His face was flushed and
excited, and Dave decided that he was under a
very baneful influence in the company he kept.
He was the first to speak.
.bn 038.png
.pn +1

“You are Dashaway, I suppose?” he observed
in a careless, almost insolent way.

“Yes,” said Dave.

“Well, this is my friend, Vernon. Was here
before, to-day.”

“I know he was,” replied Dave.

“Where is the old fellow who was so saucy to
him?”

“What do you want to know for?” demanded
Dave, unable to keep from getting a trifle angry.

“Because he’s due for a trimming, that’s why.
I don’t allow my friends to be treated that way.
See here, I don’t suppose you know who I am,”
observed the speaker, with an air of self-assertion
that was almost ridiculous.

“I don’t,” answered Dave.

“I thought so. That may enlighten you.”

The boy drew an elegant case from his pocket,
selected a card with a tissue paper cover, and
handed it to Dave, who took it, somewhat curious
to know the personality of so presumptuous an
individual. The card read: “<i>Elmer Brackett</i>.”

The name Brackett was suggestive to Dave, but
not altogether enlightening. There was a Mr.
Brackett who was president of the Interstate Aero
Company. Dave read the card over twice, closely
and thoughtfully, then he looked his visitor
squarely in the face.

“Well?” he demanded, coolly.
.bn 039.png
.pn +1

“My name is Brackett, as you probably observe,”
remarked the boy, smartly.

“I see it is.”

“You don’t seem to understand yet,” proceeded
the forward youth. “My father is the owner of
the company that hires you.”

“Well?” again challenged Dave.

“You’ve heard of him, I reckon.”

“Many times,” replied Dave.

Young Brackett looked nettled. Apparently he
had expected Dave to bow with reverence or quake
with fear.

“See here,” he spoke suddenly in a harsh, rasping
tone. “I’m Elmer Brackett, my governor
owns that airship and everything around here.
I’m his son, and I want to give my friend Vernon
a spin in the air.”

“Well,” said Dave simply, “you can’t do it.”
.bn 040.png
.pn +1
.pm chap IV "IN BAD COMPANY"
“What’s that?” shouted young Brackett.

He made a spring forward as if he hoped to
intimidate Dave. The young aviator did not
budge an inch, and his adversary contented himself
with simply glaring at him.

“You heard me,” said Dave, simply.

“Yes,” fired up the fellow named Vernon; “we
heard you, and if I was in Brackett’s place you
wouldn’t be heard much longer. Say, Elmer, why
don’t you wire your father and get some kind of
an accommodating crowd around here.”

“I’d soon show who was boss if I was near
the old man,” grumbled young Brackett.

“I am boss here, if that is what you want to
call it,” said Dave. “This is private property,
I am in charge, and you are trespassers. Outside
of your not coming at me in the right way, I want
to say to you that the <i>Gossamer</i> is here for a
specific purpose, and I have my orders and plans.”
.bn 041.png
.pn +1

“If my father was here, he’d soon order you
to give us a spin in the <i>Gossamer</i>,” declared
Brackett.

“I know who your father is, and respect him
greatly,” replied Dave, “but I would have to have
his written order to do any work outside of
routine.”

“Oh, is that so!” sneered Brackett. “You
seem to make no bones about gallivanting about
in the <i>Gossamer</i> as freely as you choose with your
own particular lady friends.”

Dave made no reply. He did not consider that
his visitors had the fineness of mind to understand
the pathetic circumstances of his efforts in behalf
of the Winston family.

Vernon gave his companion a wink and a nudge.
He whispered some quick words to him that Dave
did not catch. Young Brackett drew out a wallet
stuffed full of money.

“See here, Dashaway,” he spoke, in a tone
meant to be friendly and wheedling; “be a good
fellow. There are some girls down at the hotel I
promised to show the <i>Gossamer</i> to, and what she
could do on the water. I’ll make it a twenty.
Come, help us out.”

“I am sorry,” replied Dave, steadily.

“You won’t do it?”

“No.”
.bn 042.png
.pn +1

Again Vernon whispered to his companion.
The latter nodded his head. Vernon shot a quick
glance about the enclosure. Then, before Dave
could surmise his purpose, the man made a spring
at him.

The young aviator was athletic and strong, but
he had to cope with a full grown man. Vernon
had seized his arms from behind and Dave
struggled in vain.

“Fetch those ropes over near the airship,” directed
Vernon, with an unpleasant laugh. “I’ll
show you how to do this thing.”

Young Brackett looked a trifle frightened.

“See here, Vernon,” he said, “I don’t know
about this.”

“Well, I do,” retorted Vernon, securely twisting
the rope about Dave’s arms and body. “You
said you knew how to run the machine, didn’t
you?”

“Why, I’ve been up in a biplane at the works
several times,” said Brackett, rather hesitatingly.

“What are you afraid of, then? Just because
it’s a bigger machine? Look here, give it a try.”

“What are you going to do with Dashaway?”

“Take him along.”

“What!”

“Certainly, so if we make any blunders he’ll
have to take the helm to help himself out of the
fix.”

“I want to warn you,” cried Dave. “You are
trying a dangerous experiment.”
.bn 043.png
.pn +1

Vernon only laughed. Brackett put on a braggart
air of over-confidence. The former lifted
Dave into one of the seats and took his own behind
the pilot post.

“All right,” announced Brackett, climbing into
the forward seat. “I think I can manage the machine.”

Dave cast a hopeless look towards the gates of
the enclosure. There was no sign of Grimshaw or
Hiram. He watched the bungling of Brackett
over the delicate mechanism, fearful as to the
outcome of the resolution of the reckless fellow.

“Self-starter, eh?” he heard the presumptuous
pilot say. “I know how to operate that.
What’s this little mirror for? Oh, yes, to index
the curves. Pshaw! I can’t go wrong if I watch
that.”

“Can’t you? Oh, my!” muttered Dave.

Young Brackett was all right at the wheel.
His brief biplane experience counted for enough
to enable him to make a very pretty swoop aloft.
He was so delighted at this that he chuckled:

“Say, I guess I’ll take a job at running the
governor’s machine myself. Hey, what?”

“Good for you—doing finely,” commended
Vernon. “Get over the lake, Brackett. If you
can manage to sail the machine we’ll take the
girls for a ride.”
.bn 044.png
.pn +1

Dave held his breath. Brackett had split half
a circle abruptly, and the <i>Gossamer</i> got ready for
a dive. By some accident the frightened pilot
banked just in time to save a spill.

“Don’t change your course—don’t dare to!”
fairly shouted the excited Dave, as he saw that
any further attempt at a head change in novice
hands meant sure destruction for the <i>Gossamer</i>.

Young Brackett was terribly frightened. In
his fear and dismay he turned on the full power,
but let the machine run a perfectly straight course.
It was, however, on an angle of about fifty degrees.

“What’s he to do?” chattered Vernon, himself
growing pale and nerveless.

“I can’t tell—I can only show him. If the
course is not changed, the machine will hit the
earth going forty miles an hour,” declared Dave.

“Show him, then! show him!” gasped Vernon.

He reached over with trembling hands and began
to loosen the ropes with which he had bound
the young aviator. In some way they had become
tangled, and in that circumscribed space he dared
not move about freely. The <i>Gossamer</i> tipped
slightly, and its dismayed pilot let out a yell of
fear.

While Vernon was tugging breathlessly at the
ropes, Dave noted that the machine was due to
land with a terrific shock inside of two minutes.
It just grazed the tops of some tall trees. Then
it missed a flagpole in the center of some private
grounds.
.bn 045.png
.pn +1

“Shut off the power, or we are lost!” cried
Dave.

Brackett had just enough sense left to obey him,
but that did not prevent a catastrophe. They
were just passing near some glass-covered hothouses.
The first one they skidded. At the second
one the head of the machine ripped the top
row of glasses out of place like a toboggan shoe
splintering a stretch of thin ice. Then the under
floats tangled in the frame work, and Dave bore
company with the others in a dive into a bed of
geraniums.

The shock of even that soft landing place was
sufficient to half stun our hero for the moment.
In a dim blur of vision he seemed to see two figures
limping away. He caught sight of the machine
lying half-way through a frail trellis. Then he
heard these startled words in an unfamiliar
voice:

“Hello! I say, what’s this?”

Dave looked up to see a man in gardener’s
garb staring in turn at himself, the <i>Gossamer</i>, and
the havoc the machine had made.

“If you’ll help me up,” said Dave, rather
faintly; “I’ll try to explain.”

“You’ll have to!” cried the gardener. “Who
ever heard of such a thing? Get up, but don’t
you try to run away from all the mischief you’ve
done.”
.bn 046.png
.pn +1

“Hardly,” promised Dave, as the man cut the
ropes securing him. “How badly is the machine
damaged?”

“How badly are my greenhouses damaged,
you’d better say!” shouted the man. “Say, who’s
to pay for all this wreck and ruin?”

“Don’t worry about that,” replied Dave.
“The company will settle with you.”

“I don’t know anything about your company,”
retorted the man. “If you’re Dashaway——”

“I am.”

“I’ve heard of you, and you look like a decent,
honest fellow. But say, this is an awful fix for
me. I’m only in charge here, and I don’t know
but the boss will hold me responsible for what’s
happened and take the damage out of my small
pay.”

“I will see that he doesn’t do that,” pledged
Dave.

The man was almost crying in his fright and
distress.

“You estimate what it will cost to replace
things as they were,” directed Dave, “and I’ll
settle it right out of my own pocket before I even
leave here.”

“You will?” cried the gardener, joyfully.
.bn 047.png
.pn +1

“You can depend upon it. Did you see anything
of two fellows who were in the machine with
me?”

“Yes, I saw two young men running for that
back fence yonder. They got out of sight pretty
quick.”

“I’m glad they weren’t hurt, anyway,” thought
Dave.

The gardener went around, surveying the
damage done to the greenhouses, while Dave examined
the <i>Gossamer</i>. Our hero was agreeably
surprised to find that outside of the warping of
one of the wings and a twisted propeller, the machine
had suffered very slight injury.

“A lucky escape,” he said to himself. “Those
venturesome fellows were never nearer death than
fifteen minutes ago.”

“I say, what’s this, Dashaway!”

It was Grimshaw who spoke, pale and out of
breath. Equally startled and anxious, Hiram
Dobbs, following him, came rushing up to the
spot.
.bn 048.png
.pn +1
.pm chap V "“THE RIGHT KIND”"
“Oh, say, Dave, what’s happened, anyway?”
burst out the irrepressible Hiram.

“You see,” observed Dave, with a sweeping
wave of his hand.

“Yes, I see,” said Grimshaw. “But you never
ran the <i>Gossamer</i> into all this!”

“No, I wasn’t the pilot on this occasion,” admitted
Dave.

“I told you so!” cried Hiram, jubilantly.
“When we first saw the airship and its queer doings,
and ran after it, didn’t I tell you that Dave
couldn’t be at the wheel, Mr. Grimshaw?”

“You did, and I felt sure he wasn’t,” commented
Grimshaw. “Who was?” he challenged,
bluntly.

“That’s quite a story,” explained Dave.

“Then tell it.”

“I don’t want much said about it for the present,”
stipulated the young aviator.

“All right,” nodded Grimshaw.
.bn 049.png
.pn +1

Dave motioned his friends out of earshot of the
gardener, who was pottering about his broken
panes. Then he told the whole story.

“Why, the wretches!” growled old Grimshaw,
fiercely, when the narrative was concluded.

“The mean sneaks!” exclaimed the indignant
Hiram. “Left you here in that fix, not knowing
whether you were dead or alive.”

“I’d have those two rascals locked up, double-quick,”
advised Grimshaw.

“No,” dissented Dave.

“Why not?”

“I want to think things over a bit, before I
decide on what I shall do,” was the reply. “I
have no patience with the fellow called Vernon.”

“Take my word for it, he’s a bad one,” declared
Grimshaw.

“The other one—young Brackett—I feel sorry
for.”

“Of course you do,” observed Grimshaw,
rather sarcastically; “that’s your usual way.
Who’s going to pay for the damage here? Say,
you take my advice—teach those two smart
Alecks a lesson by having them arrested, and send
the bill to Mr. Brackett, telling him all the circumstances.”

“I’d a good deal rather help young Brackett
than harm him,” said Dave, considerately. “He
doesn’t strike me as a bad fellow at heart. It’s
the influence of Vernon that is leading him into
trouble.”
.bn 050.png
.pn +1

“How’s the machine?”

“Not in very bad shape. I think there are
enough tools and materials aboard to mend her up
till we get home.”

All three of them looked the <i>Gossamer</i> over
critically. Expert that he was, old Grimshaw soon
had the machine free of the trellis and the injured
parts repaired. Dave went over to the gardener,
who was figuring on the side of a fence post with
a piece of chalk.

“Well, my friend,” he said cheerily; “what’s
the damage?”

“Why, you’re acting so handsomely about it,
I want to make the bill as reasonable as I can,”
was the reply.

“Of course you do—that’s the right way.”

“The frames aren’t much broken,” explained
the man. “About all there is to do is to replace
the glass.”

“Yes, but there’s a heap of it,” said Dave.

“We buy the panes by the gross. I’m willing
to do the setting and puttying myself. I think
twenty dollars will cover everything.”

Dave took out his pocket book, selected some
bank bills, and handed them to the man. He
heard an ominous growl from old Grimshaw behind
him, and caught a “S’t! S’t! S’t!” from the
exasperated Hiram. Dave, however, had his own
ideas as to disposing of the matter in hand.
.bn 051.png
.pn +1

“If you find it’s more, you know where to see
me,” said Dave to the gardener.

“Say, you’re an easy one,” observed Grimshaw,
with a look of disgust on his face.

“It’s a shame to let those vandals go scot free,”
scolded Hiram.

“I’m glad the <i>Gossamer</i> didn’t get smashed up,
as I feared,” was all the young aviator would
reply.

Dave made pretty sure that the machine would
stand a trip back to the enclosure. To his satisfaction
he made the flight without any mishap.
Looking the craft over more critically after the
return, however, he decided that the wings and
floats would need some expert attention before he
could venture any extended flight.

It was dark by the time they got the airship
housed and supper ready in the living tent. After
the meal Hiram strolled away, saying he would
go to town after the evening mail. Dave and
Grimshaw went inside the tent as a shower came
up. They chatted agreeably, watching the gentle
rain in the glint of the tent light.

“Hello,” said the old man, bending his ear
sharply.

“Yes,” nodded Dave, “some one is knocking at
the gate.”
.bn 052.png
.pn +1

“I’ll go and see who it is.”

“Maybe it’s Hiram.”

“No, he’s got a key.”

Grimshaw went away. Dave heard him talking
with someone outside the gate. He was a little
surprised as his old friend secured the gate after
him. He was further puzzled to note the expression
on Grimshaw’s face as he came back into the
tent.

“Who was it, Mr. Grimshaw?” questioned
Dave.

“Humph! he didn’t get in. Now see here, you
take my advice and don’t run into another trap.”

“Another trap?”

“That’s what I said. There’s a fellow out
there that wants to see you. He’s mighty meek
and humble, but from what you told me I guess
pretty straight that he’s the chap who tried to run
the <i>Gossamer</i> this afternoon.”

“Is he alone?” asked Dave, rising quickly
from the camp stool.

“Yes, he’s alone. If the bigger fellow had been
with him I’d have licked him.”

“And he wants to see me?” questioned Dave.

“Mealy mouthed and subdued, just that.”

“Why didn’t you invite him in?”

“Why didn’t I? Say, Dave Dashaway!”
stormed the old man, “I believe in forgiving dispositions,
but drat me if I’d quite let a trouble-maker
like that young Brackett get a second chance
to mix things up.”
.bn 053.png
.pn +1

“I hardly think he means any harm this time,”
said Dave, and hurried to the gate.

Outside, a patch of sticking plaster over one
eye and one arm in a sling, and looking rather
mean and ashamed, young Brackett dropped his
glance as Dave appeared.

“Come in, won’t you?” invited the young
aviator, quite heartily.

“No, I don’t think I’d better,” replied his
visitor, in a low tone. “See here, Dashaway,
I’ve got my senses back, and I don’t want you or
anybody else to think I’m some cheap cad.”

“Certainly not,” responded Dave. “What’s
the trouble?”

“I’ve come to give you this money,” explained
Brackett, extending his hand. “As soon as I got
enough over being scared to feel ashamed of myself,
I slipped away from that confounded
Vernon. He’s always getting me into trouble.”

“What do you run with him for, then?” questioned
Dave, gently. “See here,” he added, placing
his hand in a friendly way on the boy’s
shoulder; “you may be headstrong and foolish at
times, but that man doesn’t belong in your
class.”
.bn 054.png
.pn +1

“You’re just right,” began Brackett, in a
spirited way, and then, as if he feared to go farther
into the subject, he added in a moody, dissatisfied
tone: “Never mind about that. I’ve
come to pay you back the twenty dollars you gave
to the man down at the greenhouses. I went to
pay him myself, but you had gotten ahead of me.
I can’t let you stand for one cent of damage I did,
and if there’s any other expense——”

“None at all,” Dave hastened to say. “See
here, you’ve shown me you are the right sort. I
don’t like that man Vernon, and down at heart I
don’t think you do, either.”

“It don’t matter whether I do or not,” muttered
the boy. “I don’t dare to break away from
him till—well till—I feel I’m safe out of his
clutches.”

“If you are in any foolish trouble——” began
Dave.

“I won’t discuss it,” declared young Brackett,
quite stormily. “Take the money, and—see here,
Dashaway, I’ll give worlds to keep this from the
old man.”

“You mean your father?”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you say so, then,” upbraided
Dave.

Young Brackett bit his lip.

“I’ll try to after this,” he promised, quite
humbly. “That’s all,” he added, as Dave took
the bank notes.
.bn 055.png
.pn +1

“I do wish you’d make a friend of me and let
me help you out, if it will do any good,” said
Dave, wistfully.

Brackett dropped his head. Then he gave it a
savage jerk.

“You’re all right, Dashaway,” he said, “but
I’ve got to pay for my fast sledding, and I’ll do
it like a man.”

“Come and see me again,” invited Dave.

“Hardly,” responded Brackett. “Our paths
probably won’t cross again—and you’re probably
the gainer for it.”

“I don’t know that,” declared Dave. “Rest
easy on one score—I shall not say anything to
your father about to-day’s scrape.”

“Thank you, Dashaway.”

“But I wish you would tell him. Come, now—he’s
your best friend. If you’ve been a little wild,
go to him and tell him about it.”

“A little wild!” repeated Brackett. Then he
gave a bitter laugh, waved his hand at Dave, and
disappeared in the darkness.

“Poor fellow!” said Dave, thoughtfully.
“I’m afraid, as he hinted, he is in the clutches
of that sharper, Vernon. I wish I knew a way
to help him out.”

Dave re-entered the enclosure a good deal
subdued. Young Brackett had said that their
paths might never cross again. Dave hoped if
they ever did cross his late visitor would be in a
better frame of mind.
.bn 056.png
.pn +1

Their paths were to cross, indeed, although
neither of them realized it at that moment. Dave
Dashaway was to hear of him again very soon,
and in a truly remarkable way.
.bn 057.png
.pn +1
.pm chap VI "A MYSTERIOUS FLASH"
“Well, what did he want?” challenged
Grimshaw, gruffly, as the young aviator entered
the living tent.

“It was young Brackett,” said Dave. “He
came to settle the damage up at the 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 good in 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
and his crowd had done you all kinds of harm,
stolen the <i>Drifter</i> and tried to put you out of business,
you let him go scot free.”

“Hoping Jerry had learned his lesson and
would behave himself.”
.bn 058.png
.pn +1

“Which he won’t,” affirmed the old man,
strenuously. “I’ll wager he’ll pop up in some
mean way before you get through with this giant
airship scheme.”

“There’s Hiram,” announced Dave, brightly,
as the gate slammed and a cheery whistle echoed
through the enclosure.

Dave’s loyal young assistant came into the tent
flushed and animated from a run in the rain.

“Any mail?” inquired Dave.

“Yes, a letter and a telegram,” replied Hiram,
handing two envelopes to Dave.

The young aviator opened the telegram first.
He looked at its enclosure so long and steadily
that his two friends began to regard him with
deep curiosity.

“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 it mean?”

Dave shook his head vaguely.

“I really don’t know,” he admitted.

Hiram began to grin. Then he laughed outright.
.bn 059.png
.pn +1

“Do you?” demanded Dave, glancing suspiciously
at his friend.

Hiram slapped his knee emphatically, chuckling
the while. He began feeling in the outside pockets
of his coat.

“I didn’t know at first,” he spoke; “but I think
I can guess it out now.”

Hiram drew out a folded newspaper, opened it
up, glanced over it, and refolded 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 glowing article about the unselfish
heroism of a rising young aviator, who had
encountered vivid danger in doing a noble service
for a poor girl.

Dave saw at once that the enterprising newspaper
man at Easton had made a fine story of the
sensational episode. The <i>Gossamer</i> was lauded
for its handsome conduct in a storm, and the Interstate
Aero Company was commended for building
such a staunch aircraft. Dave was given
full justice, and the interesting little story was
told in a very pathetic way.

“You understand now, I reckon, Dave?”
chuckled Hiram.

“Why, in a way, yes.”
.bn 060.png
.pn +1

“I suppose the story has been telegraphed all
over the country,” said Hiram. “It’s a good one.
The Interstate people saw it, and wired you at
once.”

Old Grimshaw read the newspaper article
eagerly in his turn. He gloated over 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 a face 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 handwriting and the postmark.”

“Yes,” replied Dave.

“Anything interesting about the giant airship?”

“A whole lot,” answered Dave, briskly. “It
seems that Mr. Dale has been fortunate enough
to find a French aero man who spent several
years in foreign dirigible service. Mr. King
writes that he is something of an inventor and a
practical man in airship construction.”

“That’s famous, Dashaway,” voted Grimshaw,
with enthusiasm.

.bn 061.png
.pn +1
“They are going to push the big craft towards
completion just as fast as they can,” reported
Dave. “Mr. King writes that they need me and
that he is financing the project on my account.
He wants me to get the Interstate people to release
us, and all of us get to Croydon soon as we
can.”

“Then the trip across the Atlantic is a sure
thing!” cried the excited Hiram.

“Mr. King thinks so.”

“Hurrah!” shouted the delighted lad.

“I hope they count me in,” spoke Grimshaw,
a flicker of the old professional fire and ardor in
his eyes. “Since I got knocked out of service 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 settled that in my last talk
with him.”

“He did?”

“Yes. He says you understand a dirigible
better than he does a monoplane.”

“I’m pretty well posted on balloons, yes,” asserted
the veteran aeronaut, with a look of considerable
pride.

There was little else talked of by the friends
but the giant airship the rest of that evening.
Dave, later, devoted an hour to writing a long
letter to the Interstate people. He told them that
Mr. King needed him, and hoped they could find
it convenient to release him without delay from
his contract.
.bn 062.png
.pn +1

Like the real business boy and faithful employe
that he was, however, Dave went through regular
routine duty the next day. The agent of the company
brought down his clients that afternoon, and
Dave showed off the <i>Gossamer</i> at her best paces.

The ensuing day and the one next following he
made the regular ascents for the resort people.

The expected reply to Dave’s letter finally arrived.
The Interstate people wrote that they
were sorry to lose so valued an employe, and
added a pleasant word concerning Grimshaw and
Hiram. They hoped that the giant airship exploit
would be a great success, and announced that at
any time a good position for Dave was open with
them.

A liberal check was enclosed in the letter, and
the statement made that a man to take charge of
the <i>Gossamer</i> would leave the works for Lake
Linden the next day.

Dave looked around for young Brackett whenever
he strolled about the lake resort and the village.
He did not, however, come across either
the youth or the man Vernon. He made some inquiries,
and was troubled to learn that the pair
had gotten into a fight at the town hotel, had
smashed up some furniture, and had left the place
with a pretty bad record.
.bn 063.png
.pn +1

Dave gave a day to his successor, teaching him
the ropes. Monday afternoon he had everything
packed up ready to take the train for Croydon,
where the giant airship was under construction.
Hiram, who had been earning very good wages
of late, had ordered a new suit of clothes in the
village. It would not be done until the next morning.

“You go ahead, Dashaway,” advised Grimshaw.
“There’s nothing to keep you here, and
Mr. King seems to need you. Hiram and I will
come on to-morrow.”

This arrangement was agreed on. Dave took
the train, and reached Croydon about dusk. He
found it to be a busy little manufacturing city near
the coast. From what Mr. King had written him,
and through some inquiries, Dave was soon on
his way to the so-called aerodrome, where the
giant airship was being built.

An old roofless molding shop had been utilized
for the construction. It looked lonely and deserted
as Dave came up to it. The windows were
boarded up, apparently to keep out prying eyes.
The big front doors were closely padlocked, and
a temporary canvas roof was in place.

The street lamps of the city ran out to the
factory, and nearby were some houses. Dave felt
sure that Mr. King and the others had taken
living quarters in the vicinity. He had no doubt
that a little inquiry would result in locating them.
.bn 064.png
.pn +1

Dave walked around the old plant, thinking a
good deal of the proud hopes that attached to
the big airship inside. The upper pair of windows
of the place were not boarded up. Dave’s
eyes chanced to be scanning these 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 of windows from the interior of the
building. It resembled the illumination made 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 could not figure out the
circumstances for the moment. He was puzzled,
and yet reluctant to leave the spot without learning
what the mysterious flash portended.

“Someone!” spoke Dave, suddenly.

Then he broke into a run. Mystery had become
suspicion. Against the light 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 upper windows.

The window was open. Through the aperture
a form had quickly scrambled. Dave felt sure
that some underhand work was in progress.
.bn 065.png
.pn +1

“Hey, there; who are you? What are you
up to?” he shouted.

As he challenged, Dave ran towards the ladder.
The person descending it hurried his progress,
leaped from it, cast a hurried look at the
approaching youth, and darted across the street.

Our hero noticed that he held in one hand a
small black case about ten inches square.

As the fugitive turned the street corner he
looked again to see how closely he was being
pursued. The lamp light fell full upon his face.

“The mischief!” fairly shouted the amazed
young aviator. “It’s Jerry Dawson!”
.bn 066.png
.pn +1
.pm chap VII "AT THE AERODROME"
Dave Dashaway was greatly startled. All
along the line of his airship experience Jerry Dawson
had crossed his path, always in a threatening
and troublesome way. A quick thinker, the young
aviator traced a new menace in this unexpected
appearance of the scampish plotter.

“It certainly means no good for either my
friends or myself,” reflected our hero. “What
mischief has he been up to inside the aerodrome?
That flash meant something. What?”

Dave ran on for a bit, but soon discovered that
he was wasting time in striving to overtake the
fugitive. Jerry had made good his escape among
the scattered buildings beyond the street corner
where he had disappeared from view.

Dave hurried to the house nearest to the aerodrome.
He ran up its steps and knocked briskly
at its door. A woman appeared in response to
the summons.
.bn 067.png
.pn +1

“I am looking for the people working in the
old factory over yonder,” explained Dave, hurriedly.

“Oh, yes, the balloon folks, you mean? They
board at my sister’s house.”

“And where is that?”

“Second house from the next corner. Number
twenty-seven.”

“Thank you,” said Dave and was off like a
flash. “Oh, Mr. King!” he called out a moment
later, as he recognized the well-known figure of
the veteran airman crossing the street just ahead
of him.

“Why, Dashaway!” exclaimed Mr. King, in a
hearty way. “We’ve been expecting you, and
I’m glad you’ve come. Grimshaw and
Hiram——”

“I’ll tell you later,” interrupted Dave, rather
unceremoniously. “Mr. King, get right over
to the aerodrome. Something’s up.”

“Why, what do you mean, Dashaway?”

“Mischief is brewing, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Mischief? In what way?”

The young airman lost no time in briefly recounting
his discovery. He had Mr. King as
thoroughly stirred up as himself by the time he
had concluded his graphic recital.

“This is serious,” declared Mr. King, very
much disturbed. “Dawson again, eh? It’s easy
to guess trouble when that young scapegrace is
around. It fits in with—but that will keep.
There is no time to wait. Stay here for a minute.”
.bn 068.png
.pn +1

The expert aviator dashed into the house, while
Dave waited in the street. He kept his eye fixed
on the aerodrome, half expecting every moment
to see it burst into flames.

“Here we are,” announced Mr. King, reappearing
on a run with two companions. One of
them was Mr. Dale, who grasped Dave’s hand
while hurrying along. The other man Dave had
never seen before.

“That is Leblance, our new man,” explained
Mr. Dale.

“Don’t delay!” called out Mr. King, excitedly,
leading the way, and the group reached the entrance
to the aerodrome in less than two minutes.

Mr. King unlocked the door. As he opened it
he reached in and touched the button controlling
the electric lights. A blaze of radiance suddenly
illuminated the rambling place, making it as
bright as day.

In the center of the shop, supported on a working
frame and by the iron girders aloft, was the
skeleton of the giant airship. The young aviator
was eagerly ready for full attention to the object
so dear to him. All his faculties, however, were
for the instant enlisted in an effort to trace out
the significance of the surreptitious visit of Jerry
Dawson.
.bn 069.png
.pn +1

“There does not seem to be anything out of
place,” said Mr. King, after a swift survey of the
dirigible balloon.

“Oh, but I smell powder,” observed Leblance,
sniffing.

“Powder?” repeated Mr. Dale.

“Yes. There has been some kind of an explosion
here,” insisted the French engineer looking
around.

Dave hurried over to the window where he had
first discovered Jerry Dawson. There were a
number of tall, slim ladders all about the working
framework. He lifted one of these against the
sill of the window aloft. Then he ran up its
rounds nimbly.

“Aha!” suddenly exclaimed the young aviator.

“Found something, Dashaway?” called out
Mr. King.

“Yes, sir.”

“What is it?”

For reply Dave quickly descended the ladder.
He held in one hand a sooted tin disc. Its center
showed a little heap of hard cinders.

“I found this on the window sill,” he explained.

“What is it?” questioned Mr. Dale.

“I think I guess the motive of Jerry Dawson’s
visit now,” said Dave. “The little black box he
had under his arm was a camera. This is the
flashlight disc.”
.bn 070.png
.pn +1

“Hello!” exclaimed Mr. King, comprehendingly.

“They have been photographing our balloon!”
cried Leblance.

“Exactly,” asserted the young aviator.

The engineer and Mr. Dale exchanged disturbed
looks. Mr. King was thoughtful.

“We might have expected it,” he said, but to
Dave only.

“How is that?” inquired our hero.

“I’ll tell you soon as we reach the house. I
am glad they did no harm to the balloon. I
hardly think they will try that, Leblance,” he
said to the Frenchman, “but you had better get
one of your men to stay on watch here nights.”

“Yes, yes,” responded Leblance earnestly.
“We have been warned, we must look out.”

“Come with me, Dashaway,” said Mr. King.
“I have a lot to talk over with you.”

Mr. Dale remained at the aerodrome until
Leblance could hunt up one of his workmen and
place him on watchman’s duty. The aviator led
his young friend to the boarding house. Dave
declared that he was not hungry, but his host
would not consent to this impending talk until he
had dispatched a good meal. Then he took him
to his own room, locked the door to secure them
from interruption, and made him take a comfortable
armchair.
.bn 071.png
.pn +1

“You have arrived in the nick of time, Dashaway,”
said Mr. King. “I’ve felt the need of you
for some days.”

“I can’t be of much assistance until the airship
is finished, I should think,” suggested the young
aviator.

“That is true so far as the <i>Albatross</i> is concerned,”
agreed Mr. King. “That end of the
proposition is in capable hands, I am glad to say.
We have been very fortunate in securing the services
of Leblance. He is an expert in airship construction,
helped to build several models in
Europe, and has some splendid new ideas. I am
now satisfied that the <i>Albatross</i> will be all that
we have hoped for.”

“That is good,” said Dave.

“It seems that our project has made quite a
stir in the aviation world,” proceeded Mr. King.
“All the clubs are interested, the central association
has taken the matter up, and there is a chance
of a bulk prize of at least fifty thousand dollars
being offered.”

“Grand!” commented Dave, with sparkling
eyes. “It’s worth trying for, isn’t it, Mr. King?”

“And we will get it, if there’s no miss in our
plans—and no trickery, Dashaway,” asserted the
veteran airman, confidently. “I have counted all
the risks and chances. Given fair conditions, I
believe our group will successfully make the first
.bn 072.png
.pn +1
airship voyage across the Atlantic. To-morrow
I will show you how far we have progressed, and
how carefully Leblance is planning to turn out
the finest dirigible ever constructed. It will make
you as hopeful and enthusiastic as myself.”

“I’m that already,” insisted the young aviator.

“Very good, but I need your services for a certain
phase of the proposition that is worrying me.”

“What is that, Mr. King?”

“Well, Dashaway,” answered the expert airman,
“I have reason to believe that we will not
be the only contestant in a race across the Atlantic.
In fact,” continued Mr. King, seriously,
“I am quite certain that the rival of the <i>Albatross</i>
is being built now.”
.bn 073.png
.pn +1
.pm chap VIII "THE RIVAL AIRSHIP"
“A rival in the field?” said the young
aviator, with a good deal of interest and curiosity.

“Yes,” nodded Mr. King. “It isn’t that I
didn’t expect it. We have no exclusive patent on
building an airship and trying to cross the Atlantic.
We do want to know what we have to fight
against, though.”

“Yes, it is always best to find out what your
competitors are doing,” agreed Dave.

“Well, there are several we have run down
and dismissed from our minds. Two-thirds of
them are cranks seeking notoriety. Some of the
others are inventors who know all about
mechanics, but nothing practical concerning aircraft.
It would amuse you to go over some of the
wild schemes they are getting up. One proposition
has kept me busy thinking.”

“What is that, Mr. King?”

“You remember a man named Davidson?”
.bn 074.png
.pn +1

“Why, certainly,” responded the young aviator
at once. “He is the fellow they ran out of the
Springfield aero meet.”

“That’s the man,” assented Mr. King, “an unscrupulous
trickster. He has been tabooed by all
legitimate airmen, but he has bobbed up again
with his old-time nerve and audacity. Look
there.”

The aviator selected a bunch of newspaper
clippings from a drawer in his desk, and pushed
them over to his young friend.

Dave scanned them rapidly. An item hinted
mysteriously at a grand exploit in aeronautics
about to be undertaken by the “celebrated” airman,
Roger Davidson. A later article purported
to show the possibility of sailing a dirigible balloon
across the Atlantic.

A column story followed. It referred to the
great interest in the international exploit, and
named the rich prize ready for the successful
competitor. It was understood that Roger
Davidson was preparing to enter the race, and a
superb aircraft was being built for him at an
aero plant at Senca.

“I suppose you remember that Jerry Dawson
and his father were in the employ of Davidson
for a time, Mr. King?” observed Dave.

“I recall it perfectly,” nodded the aviator.

“And Jerry being here to-night shows they are
together again.”
.bn 075.png
.pn +1

“It looks that way. As long as they only try
to steal our thunder I don’t so much mind,” remarked
the airman. “It may be the start for
something worse, you see. I am tied up here with
Leblance. I want you to ferret out the Davidson
crowd and find if they are really up to something.”

“I can do that,” assured the young aviator,
confidently.

“None better, I know. Get their line-up, Dashaway.
Find out if they are really in earnest, or
only jockeying for notoriety, or fleecing some
gullible promoter.”

“All right,” agreed Dave; and that settled it
with Mr. King, who had full confidence in the
shrewd wits and fidelity of the boy he had taught
to fly.

Dave was to start for Senca the next evening.
He passed a glorious morning at the aerodrome.
The French inventor was one of the most interesting
men he had ever met. Leblance was all
business, but very enthusiastic and optimistic in
his work. He took a fancy to Dave, and told him
things about transatlantic aircraft and airmen
that were part of an actual education to the young
aspirant for aeronautic honors.

The construction of the <i>Albatross</i> had progressed
far enough to show a practical form and
substance. No expense was being spared. The
.bn 076.png
.pn +1
men under Leblance were experts in their line,
and Dave was amazed at the details they were
working out.

“It’s money well invested,” declared Mr. Dale,
“if it only serves to produce the most perfect airship
ever built.”

“Why, if they put all the things in the <i>Albatross</i>
they count on,” said Dave, “it will be like a
trip on a high-class ocean steamship!”

“Wait till she’s done, my friend,” observed
Leblance. “We shall see—and we shall cross
the Atlantic; oh, never fear.”

Grimshaw and Hiram put in an appearance by
noon. The latter went wild over the <i>Albatross</i>.
He believed implicitly in Dave, and the young
aviator believed in the giant airship under construction.

“If they let me go on that trip,” said Hiram,
breathlessly, “I’ll be the proudest and the happiest
fellow in the world.”

“You are going, if any of us do,” promised
Mr. King, and the delighted Hiram moved about
as if he was treading on air.

Mr. King went down to the train with Dave.

“Don’t run into any danger, Dashaway,” he
advised. “You are going to deal with a wicked-tempered
crowd, remember that.”

“I shall remember,” promised Dave; “and
profit by your warning.”
.bn 077.png
.pn +1

Hiram was rather lonesome over the absence
of his friend the next day. The ensuing one he
got restless and anxious.

“I tell you what,” he said, confidently to Grimshaw
the next afternoon; “if Dave don’t show up
soon, I’m going after him.”

“Dashaway knows how to take care of himself—trust
him for that,” insisted the old airman.

“Well, I can’t stand this worry. If he don’t
come by to-morrow, I’m going to look him up.”

Grimshaw said nothing to this. He was, in
fact, also a trifle disturbed over the prolonged
absence of Dave. His grim face relaxed into
genuine relief and gladness that evening, as, just
after dusk, the young aviator broke in upon the
airship group.

Dave was brisk and cheery as usual, and all
hands gave him a cordial greeting. Mr. King
and Leblance were eager to hear his report at
once.

“Well,” said Dave, “I’ve found out about all
there is to discover down at Senca.”

“Does it amount to anything?” inquired the
aviator.

“That’s for you and Mr. Leblance to say.”

“Run across that fine specimen of humanity,
young Dawson?” asked Grimshaw, in a kind of
a growl.
.bn 078.png
.pn +1

“He had been sent to New York for some balloon
material,” explained Dave, “so I got along
finely, for Davidson doesn’t know me by sight.
Sure enough, they are building a dirigible balloon,”
continued Dave. “They’ve found a
backer who has put up several thousand dollars.
They talk big of how sure they are of reaching
Liverpool in a week’s time,” and Dave smiled.

“What are you smiling at, Dashaway?” inquired
Mr. King.

“You would smile if you saw the craft they are
building,” declared Dave. “To tell you the
truth, I can’t get away from the suspicion that the
whole thing is what people call a fake.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I had no trouble in getting into their
workroom. The way they act, the machine
they’re getting up—well, I almost made up my
mind that Davidson is doing all this to get some
of the promoter’s easy money. If the <i>Dictator</i>
ever sails a hundred miles, let alone a thousand,
it will be doing well.”

“What kind of a craft is this <i>Dictator</i>?” inquired
Leblance, with professional interest.

“I’ll show you,” said Dave, feeling in his
pocket. “The fact is, I gave those fellows tit for
tat.”

“As how?” questioned the curious Hiram.

.bn 079.png
.pn +1
“Well, they stole a photograph of the <i>Albatross</i>.
I had the chance to draw a picture of
the Dictator, and here it is.”

The young aviator produced a paper roll from
his pocket. Dave was a natural draughtsman.
As he spread out the paper a well-traced penciled
outline was revealed.

“Let me see it,” spoke Leblance, eagerly.
“Ah, you have done well.”

The keen eyes of the French inventor scanned
the drawing intently. Then, suddenly and with
great excitement of manner, he threw it upon the
table.

“Preposterous!” he exclaimed. “Nonsense!
Absurd! My friend King, we have nothing to
fear. The <i>Dictator</i> is a botch, a farce. Whoever
constructed it is a novice, a dabbler! That
machine could not fly ten miles!”
.bn 080.png
.pn +1
.pm chap IX "IN THE LEAD"
“Someone here to see you, Dave.”

Hiram greeted the young aviator with this announcement
one evening, two weeks after their
arrival at Croydon.

“Is that so?” said Dave. “Who was it?”

“I can’t say, for he wouldn’t tell his name. I
was walking along the fence around the aerodrome,
and just as I neared the gates he popped
out from behind a pile of boards, just as if he
had been in hiding.”

“Did he ask for me?”

“Yes. I told him you were here quite regularly,
and always evenings at the boarding house. The
fellow looked peaked and scared, and backed
away as soon as he saw someone coming down
the street. He mumbled something about finding
you.”

The young airman could not surmise who his
strange visitor might be. He ransacked his mind,
wondering if it could be some one of his old
friends from his home town. Then he said:

“Describe him to me, Hiram, will you?”
.bn 081.png
.pn +1

“Why,” explained Hiram, “he was a trifle
older than I am, and taller; yes, fully two inches
taller. Oh, by the way, he wore a false
mustache.”

“What’s that?” challenged Dave, half guessing
Hiram was joking. But the narrator looked
earnest enough. “You say he wore a false mustache?”

“Sure thing,” persisted Hiram.

“How did you know it was false?”

“Because it came partly off just as the boy
turned his face away. Say, you couldn’t tell much
about him. His face and hands were all grimed
up, and he had his cap pulled way down over his
eyes. It was funny, though, one thing.”

“What, Hiram?”

“For all his trampish looks, I noticed that his
linen was fine and white, and the necktie he wore
was one of those expensive ones you see in good
furnishing shops.”

“Is that so?” observed Dave, musingly. Then
a quick thought came to his mind. He put Hiram
through a rapid course of cross-questioning.

“I am satisfied it is young Brackett,” said Dave,
to himself. “But why in that trim, and acting
like a fugitive? Hiram,” he added aloud, “keep
your eye out for that boy. I am sure he is in
some kind of trouble, and wishes to see me very
much.”
.bn 082.png
.pn +1

“All right,” nodded Hiram, carelessly. “He
won’t get away from me next time.”

“Don’t use any force and scare him,” directed
Dave. “Tell him that I guess who he is, and
want to see him very much.”

“Very well. There’s Professor Leblance just
going into the aerodrome. Isn’t it famous what
he says about the <i>Albatross</i> being nearly finished
and just as perfect as money and skill could make
it.”

Both boys hurried their steps to overtake the
genial, accommodating Frenchman. For the time
being Dave’s recent visitor drifted from his
mind.

The past two weeks had been the busiest and
most engrossing in all the career of the young
airman. Dave’s report on the Davidson balloon
and the drawing of it he had showed to Leblance
had convinced the expert that the <i>Dictator</i>
could not make even a start in the race across the
Atlantic.

Dave had told him the gas bag of the <i>Dictator</i>
was conspicuously made of tri-colored fabric.
Its promoter, Davidson, had made a great claim.
The propelling power of the <i>Dictator</i>, he declared,
would be built on the monoplane principle. When
traveling the gas bag would collapse, except when
they wanted to float. A gas-generating machine
was among the adjuncts of the hull, and was
placed just above the framework attaching the
airplanes to the balloon.
.bn 083.png
.pn +1

“It is nonsense, ridiculous,” insisted Leblance,
over and over again. “They are inviting sure
death if they venture a hundred miles away from
land.”

“All the same, they are going to try it,” proclaimed
Hiram, a week later, holding up a newspaper.
“Here is a great account of the machine
and the plans, and Davidson and Jerry Dawson,
who are going to fly the <i>Dictator</i>.”

These two latter individuals did not trouble
the <i>Albatross</i> people any further. A constant
guard, however, was kept on duty in the aerodrome.
There were a great many curious and interested
visitors. Day by day the giant airship
approached completion. Now, as Hiram had announced,
it was practically ready to essay its initial
flight.

Professor Leblance smiled indulgently at them,
as with considerable professional pride he walked
around the mammoth structure his skill and efficiency
had devised. Dave never tired of surveying
the splendid machine. To him it was a marvel
how Leblance had assembled the parts of the airship
so speedily. There were three engines, and
from the wooden ribs and metal bracing, socketed
to withstand collisions, to the passenger cabin almost
as sumptuously furnished as a Pullman
palace car, every detail fitted into a mammoth
scheme never before attempted in aeronautics.
.bn 084.png
.pn +1

“The <i>Albatross</i> will do what no aeroplane
could accomplish,” said Leblance to his companions,
who were admiringly regarding the great
machine.

“What is that, Mr. Leblance?” inquired the
young aviator.

“It can be perfectly handled in a storm exceeding
thirty-five miles an hour velocity. It is as
much of a ship as any that can travel the ocean.
An iron ship is sustained on the water by the air
inside of her hull, air being eight hundred times
lighter than water. The <i>Albatross</i> will be sustained
in the air by hydrogen gas, which is sixteen
times lighter than air.”

“And sixteen to one is as good as unlimited to
one,” remarked Dave, who had been studying
aeronautics.

“That’s it. The <i>Albatross</i> is a ship sustained
by displacing more than its own weight on the air.
Its gas chambers are inflated to about three-fourths
of their capacity, to allow for the full expansion
of gas after the ship has been driven up
dynamically by the action of the engines and propellers,
the flat top and under surface of the hull
acting as an aeroplane.”
.bn 085.png
.pn +1

The <i>Albatross</i> was a flexible gas bag, just like
the ordinary drifting balloon, except that in shape
it was long and pointed, instead of round. Otherwise,
Leblance explained, it could not be driven
through the air. The gas was contained in
twenty-two separate chambers inside of the rigid
hull, which performed the same functions as the
air-tight compartments inside an ocean liner.

“It will sink only if it leaks badly,” explained
Leblance. “The sustaining compartments are
always closed. Even if several compartments
should burst, the loss of the lift is compensated
by the aeroplane action of the hull whenever
driven at full speed. When thus driven it burns
its own fuel so rapidly that this, acting the same
as the casting of ballast, is continuously lightening
the ship. This is what is called balancing the ship.
The air balloonets maintain the rigidity of the bag
whenever it loses gas through the action of the
sun or change in elevation. The breeze passing
through the ventilators at the bow prevents the
gas from expanding on the hottest days of the
year. I tell you confidently, my young friends,
to my mind the <i>Albatross</i> is practically unsinkable.”

Neither Dave nor Hiram had thus far been inside
the cabin and other living apartments of the
<i>Albatross</i>. They had, however, watched their
construction. The big airship could carry
twenty passengers, if necessary, and in providing
for the comfort of those making the first
.bn 086.png
.pn +1
trip no detail for their welfare had been overlooked.
There were washrooms, provision apartments,
a cook’s galley; and the engineer’s quarters,
Leblance explained, would be perfect in appointment
and equipment. The main point he had
striven for was to maintain absolute control of
the gas at all times. As this depended upon reliable
engines, motors had been built that ran for
thirty-six hours at full speed. The machinery
could not break down, as every part had been
duplicated.

“That means,” said Leblance, “that if the
carburetor gets out of order, a duplicate enables
it to go right on working. The engine has a
great number of automatic devices, among them
two pumps which force the fuel to exactly the
right places, even if the ship is standing on its
beam ends, running up into the air or coming down
at an angle of forty-five degrees. You won’t
have to sit sandwiched in small quarters, my
young friends. You can walk up and down the
cabin and go all over the ship, without disturbing
the balance of the huge float overhead. To-morrow
the last touch will be put on the engine, and
then practically we will be all ready.”

Hiram went down to the post-office for the
mail after supper that day. Mr. King and his
party were downstairs in the living room of the
boarding house, entertaining two airmen who had
come to Croydon to look over the <i>Albatross</i> that
afternoon, when Hiram returned.
.bn 087.png
.pn +1

The young aviator’s impetuous assistant burst
unceremoniously in upon the group, stumbled over
a rug and went flat, but flushed and breathless
tossed the evening newspaper to Mr. King.

“Read, read!” panted the excited lad.

“Why, what’s all this commotion, Hiram?”
questioned the astonished veteran airman.

“It’s all in—the paper,” gasped Hiram in
jerks. “The <i>Dictator</i>—has—got—ahead of us.”

“What’s that!” fairly shouted Mr. Dale,
springing to his feet.

“Yes,” declared Hiram. “The <i>Dictator</i>
started from Senca this afternoon—on her trip
across the Atlantic!”
.bn 088.png
.pn +1
.pm chap X "THE HAUNTED AERODROME"
The excitable Leblance was on his feet in an
instant. Dave reached the side of Mr. King and
glanced quickly at the paper he had opened out.

“Impossible—so poorly equipped! Incredible—so
quickly!” almost shouted the Frenchman.

“The <i>Dictator</i> has sailed, just the same,” announced
the veteran airman, conclusively. “I’ll
read it to you.”

Every word of the article in the newspaper was
taken in absorbedly by the persons in the room.
According to it, the <i>Dictator</i> had made a splendid
ascent from Senca at two o’clock that afternoon.
The red, white and blue appearance of the great
gas bag had evoked the most patriotic enthusiasm,
and cheers and flag-waving had accompanied
the flight.

The <i>Dictator</i>, according to the report, would
float southward overland till a point near Baltimore
was reached. Here a descent would be
.bn 089.png
.pn +1
made to learn its condition, the machinery carefully
scanned, and the ocean course begun. Then
followed an interview given out by Davidson on
the superiority of his double monoplane apparatus.
There was, too, a portrait of Davidson
and one of Jerry Dawson. The article wound up
with a reference to the <i>Albatross</i>, which it stated,
would soon be hot on the heels of the <i>Dictator</i>.

“They have got the lead,” observed Mr. Dale,
in an anxious tone, the one of the group most
disquieted by the newspaper article.

Professor Leblance shrugged his shoulders.
He waved his hand to express ridicule. His long,
waxed mustache curled up in disdain.

“It is absurd,” he said. “Do I not know?
An egg shell like that—no science, 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 its
end Leblance hurried from the house. Mr. King
returned to his friends with 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 <i>Dictator</i>, it seems certain
that the craft has made a start. Leblance
has gone to set his men at night work. The <i>Albatross</i>
must be gotten in trim for its flight within
forty-eight hours.”
.bn 090.png
.pn +1

“As quickly as that!” exclaimed Dave.

“Leblance assures me he will have the <i>Albatross</i>
all ready for its flight by day after to-morrow,”
said the airman. “Make preparations, my
friends. 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
<i>Albatross</i> the right send-off,” one of them declared.

The airman saw the visitors to the door. When
he returned he snatched up his 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, and perhaps we can help.”

“Count me in,” said the old man, cheerily, “although
I haven’t been very useful so far outside
of gaping at the wonderful work of our gifted
friend, Leblance.”

“Day after to-morrow is the twenty-first,”
spoke up Grimshaw. “Two days’ start for the
<i>Dictator</i> crowd.”

The group left the boarding house. They
crossed the street and walked along the fence of
the aerodrome enclosure. Dave and Hiram were
.bn 091.png
.pn +1
in the lead. They were chatting animatedly as
they turned the corner of the building, when Dave
was thrust violently to the side and Hiram was
knocked head over heels to the street.

A frenzied yell accompanied the collision with
them of a wild, scurrying form, which recoiled at
the unexpected impact, a hat bobbing from its
head.

“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 for breath, he fell
against the wall of the building from sheer weakness.

“Here, brace up,” ordered the aviator, seizing
the arms of the fellow and 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 that what you’re trying to
say?”

“Yes.”

“Nonsense! Here, Grimshaw, help me get
this fellow back to his post of duty.”
.bn 092.png
.pn +1

Between them they forced the man along the
walk. He gurgled, quaked, and held back as they
neared the gates of the enclosure. They found
these locked, 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 it out!”

“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 on
the electric lights. The watchman sank to a chair
and crouched as he directed 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 fly into a tantrum like this
over nothing.”

“Nothing!” fairly bellowed the watchman.
“I saw it plain as the nose on my face. See here,
I had the door ajar about a foot to let in a little
of the cool evening air. Here I sat in my chair
right near it. I must have half snoozed and woke
up suddenly. Not five feet away, right near that
oil tank yonder, was a horrible shape. It was all
white and unearthly. As I started up it let out an
unearthly scream and waved its arms. Say, it
was curdling! I bolted for the door, locked it,
and scooted.”
.bn 093.png
.pn +1

“Yes, you scooted all right,” grumbled Hiram,
rubbing a bump on his head.

Mr. King, with a glance of impatience at the
great booby of a watchman, proceeded briskly the
length of the building, peering into every odd
nook and corner. When he came back he held
in his hand a long cotton sheet that had been used
to cover some of the machinery.

“That is what you saw,” he declared. “Somebody
has been playing a trick on you.”

“Why, how could that be,” chattered the
watchman, “seeing nobody was in the building
but me?”

“How do you know that?” demanded the
aviator; “when you say you had the door open?
I tell you some one slipped in, wrapped in the
sheet, and half scared the life out of you.”

“Then he must be here now,” insisted the
watchman, “for when I bolted I locked 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?”
.bn 094.png
.pn +1

“Gone! It was right here near my chair. It’s
been taken.”

Dave had followed the progress of the incident
of the hour with curiosity, 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 is straight some one really
was here?”

“And if the door was locked when the watchman
ran away he couldn’t very well get out.”

“Exactly.”

The two lads made more than one tour of the
length and breadth of the place. Their quest
proved a vain one. There was no one hiding
about the aerodrome, as far as they could discover.

“We’ll have to give it up,” said Hiram at last,
“although it’s something of a mystery.”

It was, indeed, but a mystery soon to be explained
in a startling way to the young aviators.
.bn 095.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XI "A GRAND SUCCESS"
“All ready!”

Robert King, seated in the pilot room of the
<i>Albatross</i>, spoke the words through a tube at his
side connecting with the cabin.

Dave Dashaway stood beside him, and behind
the young aviator was Hiram Dobbs. It was the
most impressive moment in all the boys’ lives.
Well might it be, for the next movement of the
expert airman meant the start of the giant airship
on a cruise but once before attempted by
mortal man.

Before the skilled sky rider was a great sheet
of glass punctured with knobs of metal. Each
bore a number. From practice, these indices to
guiding detail were as familiar to Mr. King as an
alphabet to a schoolboy. The operator was so
intent upon his work that his hand trembled, his
eyes were glued to the pilot board, and his face
was quite pale. Dave stood with every nerve tense
and strained. Hiram fairly held his breath.
.bn 096.png
.pn +1
There was a grind and a sway as Mr. King
touched a particular button. The huge gas bag
lifted its prow from the ground, then its body
cleared all earth of contact, and the next instant
was stretched out on an angle of forty-five degrees.

“We’re started!” breathed Dave.

“It’s grand!” pronounced Hiram, in a gasp.

Both edged towards the open window. A
dizzying panorama greeted their sight.

The old factory was a wreck. One entire sidewall
and parts of the front and rear walls had
been torn out of place that morning, to allow for
the exit to level ground of the <i>Albatross</i>. Outside
of the enclosure over a thousand persons were
gathered. A band was playing, the crowd was
cheering, and from a neighboring roof a group
of reporters and a dozen airmen, friends of Mr.
King, joined in the tumult, waving hats, flags and
handkerchiefs.

The <i>Albatross</i> behaved splendidly. There was
not a jar as it ended a mile ascent in exactly five
minutes. Then, as the vast machine balanced to
its natural position, it began a straight, even glide
so graceful and buoyant that it imparted a positive
thrill to the passengers.

“Say, it’s glorious!” burst out the irrepressible
Hiram, “I feel as if I had been taking laughing
gas!”
.bn 097.png
.pn +1

Dave resumed his position near his friend and
patron, Mr. King. For the present he was to
take no active part in running the <i>Albatross</i>. He
had, however, sat up half the night listening to
the arrangements mapped out by Professor Leblance.
He realized, too, that as soon as he
learned all that the aviator had acquired he was
to relieve him. There was not a movement made
by the skilled hand of the airman that Dave did
not memorize. He had accompanied the professor
in a tour all over the craft two hours before
starting, and had been amazed at the simplicity
of the construction as a whole. He was lost in
admiration as he realized what a perfect mechanism
controlled the giant airship.

The Frenchman had four skilled airship men
under his orders. They had been trained to their
duties in Germany and France. Each knew what
was required of him, and each understood that,
while they appeared to act as automatons, a single
miss in the programme might end their career in
mid-air, or in the ocean depths.

Outside of these men, who performed engineering
duties solely, a young and enthusiastic
Pole named Vacla assisted the professor in the
actual control of the craft. In the pilot room Mr.
King directed the course of the <i>Albatross</i> by
electric signals, or word of mouth through the
speaking tube.
.bn 098.png
.pn +1

Passages ran past the cased-in balloonets to
every part of the airship. In the direct center of
the craft and above the airplanes and float attachments
was the roomy cabin. Two persons,
both foreigners, the cook and the cabin attendant,
had this department in charge. The cabin had
rows of windows on both sides, and was furnished
comfortably and even elegantly. Seated at one of
the windows, a passenger had a perfect view as
far as the eye could reach.

Hiram found his way to the cabin, to come upon
Mr. Dale and Grimshaw viewing the fast-receding
earth. The good hearted old gentleman,
who had financed the proposition almost solely
on Dave’s account, was chuckling, with his fat
comfortable face crossed with a great smile of
delight. Grimshaw seemed more contented and
spirited than Hiram had ever seen him before.

“We’ve made a famous start,” burst out
Hiram, waving his hand in glee.

“That’s pleasant,” beamed Mr. Dale.

“And Mr. King says we’re going to keep it
up.”

“That’s natural,” joined in Grimshaw.

“Everything has been provided for, and we’re
going ahead slick as grease.”

“That’s evident,” chuckled Mr. Dale.

“And we’re going to cross the Atlantic first!”
boasted the excited young airman.
.bn 099.png
.pn +1

“That’s all!” roared Grimshaw—“all worth
working for and waiting for. I’ve dreamed it for
ten years. Now—hooray!”

In about half an hour Professor Leblance, Mr.
King and Dave came into the cabin. The Frenchman’s
eyes were shining with half-suppressed
excitement and satisfaction. Mr. Dale rushed at
him and grasped his hand fervently.

“My friend,” he said, “you’ve proven a genius,
a wonder! Hold out as you have begun, and I
double the fee originally agreed upon.”

“Ah, sir,” replied the gifted engineer, “let me
but see the land on the other side—then, undying
fame! I ask no more.”

“See here,” broke in the ever-active and restless
Hiram, “is this all we’ve got to do—sit here and
let her drift?”

“About that, for the present,” returned Mr.
King.

“Remember, we are still over land,” reminded
the professor. “It is calm and fair. It is a
pleasant beginning. When we get over the
ocean——”

The Frenchman here shrugged his shoulders
expressively, as if he thought it no child’s play
ahead.

“Then,” added Mr. King, “every man must
do his duty as on a ship in stress of weather.”
.bn 100.png
.pn +1

“The orders are for four hours drifting,” explained
Professor Leblance. “About nightfall
we will have reached what we call the approximate
air current. The right air course is just as established
as the ocean roads, and we aim to follow it
in our voyage.”

“And now, my friends,” came from Mr. Dale.
“I have something more to say about this wonderful
airship.”

All eyes were at once turned on the rich gentleman
who had made it possible to construct the
<i>Albatross</i>.

“Years ago Dave Dashaway’s father and I
were chums. He did me many a good turn. That
is why I have taken such an interest in my young
friend here. Now that this giant airship is an
accomplished fact, I wish to make it known to
all of you that I have had it built on his account——”

“Oh, Mr. Dale!” interrupted our hero.

“It is true, my boy, and from this moment on
I wish the <i>Albatross</i> to be known as Dave Dashaway’s
airship,” went on the rich gentleman.

“Hooray!” cried Hiram and Grimshaw, in
unison.

“My airship?” cried Dave.

“Yes, my boy, your airship,” answered Mr.
Dale. “And may she win her way across the Atlantic
without a mishap.”
.bn 101.png
.pn +1

“Amen to that,” put in Mr. King. “Dave,
my warmest congratulations,” and he held out his
hand.

Dave was so overcome he could scarcely speak.
But at last he thanked Mr. Dale heartily for his
great kindness. The thought that the giant airship
had been turned over to him filled his heart with
new enthusiasm.

“I’ll do my best to make a success of the trip,”
he said, in a voice filled with emotion.

“I know you will—I bank on you, my boy,” answered
Mr. Dale.

They circled out toward the water for a few
miles, to ascertain the strength of some of the
ocean currents of air, and as they were turning
inward again Dave cried out:

“Look, there’s a seagull trying to race with
us, I do believe!” He pointed upward and
there, in the air above them and off to one side,
was one of the graceful birds.

“That’s what it is!” exclaimed Mr. Dale.
“And that reminds me of something I must do to
oblige a friend. But first let us watch that seagull.”

All eyes were now turned toward it. The swift
bird seemed to realize that one of its own kind,
or, more properly, a rival, was disputing the element
so long unconquerable by man. The seagull
would approach the giant airship as if to ascertain
what it wanted in the upper regions, to learn its
.bn 102.png
.pn +1
speed and power. Then, as if alarmed at the
noise of the propeller, or perhaps some of the
odors of the escaping gas, the bird would veer off,
only to return.

“Look!” cried Dave again. “It’s going to
see how much faster it can go than we do. It’s
trying to double on us, I declare!”

And that is exactly what the seagull did. Darting
ahead it swung around a good distance in front
of the airship, and then, as if to prove how puny
was man, compared to nature, the bird darted
straight back toward the craft.

“He’s going to ram us—he’ll be killed, sure!”
yelled Mr. King.

“No, he’s going to one side,” declared Mr.
Dale.

And that is what the bird did! Like an arrow
it shot along the side of the <i>Albatross</i>, almost
brushing the gas bags with its wing tips. To the
rear swung the big bird. Its purpose was now
plain. It was going to circle the airship.

“Two can play at that game!” cried Dave.
“Let’s put on all speed! Can we beat the seagull?”

“We certainly can,” said Mr. King, in a quiet
voice. He walked over to some of the signal buttons
and pushed them. The effect was at once
apparent. There was an increased tremor
through the whole craft. It darted ahead and
.bn 103.png
.pn +1
cleaved the air as it had never done before. Once
more Mr. King pressed a small lever. Again the
trembling of the craft increased as if she would
shake apart. But she was staunchly built.

“Can you see the gull?” demanded Mr. Dale.

“Yes, here he comes!” cried Dave. “He’s been
to the stern, rounded it, and here he comes up
alongside like the wind. He’s trying to pass us!”

“But he never will,” spoke Mr. King. “Here
goes for the final test. Perhaps it’s foolish to
use our greatest speed on a new motor before it’s
been warmed up and run longer than this has, but
we might as well know first as last just what the
<i>Albatross</i> will do. Now for the test!”

He pressed a button that communicated with
the motor room, and there came such a vibration
to the craft that one and all, who were not aware
of the reserve power, looked at one another in
some alarm.

“How about it, Dave?” inquired Mr. King.
“Are we holding our own?”

“Yes! Yes!” eagerly answered the young
aviator. “The gull is straining every wing
feather, but he’s falling back. Look, no he’s
even with us now! He’s going ahead—see—see!”

Was the <i>Albatross</i>, after all, to be beaten?
.bn 104.png
.pn +1

The gull was now flying alongside in such a
position as to be visible to all. Clearly the bird
was exerting every last ounce of strength. Its
wings were wildly beating the air, and its slender
head and hooked bill were stretched out like the
prow of some slave-galley—cutting the air.

“It’s falling back—it’s falling back—we win!”
cried Dave exultantly.

It was so. The gull, unable to keep up the
terrific speed, was losing ground. The airship
kept on, its awful power forcing it forward.
Foot by foot the bird fell back until like some express
train passing a slow freight, the <i>Albatross</i>
shot ahead of the weary bird, and the creature,
as if humiliated by the test, folded its wings and
dropped downward like a shot, in order to rest.
Then spreading wide its pinions again, it floated in
the air, far below the rival craft.

“We sure did go!” cried Dave in triumph, as
some of the terrific power was cut down. “But
what was it you said you wanted to do, Mr. Dale—something
that the sight of the gull reminded
you about?”

“Oh, yes. Well, it’s nothing more or less than
to release a carrier pigeon I have on board.”

“A carrier pigeon?” cried several.

“Yes, a friend of mine, who is interested in
aeronautics, and who published a magazine about
them, asked me to do this for him. He gave me
a carrier pigeon a few days ago, and requested
me to release it on our trial trip. I said I would,
.bn 105.png
.pn +1
and now I am going to send him a message of our
success. The bird will fly directly to his coop,
and later, when I give him the time we liberated
it, and he notes the time of arrival, he can figure
the speed.”

“Good!” cried Dave. “Where is the pigeon?”

It was brought out in the basket where it had
been held captive, and Mr. Dale, who understood
such matters, prepared a short message on thin
paper. The paper was put in a quill, sealed at
both ends, and then tied by silk thread to one of
the pigeon’s wings.

The bird was taken to the deck of the craft and
liberated. It soared high in the air, circled about
once or twice and, then even in that void, seeming
to get its bearings, it darted off to the south.

“Later we will learn how my friend received
the message,” said Mr. Dale. “And now I
think we had better change our course.”

The <i>Albatross</i> lined the coast a few miles to
the interior. Until dusk Dave and the others
viewed a constantly changing panorama. Then
there was supper, a bountiful meal, well prepared,
and immensely relished by all hands.

After that lights were set, the big headlights,
front and rear, sending out far-reaching shafts of
radiance that must have appeared to uninitiated
landsmen as streaming meteors.
.bn 106.png
.pn +1

Mr. King was in the cabin when the electric
call bell took him to the speaking tube. He
dropped it as if some important message called
him instantly to the pilot room.

His manner and face indicated to the young
aviator that whatever message he had received
had urged him to seriousness and haste.

“Something’s up; eh, Dave?” shot out Hiram,
as the airman hurried from the cabin.

“It looks that way,” assented Dave. “I
wonder what?”
.bn 107.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XII "ADRIFT IN THE STORM"
The two young aviators, alive to every motion
of the <i>Albatross</i> and the movements of its operators,
sat together on one of the observation
benches.

“I don’t see any change in our course,” remarked
Hiram, glancing from the window.

“Neither do I,” said Dave. “There’s a flash,
though.”

“Yes, I saw it,” spoke Hiram, quickly. “Lightning,
wasn’t it?”

“I think so. In fact, I am sure of it. Yes, it
has all clouded up.”

“And a wind coming,” added Hiram. “What
is it, Mr. Grimshaw?” he questioned, as there
was a ring at the tube hook.

“Orders to close everything up fast and tight,”
reported the veteran aeronaut.

“Then there’s a storm coming, sure enough,”
said Hiram.
.bn 108.png
.pn +1

Even before they had all the windows closed
a change of atmosphere was noticeable. A blast
of wind roared around the giant airship.

“Of course, this isn’t serious,” observed
Hiram.

“Oh, I think not,” rejoined the young aviator.

“If the <i>Albatross</i> can’t weather a little land
zephyr, she’s no good over the ocean.”

“Mr. King is simply taking all precautions,”
said Dave.

“Whew! did you feel that!”

There was a whirl that made the young airmen
think of their past experience in striking an
air pocket when aboard their monoplane.

Bang! went a pitcher of water from the table
in the center of the cabin.

“We’re tipping,” exclaimed Hiram.

“Yes, upwards,” said Grimshaw.

“Trying to strike a calmer upper current, I
fancy,” suggested Mr. Dale.

Hiram made his way to a window and tried to
peer out. The rain was beating in rattling
dashes against the thick panes.

“Say,” he reported, “if you want to see a sea
of black ink, come here.”

“I call it a blaze of dazzling light,” submitted
Grimshaw, as there was a vivid flash of
lightning, followed by a tremendous crack of
thunder.
.bn 109.png
.pn +1

“It’s all below us now,” reported Hiram, a few
minutes later.

“We must be above the storm cloud, then,”
said Grimshaw.

“There’s some wind yet, I’m thinking,” observed
Mr. Dale.

There came a signal from the tube bell just
then. Grimshaw being nearest, took up the tube
and received the message.

“You, Dashaway,” he spoke in his quick,
laconic way.

“From Mr. King?”

“Yes.”

“All right.”

The young aviator left the cabin at once. All
over the hull of the great airship was an electric
light system. The lamps were placed at intervals
along the passages, and Dave found no difficulty
in threading them. He arrived at the pilot room
to find Mr. King at the glass table and Professor
Leblance holding his hand out through a small
porthole, the inside glass shield of which was
thrown back.

The airman looked serious and occupied with
the various buttons on the table. The Frenchman’s
face wore a somewhat anxious look.

He drew in his arm. As he did so Dave observed
that his hand held a little meteorological
instrument he had noticed before. It was a
barometric contrivance. The professor held it up
to the light and scanned its surface closely.
.bn 110.png
.pn +1

“It won’t do at all,” he announced. “The index
is not broad enough to give exact conditions.”

“There is the aerometer, Professor,” suggested
Mr. King.

“Did I not tell you I found one of its tubes
shattered? Such carelessness! I would no more
start across the ocean without a perfect instrument
than without food.”

“Then it’s a stop?”

“Somewhere.”

“And a descent?”

“Of course.”

“When, and where?”

Professor Leblance indulged in his accustomed
shrug of the shoulders.

“I dare not descend, not knowing the exact
conditions below, as I stated. We are on a fair
level.”

“Then why not continue till the situation
clears?”

“We can only run one way.”

“Yes, with the storm, but we are not leaving
the coast line to any appreciable degree.”

“That is true, but we may get too far south.”

“Oh, we can soon make that up. We will have
to land near some large city, I suppose, to get
what you want.”
.bn 111.png
.pn +1

“Not necessarily,” replied the Frenchman.
“All I need is some quicksilver. I have plenty
of surplus tubes.”

“Well, what is the programme?”

“Straight ahead, watching the wind gauge and
the grade guide.”

“Very good.”

“I will go to the engine room.”

“Come here, Dashaway,” ordered the expert
airman.

His junior assistant was prompt to gain the
side of his superior.

“You understand the guide?” inquired Mr.
King.

“It is on the same principle as the aeroplane
apparatus?”

“Yes.”

“Then—perfectly,” assented Dave.

“Watch it closely for variations, and the wind
record. If the mirror shows a deviation past the
fifteen mark, notify me.”

“And the wind?”

“Over fifty miles an hour is dangerous.”

“And we will have to descend?”

“Or ascend, that’s it.”

Dave seated himself in a chair at one end of
the table. The guide, a delicately adjusted instrument,
recorded every variation in the progress
of the airship. The wind gauge was connected
by wires with a vane on top of the gas
bag.
.bn 112.png
.pn +1

Dave turned to his duty with interest and carefulness.
His monoplane experience stood him in
good stead. He felt a great deal of satisfaction
in realizing that he was actually sharing in operating
the <i>Albatross</i>, and in addition to that learning
something practical and of value.

Inside of five minutes he had mastered the requirements
of the occasion and was working in
entire harmony with the airman.

For over three hours the <i>Albatross</i> was kept
on as perfectly straight a course as could be
mapped out.

“We seem to have encountered a heavy southwest
storm of great extent,” Mr. King told him.

“Have we got to pass over its entire length
before we land?” asked the young aviator.

“Professor Leblance thinks that plan best,” replied
Mr. King.

It must have been nearly midnight when the
Frenchman came back from the engine room.

“Superb!” was his first commendatory word.
“The <i>Albatross</i> does not seem to have strained a
seam. I must congratulate you both.”

The airman smiled pleasantly at this praise and
Dave bowed modestly. The professor again
took the barometric readings.
.bn 113.png
.pn +1

“I think we have hit the tail of the wind,” he
announced a few minutes later. “As soon as we
are sure of it, we will make a descent.”

“What’s that?” suddenly called out the young
aviator.

Boom! A great shock traversed the airship!

Boom—boom—twice in succession there followed
a muffled bang, and it was apparent that the
sounds were caused by some trouble in the airship.

Professor Leblance rushed from the room.
.bn 114.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XIII "A FIRST LANDING"
The young aviator was not unused to “thrills”
in his professional experience. He noted no deviation
in the straight progress of the <i>Albatross</i>.
Mr. King did not distract attention from the signal
plate. Still Dave awaited some explanation
of the detonation with curiosity and anxiety.

“It’s all right,” reported Professor Leblance,
reappearing a few minutes later.

“Explosions?” questioned the airman, simply.

“Yes. Three of the balloonets blew up.”

“Which means?”

“Nothing,” replied the Frenchman, with his
accustomed shrug of the shoulders. “We must
have struck a warm current. Ah, yes, that is
true,” he added, as he made the thermometer test.
“You see, the sudden transition from cold caused
an expansion and affected the balloonets.”

“Does that weaken the lifting force, Professor?”
inquired Dave.
.bn 115.png
.pn +1

“Not perceptibly. I count on such accidents,
more or less. I can duplicate the balloonets, and
as to the gas—we have arranged for all necessary
replenishment in that direction. Mr. King, everything
is favorable for a descent.”

“All right,” replied the airman. “Have you
any idea where we are?”

“I should say, south of Washington.”

“In Virginia, then?”

“Or still farther south. I have measured the
distance covered since our start, but I do not know
how far we are inland.”

Mr. King left Dave in charge of the signal
table for a few moments. He went to the lookout,
meantime instructing the young aviator as to
what buttons he should operate. This brought
the <i>Albatross</i> on a lateral slant. The enormous
headlight at the prow of the airship cast a glow
far below. Mr. King was able to trace outlines
on the landscape. He returned to the pilot table,
and following his directions there were many
changes made in the course of the giant airship
during the next half hour.

Once more the aviator consulted the lookout.
Then, back again at his post, he ordered a slow-up
and a gentle, gradual drop.

“Landed,” breathed Dave at last, intensely interested
in all the gentle and natural movements
of the descent.

.bn 116.png
.pn +1
“Yes, and that was certainly easy,” replied his
patron, with a sigh of relief and satisfaction
“The professor understands his business.”

The Frenchman soon appeared, followed by
two of his assistants. The aviator and Dave accompanied
him to the cabin.

“You people had better go to bed,” he directed
all hands. “My men will attend to securing the
machine safe and sound. We can do nothing now
until morning.”

This order was obeyed. Dave and Hiram had
what might be called a stateroom to themselves.
It was narrow, but cozy. It had a window opening,
and there the young aviator posted himself
for some time.

By the aid of the headlights Dave could make
out Leblance and his men securing the <i>Albatross</i>.
The craft seemed to have landed on flat land
rather bare of verdure and with no trees.

“An ideal spot for landing,” Dave reported to
his comrade.

“Yes, but where are we?” questioned Hiram.

“In some wild mountain district, I should say,”
responded Dave—“maybe Virginia, maybe North
Carolina.”

“Well, it has been a dandy cruise,” declared
Hiram. “Say, I’ve gone through so much excitement
I don’t believe I can sleep a wink.”

.bn 117.png
.pn +1
“Try it, anyhow,” recommended Dave.
“There may be a lot to do in the morning, and
we want to be rested and strong to take our share
in it.”

How long he rested Dave Dashaway did not
know, but he was suddenly awakened by feeling
the <i>Albatross</i> moving. At first he imagined that
he must be dreaming, for certainly he did not think
they would start off again after making a landing
with such trouble.

“But she sure is moving,” decided the lad,
“though not in the air, if my senses are good for
anything. That is unless we’re bumping along a
cloud bank.”

He sat up in his berth, and could make out a
dim light in the room beyond. He listened and
heard Hiram breathing heavily.

“He’s fast asleep, anyhow,” decided the young
aviator. “It takes a good deal to disturb him.
But we sure are moving. I wonder——?”

Such a strange thought came to him that he
hesitated to put it into form. But he decided to
reason it out.

“Can it be?” he mused, “that I have slept
through a whole night and day without knowing
it, and that we are on the move again. Can anything
have happened—to me—or the others?
Have—I been unconscious—hurt—and not have
known what has happened? It doesn’t seem possible,
and yet——”
.bn 118.png
.pn +1

His self-communing was interrupted by a more
violent motion of the airship. It seemed to careen
to one side, and then right itself. Dave
found himself clutching the sides of his bunk.
Then came a period of calm.

“I’m going to wake Hiram up,” decided Dave.
“He may not like it, but I want to talk to some
one about this, and if he gets mad, in case it isn’t
anything, he can easily get to sleep again. And
that’s what I won’t do unless I find out what’s going
on.”

Dave cautiously got out of bed. As he did so
he again felt the lurch of the big craft. At the
same time he heard a voice speaking softly outside.

“By hickory!” came the tones. “I don’t
seem to be movin’ th’ ole shebang much. Guess
I’ll hev t’ go git another mule critter or two t’
snake it away. Whoa there!”

“What in the name of sweet spirits of nitre is
going on?” murmured Dave. “Is some one trying
to steal the <i>Albatross</i>?”

He crossed softly to look out of one of the windows,
but could see nothing. The big headlights
had been extinguished, and, save for some few
incandescents here and there, which were only
dimly glowing there was no illumination inside
the ship. It had been decided to make it dark so
all hands would sleep better.
.bn 119.png
.pn +1

“This is sure mysterious,” went on Dave. “I
can’t see anything, but I can hear, and I can—feel!”
he added a moment later, for again the
craft moved slightly.

Once more the young aviator peered out, but
he could discern nothing. The night was very
black.

“If I thought——” he began, when a sleepy
voice from the adjoining berth inquired:

“Whatsmatter, Dave? Time f’r brkfust?”

“Hiram! Hiram!” whispered Dave shrilly.
“Wake up! Something has happened—it’s happening
now!”

Instantly Hiram sat upright in his bed. He
was rather a slow chap, but on occasions could
move lively.

“What is it?” he inquired in a low voice.
“Burglars in here, Dave?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t.
Anyhow, I don’t think they’re in yet.”

“All right, then; wait until they do get in an’
we’ll nab ’em. Lay low!”

“That’s just what I don’t want to do,” replied
Dave. “Something may happen unless we get
busy. They may even get away with the <i>Albatross</i>.”

“Get away with the <i>Albatross</i>?” cried Hiram.
“What are you talking about, Dave? How can
they——?”
.bn 120.png
.pn +1

But he did not finish his sentence. At that moment
there came another lurch to the craft, and
it moved several feet.

“There!” hoarsely whispered Dave. “What
did I tell you?”

“Are we going up—a night flight?” asked
Hiram.

“I don’t know. I was awakened by the movement,
and it’s been going on ever since. Someone
is outside, that’s sure. Listen now!”

There was silence for a moment, and then a
cautious voice could be heard saying:

“I suah will have t’ done go an’ git another
mule critter t’ move this contraption. An’ I ain’t
got no mo’ of my own. I’ll have to borrow one
off Nate Jackson, an’ then he’ll want me t’ whack
up with him. Wa’al, there ain’t no help, fer as
I kin see!”

“There!” exclaimed Dave in triumph.

“It sure is strange,” said Hiram. “I guess
we’d better wake up the others. Mr. King and
Mr. Dale ought to know about this.”

But there was no need for the boys to awaken
their companions. The next moment there came
such a violent motion to the ship that not a sleeper
continued to slumber. With one accord they tumbled
out of their berths.

Then from without came a chorus of excited
shouts.

.bn 121.png
.pn +1
“Whoa, there! Consarn ye all, what d’ ye
mean by backin’ and fillin’ that a-way? Stand
still, pesky mule critters that ye be! Ye wouldn’t
pull this shebang when I wanted ye to, an’ now
ye’re tryin’ t’ run away with it. Whoa!”

“Who’s there?” cried Mr. King.

“What is going on?” demanded Mr. Dale.

“Something has happened!” shouted Professor
Leblance.

“That’s right!” agreed Dave, “and it’s going
on now.”

“Someone is trying to make off with the airship,”
added Hiram.

“Make off with the airship!” repeated the
professor. “Can it be——”

He did not finish, but in a moment he had
switched on a number of lights, including the two
big ones outside the craft. Then, as they looked
from the windows, they saw a strange sight.

An unkempt man, with a team of sorry-looking
mules, had fastened a rope to the <i>Albatross</i> and
was evidently trying to drag it away. He started
back in alarm at the sudden illumination, and
hastily began taking off the rope.

“Here! What are you trying to do?” cried
Mr. King, through an open window.

“Good land! Is there folks in this shebang!”
asked the mountaineer. “Land a’massy! I
thought it was a balloon that had come down.”
.bn 122.png
.pn +1

“And you were going to haul it away and
claim a reward, I suppose,” put in the professor,
beginning to understand the situation.

“That’s what I was, stranger” came the answer.
“But my mules wa’n’t strong enough. I
was goin’ arter another pair when yo’-all turned
up your kerosene lamps. She wouldn’t hardly
budge.”

“I should say not, with the way she is fastened,”
said the Frenchman. “But explain yourself,
monsieur.”

“That ain’t my name, but it don’t much matter,”
came the answer. “I was on my way home
from th’ settlement, with a load of stuff t’ keep
my wife an’ kids in bacon an’ flour, when I seen
ye come down last evenin’. I once went t’ a
county fair, an’ they had a balloon assent. Th’
perfesser offered five dollars t’ whoever’d git his
balloon arter he jumped out of it, an’ she drifted
away.”

“Nate Jackson was th’ lucky man, an’ he found
th’ balloon in Black Cedar swamp. He hauled
it t’ town an’ got his five. When I seen this contraption
come down, I just laid low, aimin’ t’ git
th’ reward. I s’posed you folks would all go
home until mornin’ anyhow. But ye didn’t. I
onhitched my mules arter dark, an’ got a rope
from my wagon, an’ tried t’ haul th’ balloon away.
But she wouldn’t haul. I’m mighty sorry if I
disturbed ye’ an’ I’ll travel on now. This is th’
.bn 123.png
.pn +1
most forsaken country I ever knowed, an’ it’s
hard t’ git money. I thought I saw an easy way
t’ make a five dollar bill.”

“It’s worth more than that to have our airship
let alone, my man,” said the professor.
“This is the kind of a balloon you never saw before.
Here are ten dollars for the wife and little
ones,” and he passed over a bill.

The man was overwhelmingly grateful and
apologized again for the trouble he had caused.
A hasty examination showed that he had not
damaged the craft any by his pulling and hauling,
and a little later he had disappeared in the darkness
with his “mule critters,” and soon the rumble
of his wagon over the road, that was hardly
more than a trail, came fainter and fainter to the
ears of the aviators.

“Well, that sure was a scare!” exclaimed
Dave, when quiet was once more restored.

“I should say yes!” agreed Hiram. “The
idea of trying to cart off the <i>Albatross</i>!”

“Well, his explanation was natural,” said the
professor. “These mountaineers, in this lonely
region, scarcely ever see money, I guess. But
now, boys, get to bed. We’ve got lots to do to-morrow.”

Everyone again retired after the lights had
again been turned low, and Dave and Hiram were
soon asleep again. It was two hours after daylight
when Grimshaw routed them out of their
berths.
.bn 124.png
.pn +1

“Come, get up here,” he ordered; “if you
don’t want to miss breakfast.”

“I certainly don’t,” announced the active
Hiram. “I’m hungry as a bear.”

“Well, there’s a capital meal waiting for you,”
observed the old aeronaut.

The boys found this true as they came in at
second table in the cabin. They hurried through
with the meal, for outside on the ground Mr. King
and the others were assembled. From their actions
the young aviator concluded that some active
discussion was in progress.

Exit from the cabin was made through a trap
door and a balancing ladder.

“Hurrah!” piped Hiram, as he reached the
ground. “Here’s a chance to stretch our legs
and breathe some fresh air.”

“Let’s see what is going on with the others,”
suggested Dave, and they approached the group
made up of Professor Leblance, Mr. King, Grimshaw
and Mr. Dale.

“We are evidently in some remote spot,” the
Frenchman was saying. “All the better that, for
we shall have no troublesome visitors. My men
can attend to the balloonet and some other needful
repairs while we send for that quicksilver.”

.bn 125.png
.pn +1
“Which means the location of the nearest
town?” submitted the airman. “There was so
much excitement last night I forgot to ask that
old mountaineer. But we must locate a store.”

“Exactly.”

“And that may be somewhat difficult.”

“Perhaps,” agreed the Frenchman, “but once
down in the valley yonder it is to be supposed
there are some tokens of civilization.”

“Who is to go?” inquired Mr. Dale.

“I think you had better entrust the matter to
me, Professor,” said the aviator. “Here, let one
of the boys—you, Dashaway—go with me.”

“I shall be glad,” said Dave, eagerly.

“Hold on,” broke in Hiram; “give me a show
too; won’t you, Mr. King?”

The aviator took a brief look at the earnest,
beseeching face of the willing and accommodating
young aeronaut, and smiled indulgently.

“Well, you two make a hardy, useful team, so
make it so, if you like.”

Arrangements were made for the departure at
once. It was understood that the <i>Albatross</i>
would remain at its present landing place until the
exploring party returned with the quicksilver, even
if they had to consume considerable time in locating
a town.

“I think we can make it and return by nightfall,”
said the airman. “Don’t worry, though,
if we are longer away.”
.bn 126.png
.pn +1

“No,” spoke the professor. “We can’t leave
till we get that quicksilver, no matter how long
it takes.”

A plentiful lunch, a compass, and a gun were
gotten ready by the cabin man. Then, waving
a cheery adieu to their friends, the airman and
the boys started down the mountain side.
.bn 127.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XIV "LOST"
“It’s no use, Dave.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve shouted ourselves hoarse, and in this
still air and the way we have kept up the hollering,
anyone could hear us five miles away, it seems to
me.”

“Then there is only one conclusion to arrive
at,” observed the young aviator quite seriously.

“What’s that, Dave?”

“We are lost.”

“I reckon you’re right,” assented Hiram ruefully,
dropping to the ground and reclining on the
grass.

His companion followed his example. It was
six o’clock in the afternoon, the sun was descending,
and at the end of ten hours spent in persistent
search of a town or settlement, this had been the
result of their hard travel and laborious investigations.
.bn 128.png
.pn +1

The trio who had left the <i>Albatross</i> had kept
together until about noon. Not a wagon track or
even a footpath had they come across, much less a
human habitation. The landscape seemed as wild
and untenanted as if it were a primeval wilderness.

“I hardly know what to do,” said the old aviator,
about the middle of the afternoon, as they
concluded a rest and a lunch.

“Yes, we may go on for miles and miles and
not run across a human being,” returned Hiram,
who was tired out.

“I have half a mind to return to the <i>Albatross</i>
while we are pretty sure to find our way,” remarked
Mr. King; “and advise that we make
an air flight for civilized territory.”

“We might try as far as the other side of that
big hill,” suggested Dave, pointing to a lofty
eminence in the distance.

“That may not be a bad idea,” replied Mr.
King. “See here, we’ll make a circuit. It can’t
be over a few miles. I’ll trail the valley this way;
you boys take the other direction, and we’ll meet
on the other side of the hill.”

“That’s a good arrangement,” declared
Hiram; and the divided journey was begun.

It proved a very unwise experiment, the way
things turned out. The circuit was not so easy to
follow as it had seemed. Pursuing a ravine and
its branches, at the end of three hours the boys
found themselves inextricably mixed up as to location
or direction, with so many hills in view that
they could not tell which was the one they had had
in view when they separated from the aviator.
.bn 129.png
.pn +1

“Yes,” observed Hiram now, looking rather
hopelessly about them; “we’re lost, that’s sure.”

“Then the thing is to find ourselves,” said
Dave, cheerily.

“Worst of all, Mr. King has got all the
lunch,” mourned Hiram. “See here, Dave, when
are you going to make a start from here?”

“Why, when we get rested we’ll press right
forward and get to a town or back to the <i>Albatross</i>.”

“That’s easily said; but not done.”

“Well, we can try; can’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

Hiram was out of sorts. His gloom somewhat
abated, however, and finally walking on, they came
across a big patch of wild raspberries. When, a
little later, Dave discovered a pecan tree, Hiram
quite recovered his spirits.

“I hardly hope to rejoin Mr. King,” said
Dave. “I think I can keep the general direction
of the <i>Albatross</i> in view. What I say is to brace
up and keep steadily ahead for a few hours, and
see if we don’t come across something encouraging.
There’s a full moon, you know. Besides,
at night we could make out lights at a distance.
You see, even if we fail, we can surely get back
to the airship.”
.bn 130.png
.pn +1

“Not if we lose our reckoning.”

“Yes, even then,” persisted Dave.

“How can we?”

“Why, I heard Professor Leblance tell Mr.
King that if we did not return by midnight, he
would have the big searchlight on the <i>Albatross</i>
at work.”

“That’s grand!” cried Hiram, bracing up
magically. “We can see the searchlight for a
good many miles, you know.”

The wayfarers threaded several tortuous valleys.
They reasoned that if they could get out
of the mountains they were sure to come upon
some little farm. It was near dusk when Hiram,
who was a little in advance of Dave, shouted
suddenly:

“Here’s something!”

“What is it?” questioned our hero, hurrying
up to where he stood.

His companion held up what looked like a broken
tree branch, only the bark had been peeled off
from it, and one end had evidently been fashioned
into a handle with a pocket knife.

“Someone driving live stock has been here—lately,
too,” declared Hiram, inspecting the whip.
“It broke, and he threw it away. Hold on. I
was long enough on a farm to trail a cattle track,
if there’s one around here. Yes, there is,” and
the speaker’s tone rose in volume as he bent over
and, running along, inspected the ground keenly.
.bn 131.png
.pn +1

“Found it?” asked the young aviator, pressing
close after his comrade.

“Yes. It’s plain enough, now. Come on,
Dave; we’re in luck, sure.”

They could now make out a beaten track, and
tell the irregularities in the ground made by the
trampling of many feet. The track finally ended
at the edge of a small stream.

“Here’s where they forded the brook,” explained
Hiram. “We’ll take off our shoes and
stockings and wade over.”

This they did. The opposite bank gained, they
saw through a fringe of bushes what looked like
a level field. They could hear occasional bleatings.

“Oh, say, we’re all right now,” declared the
sanguine Hiram.

They hurried on their shoes, eager to pursue
their investigations.

“The sheep are over yonder,” said Hiram,
pointing to a corner of the field. “We’re surely
near some farm now. I shouldn’t wonder if we
found some one guarding the sheep, too, for—hear
that!”

It was the echo of distant yelping and barking
to which Hiram called attention.

“Wolves?” asked Dave, guessing quickly.
.bn 132.png
.pn +1

“That’s what; I know them. Saw lots of them
when I was out West. Come ahead. We’re going
to find somebody right away, I’m sure.”

The boys now noticed a little knoll. The bleating
sounds seemed to echo from behind it. As they
started up the incline, Hiram grabbed his companion
in some affright and dismay, and both fell
back startled.

A sudden flash split the air. It started a sweep
in a perfect circle, like a revolving searchlight.
Its bright rays sent out a glare a hundred yards
from its base. Then, the circle complete, as suddenly
it died out.

“Now what do you think of that?” gasped the
bewildered Hiram. “Worse, and more of it!”

Bang!

From the same spot, just as abruptly, some gun
or cannon belched out a sheet of flame, followed
by a report that awoke the echoes for miles in
every direction.

Facing a mystery they could not explain, the two
young aviators stood staring mutely towards the
spot from which flash and report had so unaccountably
come.
.bn 133.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XV "“THE TERRIBLE MACGUFFINS”"
“Now what do you think of that?” challenged
Hiram, after a long spell of wondering silence.

“I don’t think it was intended for us,” responded
the young aviator.

“Why not?”

“Because that revolving light, or whatever it
is, flashed in every direction, and that firearm
wasn’t aimed towards us.”

“That’s so,” agreed Hiram. “But what was it
done for at all?”

“We had better try and find out,” suggested the
young aviator.

The boys waited for some little time, expecting
a renewal of the strange manifestations, but it
did not come. Then Dave led the way, creeping
up the incline. As they reached the top of the
knoll, they paused and looked about them.
Sheltered in a kind of a dip of the ground, they
could make out half a hundred sheep huddled together.
No human being was visible.
.bn 134.png
.pn +1

“There’s the contrivance that flashed and
fired,” announced Hiram, pointing to a small
raised platform at the edge of the knoll.

“I guess it is,” assented the young aviator; “go
slow, Hiram. No need to run any risks.”

Neither could refrain from satisfying his curiosity
as to the purpose of the device near to them.
As they neared it, proceeding cautiously, the
bright rays of the moon, just rising, showed clear
outlines of the platform and the object upon it.

“Hark—listen!” ordered Dave, suddenly.

As they waited a sharp tick—tick, regular and
prolonged, struck their hearing.

“It’s a clock,” declared Hiram. “Look there—seven
or eight gun barrels. And wires running
to that box. There’s clock works in it. See, the
light is still burning, but shut in with a cover.”

“That’s so,” nodded Dave, surprised and still
puzzled.

“Oh, say!” cried Hiram, suddenly, “I’ve
guessed out the whole scheme.”

“Have you?”

“I think so.”

“What is it?” asked the young aviator.

“Why, this is a contrivance for scaring away
wolves. It’s mighty cute, and it must be a smart
fellow who got it up. Don’t you see, probably
every hour the light flashes and one of those firearms
goes off. That would scare wolves good
and right.”
.bn 135.png
.pn +1

“I believe you have solved the problem,” said
Dave.

He was certain of it as they made a closer inspection
of the queer contrivance. Some backwood
genius had spent time and some money in
rigging up a wolf-scarer that kept up an alarm
and illumination through the night, serving as a
protection for the sheepfold.

“Of course there’s a house somewhere near,”
said Hiram, as they started from the spot.

“Yes, look there—a light!” cried Dave.

What looked like a candle or lamp in a window
showed at a little distance. The young adventurers
hurried along with a good deal of satisfaction.

They finally reached a roomy log cabin with a
barn behind it. As they passed around the house
they were unable to discover anybody about the
premises. They knocked and then hammered at
the front door. There was no response, and
Hiram shouted, but no one appeared. Walking
around the house, they could see through the uncurtained
windows into every room.

“There’s no one in the house, it seems,” said
the young aviator.

“Probably gone to some neighbor’s,” suggested
Hiram.

“What is that?” suddenly exclaimed Dave.

.bn 136.png
.pn +1
Towards the southeast a growing glare showed
in the sky. It increased in brightness each
moment.

“It’s a fire!” declared Dave.

“I think so, too. Let’s run for it,” spoke
Hiram.

They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile
when shots and then shouts rang out on the still
night air.

“Someone is running this way,” said Dave.

Against the radiance of the mingled fire glow
and the moonlight the boys saw a woman hurriedly
crossing a clear space beyond the trees.
She held a baby in her arms. A little girl she
clasped by the hand. The baby was crying, and
the woman, with many a fearful glance back of
her, was sobbing audibly.

She came directly towards the boys. Dave
stepped forward in her path. The woman drew
back with a shriek of alarm.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Dave.

“You do not belong to the raiders?” the
woman faltered, all in a tremble.

“What raiders?” asked Hiram.

“The MacGuffins—the terrible MacGuffins!”
almost wailed the woman.

“Who are they?”

“Don’t you know?” asked the woman, incredulously.

.bn 137.png
.pn +1
“We are strangers here, madam,” explained
the young airman. “What is the fire and what is
the trouble?”

“All our men are away—hiding from the officers
down at Brambly Fork,” said the woman.
“The MacGuffins have made a raid and are burning
us all out! They may kill us if they catch us.
Oh, sirs, help me get our little ones in hiding,”
she pleaded.

“To your home, do you mean?” inquired
Dave.

“Oh, no, no,” dissented the woman instantly.
“That is the worst place in the world to go to
just now. They will burn our house next.”

“They may not harm you,” suggested Dave.

“Yes, they will. My husband is the man they
hate the most. It’s an old quarrel between the
MacGuffins and our people. They will harm you,
too, if they catch you.”

“Why should they?” asked Hiram.

“Because no stranger is ever allowed in these
Carolina mountains. They are all moonshiners,
and will take you for detectives. They shot two
suspicious characters only a few days ago.”

“H’m,” remarked Hiram under his breath.
“We’re in a nice country!”

The young aviator comprehended the situation
at once. He had read and heard of these North
Carolina outlaws and their family feuds, sometimes
running through half a dozen generations.
.bn 138.png
.pn +1

“How can we help you?” he said to the
woman.

“It isn’t safe for us anywhere around here,”
she declared. “I must get to my husband.”

“At Brambly Fork, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s where he is, and his crowd.”

“Is it far from here?”

“About fifteen miles. He ought to know about
the MacGuffins, so as to drive them away before
they steal our cattle and crops. I can manage to
get along with the baby, but the little girl is ready
to drop down from tiredness. See, oh, hide! hide!
They are coming this way!”

Among the trees beyond the clearing the boys
could see men with torches and armed with rifles
coming in their direction.

“They are going to fire our house next!” cried
the woman, bursting into tears.

“I am afraid it would be foolish for us to try
and prevent them,” remarked Dave. “They are
armed and in a dangerous mood.”

“You would simply risk your lives.”

The young aviator snatched up the little girl
in his arms.

“Help the lady, Hiram,” he directed, “and
follow me.”
.bn 139.png
.pn +1

Dave led the way to a thick copse. The woman
told the little girl to keep perfectly quiet. In a
few minutes the men they had seen passed by without
discovering them.

“I must get to my husband at once,” said the
woman, eagerly, as soon as the horde of raiders
was out of sight and hearing.

“You can’t go alone,” observed Dave. “Here,
we will go with you. Take turns at carrying the
little girl, Hiram.”

The woman sobbed out her heartfelt gratitude.
Then Dave questioned her as to the
direction of Brambly Fork, and all were soon on
the way.

“This isn’t looking for Mr. King, Dave,” suggested
Hiram, after awhile.

“Mr. King will take care of himself, Hiram,”
replied the young aviator.

“Yes, but neither is this looking for a town
where we might get that quicksilver.”

“It’s on the way to it, isn’t it? When we get
to the place where this woman’s husband is, some
of the crowd can direct us to the nearest settlement,
that is sure.”

It was pretty hard traveling, after a day of
heavy tramping. The forlorn condition of the
woman, however, appealed to both the boys.

“We are very near Brambly Fork now,” spoke
the woman at the end of four hours, during which
time they had rested frequently. “Another turn
in the valley and we will be there.”
.bn 140.png
.pn +1

“Sure enough!” cried Hiram with animation.

They had come upon a spot well shut in on three
sides with trees. A big campfire was burning, and
near it were gathered a dozen or more men.
Their interest was centered on a man who stood
with his arms bound behind him.

“Why,” cried Dave, “it’s Mr. King!”
.bn 141.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XVI "IN FRIENDLY HANDS"
The young aviator did not delay for a single
instant. So precipitately did he start for the
group about the tree, that he fairly knocked
Hiram off his footing.

“The mischief!” gasped the latter, righting
himself and staring aghast at the scene a little distance
ahead of them.

“Stop! stop!” shouted Dave at the top of his
voice, as he dashed across the open stretch, and
momentarily came nearer and nearer to the men
who surrounded the airmen.

Dave had a right to be urgent, for two men
had seized hold of Mr. King as if to handle him
roughly.

Three rifles were aimed at Dave as he fearlessly
ran up to the group. One of the party, evidently
the leader, stared at our hero as he came
to a halt, with a suspicious and threatening scowl.

“Hello,” he challenged, “another one? Why,
strangers are getting thick as bees in swarming
time.”
.bn 142.png
.pn +1

“It’s another detective,” growled a man by his
side.

Dave faced the fierce-visaged, reckless-mannered
mob, all alive with anxiety and excitement.

“You must not harm that man,” he declared,
dauntlessly.

“Know him, do you?” inquired the leader,
with a sinister look.

“I should say I did. There’s some mistake.”

“Who is he?”

“He is Mr. Robert King, the great aviator.”

“H’m that’s what he said, but we don’t believe
him,” retorted the leader. “Look at that
badge on him.”

“Why, that is a trophy from an aero club,”
explained Dave. “Read what it says, and you’ll
see that I am telling the truth.”

“Say, sonny,” observed the man, with a derisive
laugh, “there ain’t any schoolhouses in this
district, and none of us know how to read. Now
then, who are you, and where did you come
from?”

“I am in the same line as Mr. King,” replied
Dave; “and I came from the spot where our airship
landed.”

“How did you find us?”

“Oh, yes,” said Dave, quickly. “I ran across
the MacGuffins. They were making a raid,
and——”
.bn 143.png
.pn +1

If the young aviator had thrown a firebrand
among the group he could not have caused more
excitement. At the mention of that dread name,
“the MacGuffins,” it seemed as though the men
before him uttered a fearful roar of hatred and
rage. The leader sprang forward and grasped
Dave’s arm.

“Don’t you fool me!” he shouted. “Where
did you run across the MacGuffins?”

“About fifteen miles north of here. They were
burning houses, and——”

Dave was interrupted by a cry. It proceeded
from the woman he and Hiram had helped. She
appeared now upon the scene carrying her babe,
and Hiram following with the little girl in his
arms.

“Jared!” cried the woman, and then Dave
knew that the leader of the outlaw band was her
husband. The man stared at her in bewilderment.

“Nance,” he spoke in a husky voice, “what
does it mean, you being here?”

“Oh, Jared, the MacGuffins!” she wailed.
“They have burned us out! If it wasn’t for these
two brave boys, we might all have been killed!
They hid us and helped me get here with the children.”

“You did this?” spoke the man in a choked-up
tone, turning to the young aviator. “And that
fellow is your friend?”
.bn 144.png
.pn +1

“Yes, sir.”

“Set him free,” ordered the man with a wave
of his hand towards Mr. King. “As to you,
young man, you’ve made some friends, let me tell
you.”

Dave and Hiram hurried eagerly to the spot
where two of the band began immediately to
liberate Mr. King, who had looked worn and
worried. A glad smile of relief now covered his
face.

“You came just in the nick of time,” he told
his two young friends.

“It looks so,” said Hiram, seriously.

“There’s a bad nest of them,” cautioned the
airman. “I never met such stubborn, unreasonable
beings. They seem to have two objects in
life—to fight each other and dodge revenue officers.”

“Regular outlaws, aren’t they?” queried
Hiram.

“Yes, and with little idea of the value of human
life.”

The band grouped together about the woman,
who was reciting the incidents of the raid of the
MacGuffins. Wild shouts and threats followed
her story. The party split up, and half of them
ran to a thicket, to reappear with horses.

At a word from the leader they set off in the
direction the refugees had just come from. Then
the man approached the airman and his companions.
.bn 145.png
.pn +1

“We’re rough fellows, maybe,” he said, “but
we stick like glue to a friend. You two young
fellows saved my Nance and the babies. There
isn’t much we fellows wouldn’t do for you in return.”

“Well, you can probably help us out a good
deal if you want to,” replied Dave promptly.

“Just name how, son.”

“Mr. King has told you how we are balloonists.
We need some quicksilver, and the three
of us had started out to locate some town where
we could get the article.”

“Quicksilver, eh?” repeated the outlaw, as
though dubious and puzzled. “Where would
you be likely to get it now?”

“Most hardware or drug stores keep it,” explained
Dave.

“Nothing else you need?”

“No, only to return to our balloon when we get
the quicksilver.”

“Hi!” shouted the man, beckoning to two of
his men. “Mount and make a quick run for
Forestville. How much quicksilver do you
want?”

“It comes in iron tubes,” explained the airman.
“One will answer. If they keep it in some
other form, about thirty ounces.”
.bn 146.png
.pn +1

“Get back soon as you can,” the outlaw
ordered his messengers. “If the places are shut,
shoot up the town and get some action on the
case.”

The speaker turned and proceeded to where a
tent stood. In a little while he reappeared to say
to his guests that they must be hungry and to follow
him.

Seated on rude home-made camp stools, the
three friends enjoyed a meal of corn pone, sweet
potatoes and wild turkey, all cooked to a turn.
Then their host threw some blankets on the
ground outside. He invited them to be seated,
and for over an hour asked question after question
regarding their wonderful airship and the
great world beyond the wilderness of which he
knew so little.

“We’re perfectly safe to sleep here,” remarked
Mr. King, as the man left them finally.

“More than safe,” declared Dave. “These
people would protect us with their lives, the way
they feel about us.”

The wayfarers were pretty well tired out. All
three were soon asleep. It must have been two
hours later when Dave felt himself roughly
shaken. The outlaw leader and two others were
standing near, staring up into the sky in an awed,
puzzled way.

.bn 147.png
.pn +1
“What’s that?” asked the outlaw leader of
the young aviator. “It’s strange to us, and I
thought you’d know.”

Across the sky in the direction of the airship a
broad sweeping pencil of light swept the heavens
from zenith to horizon, and back again.

“Ah, that?” said Dave; “it’s the great
searchlight of the <i>Albatross</i>.”
.bn 148.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XVII "A TRUSTY GUIDE"
The young aviator had to do some explaining
for the benefit of the outlaw leader before the
latter could understand what a searchlight was.

“Reckon there’s no spot safe for a free and
easy fellow with all these new-fangled contrivances,”
remarked the man.

“I’d like to see that balloon, all the same,”
observed one of his band.

“We’d better keep close to the safety line,”
advised the leader. “There’s a good deal of
hubbub around, and we’d better watch out for the
MacGuffins.”

It was an hour later when the two men sent to
Forestville came galloping back into camp. They
were hot, tired and dusty. Their steeds were
reeking, and dropped their heads in an exhausted
way as their riders drove up to the campfire and
dismounted.

“Did you get the stuff?” inquired the leader.

“That’s what you sent us for, wasn’t it?”
queried one of the horsemen. “Well, there it
is,” and he handed out a package.
.bn 149.png
.pn +1

“We had some trouble making the drug clerk
understand how badly and quickly we needed it,”
remarked the other horseman, with a chuckle.
“When we told him that Forestville would be off
the map in a few days if he didn’t act lively, he
produced results double quick.”

Mr. King examined the package. It contained
two large glass tubes filled with quicksilver. He
thanked the men heartily. His hand went to his
pocket and his purse was half withdrawn to offer
a reward, when he noted a warning flash in the
eyes of the leader.

“Don’t try to pay for what money wouldn’t
get you if you weren’t friends,” said the man,
tersely.

“We are anxious to get back to the airship,”
suggested the airman.

“Want to start right away?”

“Yes, if possible.”

“That searchlight signal will guide you?”

“Oh, surely. Besides, I think we could find
our way without its aid.”

“Maybe. Just the same, I’ll go with you as
far as the gap. That’s hard to cross unless you
know it pretty well, or hit a trail by accident, as
you seem to have done in getting here. Hi, there,
saddle up four fresh horses,” ordered the speaker
to one of his men.
.bn 150.png
.pn +1

“This is pretty fine treatment,” declared the
young aviator, as his friends and himself found
themselves in the saddle and the outlaw leader
piloting the way from the camp.

“It will take my wife a long time to forget all
we owe you,” the leader remarked more than
once.

At the end of two hours’ travel, the latter
stages of which were taken through dark and
sinuous windings along a densely-verdured ravine,
their pilot ascended a long slope.

“There’s your searchlight still going,” he said,
pointing to the broad waving flare in the sky. “I
dare not go any farther with you for two reasons,”
he explained. “In the first place I’m over what
we call the safety line. In the next place I want
to get back in time to start a daylight hunt after
those MacGuffins.”

“I feel sure we can find our way to the <i>Albatross</i>
now,” said the young aviator.

“Say, that was a queer adventure, wasn’t it
now?” spoke Hiram, as their recent guide waved
his hand in a friendly way and disappeared like a
flash back the route they had come.

“These rough fellows are true blue when you
touch the right spot,” declared the airman. “We
seem to be on higher level ground than before.
Let us get along as fast as we can, so we can send
the horses back.”
.bn 151.png
.pn +1

The outlaw leader had insisted that they retain
the steeds. He had instructed them to simply
head them back homewards when they were
through with them.

“Don’t fret,” he had said, confidently, “they’ll
be sure to find the camp feeding trough before
breakfast time.”

“This has been quite an adventure, as you say,
Hiram,” remarked Mr. King, as they trotted
single file on account of the narrow course.

“With probably a lot more of it waiting us
along the line,” added Dave.

“Yes,” assented Hiram, “I can guess it will
be pretty lively if we cross the Atlantic. Say,
we’re getting near to the <i>Albatross</i>.”

This was apparent from the clearer radiance
from the searchlight glow. They rode on about
two miles further.

“We can do the rest on foot, I fancy,” said
Mr. King.

The party dismounted, arranged the bridles so
they would not trail, turned the heads of the
horses homewards for them, and, giving each a
slap on the flanks, watched them dart away,
rapidly.

The searchlight faded out before they had proceeded
a mile. In fact, day was breaking. The
sun came up as they reached the bottom of a high
hill.

“I remember this spot,” said the young aviator.
.bn 152.png
.pn +1

“Yes, we left the camp this way,” agreed Mr.
King, casting a look about and recognizing some
landmarks.

“I suppose Professor Leblance has been mighty
anxious about us,” said Hiram. “I’ll have a
great story to tell Mr. Grimshaw.”

Despite the arduous rigors of their all-day
tramp and all-night adventures, Dave and Hiram
felt fresh and ambitious.

“We’re pretty near the top,” spoke the young
aviator. “I’ll race you to see who arrives first.”

“All right,” agreed Hiram. “Here we go.”

Dave showed the most endurance. He reached
the summit, paused and waved his hand triumphantly
at his toiling rival.

“Hold on,” called Hiram. “Wait for Mr.
King.”

“I’ll take a look first,” answered Dave.

The young aviator climbed over a low ledge of
boulders. Beyond them was a fringe of high
bushes. Dave knew that, these passed, the <i>Albatross</i>
would be in view.

He pressed his way through the bushes and
cleared the last obstruction at a leap. Then the
young aviator took one look, uttered a dismayed
cry, and fairly dived back in among the undergrowth,
startled beyond expression.
.bn 153.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XVIII "IN A BAD FIX"
“Keep back!” shouted the young aviator.

He accompanied the words with a spring and
a roll that took him through and past the fringe
of bushes and brought him directly against Hiram.

“Hold on, I say. The mischief!” blurted out
Hiram, tipped clear off his balance.

“Hush!” warned Dave, regaining his feet.
“Don’t go ahead, don’t make any disturbance.
Stop Mr. King.”

Dave spoke the words in a hurried and urgent
tone. Then, cautiously, he crept on all fours
through the shrubbery. He took a second more
comprehensive look over the plateau. Then he
worked his way back to the bewildered Hiram.

“See here, Dave Dashaway,” challenged the
latter, “you’re acting mighty strange.”

“What’s the trouble here?” inquired Mr.
King, coming up to the boys, pursuant to mysterious
gestures from Hiram.

“It is trouble, I am very much afraid,” replied
Dave, seriously.

“What do you mean—about the airship?”
.bn 154.png
.pn +1

“Yes, Mr. King. The <i>Albatross</i> seems to be
all right, but about twenty men, all armed with
guns, have our entire party cornered near some
rocks.”

“You don’t say so!” cried the airman. “Let
me have a look.”

“Be careful, then,” advised Dave. “It looks to
me as if another band of these wild outlaws probably
traced the searchlight, and have managed to
catch our friends away from the airship. Anyway,
our folks are helpless, and the strangers
look fierce and dangerous.”

All three of the adventurers crept through the
fringe of underbrush and took a look across the
plateau. They found the situation as Dave had
described it to be. The strangers held Professor
Leblance, Mr. Dale, Grimshaw and the others at
bay. A big, rough-looking fellow, evidently the
leader of the band, was talking animatedly to the
Frenchman. The others of the intruders held
their rifles in a way that threatened an attack if
the captives showed any resistance.

“They may be the MacGuffins,” whispered
Hiram, intensely wrought up with excitement.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Dave. “Mr. King,
let us try to get nearer to them.”

“Yes, we may learn what is going on and give
our friends some help, if they need it,” replied the
airman.
.bn 155.png
.pn +1

They had to cover half a mile in a cautious detour.
This finally brought them to a thicket not
thirty feet distant from their friends and enemies.
Mr. King lay flat on the ground behind some high
bushes, and his companions followed his example.
Dave bent his ear keenly, to catch what the leader
of the invading party was saying.

“That don’t go with me,” the man said.
“How do we know that you ain’t here to spy on
us? We fine trespassers here and we charge rent
for the use of our property.”

“You must own the whole state, you fellows
must,” snapped out Grimshaw.

“We run this district, if you want to know it,”
retorted the outlaw. “Usually we just string up
spies.”

“But we are no spies,” declared the professor,
earnestly.

“We don’t take your word for that. Come,
you’ve got to pay your reckoning. You scrape us
up as much as two hundred dollars among you,
or——”

The speaker waved his hand significantly in the
direction of the <i>Albatross</i>.

“Yes,” growled one of his fellows. “It
wouldn’t take us long to make a sieve of that contrivance.”
.bn 156.png
.pn +1

“I resent this outrage!” cried the Frenchman,
hotly. “We are under international protection.
Our mission is in the interests of science. If you
interfere with us, you will rouse the entire community.
It will be the worse for you.”

“Hear him, boys,” rallied the outlaw leader.
“Say, stranger, who’s going to tell what we did
or didn’t do to you, hey?”

The speaker grinned in a cold-blooded way that
made Hiram Dobbs shiver.

“Say, Mr. King,” he whispered hoarsely,
“shoot them.”

“One gun against twenty wouldn’t count for
much,” responded the airman, with a shake of his
head.

“I will pay no ransom, I will give you not one
cent of blackmail,” declared the doughty Frenchman,
thoroughly indignant.

“All right, then we will ransack your old gas
bag and take what we want,” boasted the outlaw.

“I warn you,” cried the professor. “The airship
is one mass of devices you do not understand.
You may find trouble.”

“What do you bother with him for?” cried
the man beside the last speaker. “We’ll cover
the rest of the crowd. You make him take you
over the machine and get what’s lying around
loose.”

“Can’t we do something, Mr. King?” inquired
the young aviator, in an anxious tone.
.bn 157.png
.pn +1

“I fear not, Dashaway,” was the reply.
“These are desperate men and bound to have
their own way. We can only hope that our being
free will help our friends somewhere along the
line.”

“You come with me,” ordered the outlaw
leader, roughly seizing Professor Leblance by
the arm and pulling him along. “Keep your eyes
on those others,” he added, to his men.

The Frenchman held back with resolute face
and force. The outlaw, however, was a great,
bulky fellow of enormous strength.

They had proceeded less than twenty feet towards
the airship, when a quick word cut the air,
clear and startling as a pistol shot.

“Halt!”
.bn 158.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XIX "A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND"
In an instant of time the whole complexion of
affairs had changed. The young aviator and his
two companions crouched, staring at the scene before
them, which now seemed the stage setting to
some intense drama.

“Hello!” gasped the excitable Hiram.

“What does that mean?” echoed Mr. King,
in a truly astonished way.

Dave was quite as fully amazed and puzzled.
Suddenly and unexpectedly a form had sprung
into view just beyond one of the floats of the
<i>Albatross</i>. It was that of a lithe person, young
and energetic. To all appearance he was a negro,
for hands and face at that distance were of seeming
ebony hue.

This extraordinary person, a stranger to all who
looked upon him, held leveled a short but heavy
rifle. At once the watchers from the underbrush
recognized it as one of several weapons provided
for the arsenal of the giant airship before the
<i>Albatross</i> had left Croydon.
.bn 159.png
.pn +1

“It’s the magazine rifle Mr. Dale showed us!”
exclaimed Hiram. “Who’s the fellow holding it,
and how did he get it?”

“Who is he, indeed?” murmured the airman,
staring hard at the person who had so startlingly
pronounced that mandatory word—“Halt!”

The outlaw leader had come to a dead stop.
He dropped the arm of the professor, who took
in this last strange incident of the moment in a
very bewildered way.

“Stand still or I will fire,” rang out now in
clear, vibrant tones.

Those of the band guarding the rest of the crew
of the <i>Albatross</i> stood mute and staring, taken
aback by the determined and threatening attitude
of the person near the balloon.

“If one of your men so much as raises a
weapon, I will shoot,” came floating distinctly on
the still mountain air. “I hold a magazine rifle
in my hand loaded for one hundred rounds, that
will shoot eighty times in a minute. Order your
men to put down their guns.”

The outlaw leader hesitated. Bang! ten times
in incredibly rapid succession at a light pressure
the formidable magazine rifle rang out, aimed,
however, at the boughs of a nearby tree, some of
the leaves of which fell in scraps and ribbands
under the destructive effect of the powerful fusillade.
.bn 160.png
.pn +1

“One, two, three—I can pick them off before
they can raise a trigger!” shouted the sable
champion of the airship crew. “I’ll do it, too, if
that order is not given double-quick.”

The outlaw leader quailed. Then he turned
and made a sign to his men. The last one of them
placed his gun on the ground.

“March,” came the inflexible order. “Down
that path to the left, so we can keep you in view.
You will find your weapons safe when you return
and we are gone. Go!”

The menace of the powerful magazine rifle
cowed the outlaw gang. The breathless spectators
from the brush saw them join their leader unarmed,
take the path as directed, and file away
from the plateau.

The person who had so marvellously accomplished
all this never lowered his weapon. Still
holding it ready for instant use, he walked over
to where a ledge of rocks rose like a sentinel
tower above the level of the plateau. There posting
himself, he held the discomfited retreating foe
in constant sight. He swung his hand towards
the stupefied crew of the airship. He spoke some
order or suggestion to them that Dave did not
overhear. The party, however, at once possessed
themselves of some of the abandoned rifles of
the outlaws and stood ready for attack and defence.
.bn 161.png
.pn +1

Mr. King arose and hurried over to where Professor
Leblance stood, and Dave and Hiram followed
him.

“Professor!” cried the airman. “Here are
some strange happenings. Who is that person—not
one of the crew?”

“I never saw him before,” replied the dazed
Frenchman. “He has saved us.”

“And the <i>Albatross</i>. We have the quicksilver.
This is a dangerous ruffian-infested district. Let
us leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Frenchman, in a hurried
tone. “After what has happened we cannot be
too quickly nor fast on our way.”

The animated engineer of the <i>Albatross</i> bustled
about into immediate action. He ordered two of
his men to join their rescuer on the rocks. All
the others were impressed into service in assisting
to get the giant airship ready for a new and longer
flight.

It did not take fifteen minutes to accomplish
this. One by one Professor Leblance told off his
expert assistants to their duties. Dave and Hiram
had been kept busy, but more than once the young
aviator had glanced in the direction of the heroic
figure on the rocks.

He saw the Frenchman say some quick words
to Mr. King, and the latter then approach the
stranger. Some conversation took place between
.bn 162.png
.pn +1
them. As a signal for starting was sounded from
the engine room, Mr. King turned towards the
airship. He was accompanied by the person with
the magazine rifle.

All hands got quickly aboard. When the young
aviator reached the cabin he found their mysterious
friend seated in a shaded corner of the place.
Then the activity and excitement of the ascent
engrossed all minds.

The magnificent <i>Albatross</i> arose in the air like a
bird. It attained a high altitude. All the recent
troubles of its crew faded away like light feather
down.

Mr. King came into the cabin inside of half an
hour, quickly followed by Professor Leblance.
Both looked intensely curious. The <i>Albatross</i>
safely started on a steady course, they had evidently
hastened to explore the mystery of the
strange friend who had aided them in their sorest
need.

The airman approached the silent, timid-appearing
figure in the corner of the cabin. He extended
his hand warmly, grasping that of the shrinking
stranger.

“My friend,” he said, “come up to the table.
We want to have a talk with you. You asked to
be taken aboard, and said you would then explain
your being here.”
.bn 163.png
.pn +1

The stranger somewhat reluctantly took a chair
at the cabin table. For all his recent heroic attitude,
he acted rather embarrassed and frightened
now.

He looked down. Then he trembled visibly.
And then he made the remarkable statement:

“I am a stowaway.”
.bn 164.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XX "THE STOWAWAY"
The young aviator took a long, earnest stare at
the mysterious person who had just stated that he
was a stowaway. In a flash Dave seemed to get
hold of one end of a long chain of circumstances
and mysteries.

“A stowaway?” repeated Professor Leblance,
incredulously. “You mean aboard the <i>Albatross</i>?”

“Yes, sir.”

“From the time when she first started?”

“And before.”

“You amaze me!”

“I am amazed at myself,” came the words, in
rather a depressed way. The speaker dropped
his head, and both of his interlocutors looked
troubled and more puzzled than ever. “I’ll tell
you, gentlemen, I’d rather not say much till I am
sure your airship is out of the country. You know
you promised I should stay aboard if I wanted to,”
he added to Mr. King.

“I surely did,” assented the airman, heartily.
.bn 165.png
.pn +1

Dave had been studying the profile of the stowaway.
He had noticed that his ebony hue was
due entirely to soot or greased lampblack smeared
over face and hands. Further, the keen glance of
the young aviator had scanned closely the clothing,
even down to the necktie of the stranger, and
then—he was a stranger no longer to Dave.

“Mr. King, may I speak to you for a moment,”
said Dave, moving out of the cabin into a passageway.
In some surprise the airman followed him
there.

“What is it, Dashaway?” he asked.

“The stowaway. I know him, Mr. King,” declared
Dave, hurriedly. “There is a certain
mystery about him he dares not explain just now,
and you are embarrassing him dreadfully. Don’t
ask him any more questions. Tell him to come
to my stateroom. Later, I will explain everything
to you about him.”

“Well, well,” commented the airman; “you
seem to have the faculty for preparing surprises
for your friends, I must say. I’ll do what you
suggest, but I’m curious to understand what it all
means.”

“You shall soon know,” promised the young
aviator, and he went to the little partitioned-off
space where he and Hiram slept. He sat down
on one of the berths, placing a stool in the middle
of the room for his expected guest.
.bn 166.png
.pn +1

“You will find a friend in there,” reached
Dave’s ear, a little later, in the tones of the airman.

“Did—did you want to speak to me?” rather
falteringly asked the stowaway, entering the stateroom.
Mr. King retired and closed the door
after him.

“Why, yes,” replied Dave pleasantly. “Say,”
and he grasped the hand of his guest in a hearty
way, “I am glad to see you, and doubly glad because
you have made good, just as I knew you
would. I once told a friend you were of the right
kind. You’ve proved it, Elmer Brackett, and I’m
proud of you.”

“Yes, I see you know me. Made good! Proud
of me?” repeated the boy in a dazed, half-stunned
way.

“Why, you saved the <i>Albatross</i>, didn’t you?”
cried the young aviator, in a spirited tone, bound
to rouse and buoy up his guest. “The lives,
too, probably, of every person aboard. What are
you crying for—joy?”

Sure enough, young Brackett was crying. He
acted like a boy in such a tangle of circumstances
that he was fairly crushed. Finally he blurted
out:

“Joy? None of that for me, ever again, I
guess.”

“Why not?” challenged Dave.
.bn 167.png
.pn +1

“Oh, you don’t know, you don’t know!” cried
the young man. “It seems as I sit here, in the
strangest position a fellow ever was in, I reckon,
that I’m in some terrific dream. There’s only one
clear idea I can cling to—to get out of the country,
away—away——”

“Away from that villain, Vernon? Am I
right?” spoke Dave, quickly.

“Yes, that’s it,” assented Brackett, in a lost
tone of voice.

“I thought so. Now then, see here, you are
among the best friends any fellow ever had. You
have just been the best kind of a hero ever was.
Forget everything else for the present. Make up
your mind that whatever your troubles may be,
there’s a combination aboard the <i>Albatross</i> strong
enough to help you fight your way clear out of
the last one of them, and—tell me all about it.”

There followed the most interesting hour of
Dave Dashaway’s life. The friend of everybody,
he had been the confidant and helper of many a
lad in difficulties. As bit by bit the strange history
of Elmer Brackett came out, however, Dave conceded
that it was the most remarkable case he had
ever handled.

Briefly, the reckless, impetuous son of the big
man in the Interstate Aero Company had become
the helpless victim of the schemes of Vernon.
Young Brackett did not tell Dave everything. He
hinted that while in a muddled condition he had
been induced by Vernon to forge a number of
notes.
.bn 168.png
.pn +1

Once completely in the power of the schemer,
the latter showed no mercy. He appalled
Brackett by claiming that he could send him to the
penitentiary, disgrace his family, and almost ruin
his father’s business. These claims were, in a
measure, exaggerations.

Elmer Brackett then lost his head completely.
His one thought was to escape from Vernon. He
disguised himself, after sending a letter to his
father, warning him against the forgeries, and
saying he was going to seek some foreign country
where he could lose himself and be forgotten.

“I had no money, I dared not appeal to friends,
for Vernon was seeking for me everywhere to
tighten the chains of his power around me,” related
the youth, bitterly. “I thought of you, and
while tracing down the <i>Albatross</i> I ran across
Davidson and young Dawson and their <i>Dictator</i>.
Maybe it was a wild idea, but I thought how it
would just suit me to get away from this country
by airship, for Vernon had claimed that if I left
him he would have the detectives looking out for
me everywhere. Well, I hung around Senca.
Then, as I didn’t think much of the way the <i>Dictator</i>
showed up, I went to Croydon.”

“It was you, then, who asked my friend,
Hiram Dobbs, about me, and wore a false mustache?”
.bn 169.png
.pn +1

“Yes, I was disguised,” admitted Brackett.

“And you were, too, the ghost who scared the
watchman at the <i>Albatross</i> aerodrome nearly into
fits!”

“That was me, too,” admitted Brackett.
“The night before you started I sneaked aboard
the airship. I stowed myself away behind the big
boxes of provisions near the cabin here. I heard
and saw what was going on. Then that crowd of
outlaws came, I got the magazine gun from the
arsenal, and—here I am.”

“And here you wish to stay till we get across
the Atlantic?” said the young aviator. “Good!
Now, then, take my advice; forget all this
wretched fear and trouble that is part of your
past. Help us win the great prize, and when this
trip is over trust to it that Mr. King and Mr.
Dale will find time and money to squelch this
miserable Vernon, straighten out your affairs, and
start you on a new career.”

Elmer Brackett, minus the lampblack and encouraged
by Dave, was soon quite another person
in appearance and spirits to the refugee stowaway.
Dave imparted to his friends only as much of
Brackett’s story as was necessary.

The following morning the boys awoke to find
the <i>Albatross</i> out of all sight of land, fairly
started on the great trip across the broad Atlantic.
.bn 170.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XXI "THE HAUNTED AIRSHIP"
“Say, fellows, this is life on the ocean wave
worth seeing, isn’t it?”

Hiram Dobbs spoke the words, and his auditors
and jolly companions were the young aviator and
Elmer Brackett. It was the second evening out of
sight of land. The <i>Albatross</i> had made splendid
speed, and the machinery had acted like a charm.
Just about dusk, however, Professor Leblance
had ordered a drop to lower level.

“There is a low barometric pressure,” Dave
Dashaway had heard him say to Mr. King.
“There is bound to be a change in the air currents
shortly, and I want to determine our course
from the way they act. There are some repairs
to make, also, and we will slow down for at least
two hours.”

The boys were immensely interested in the
manœuvers of their craft under the direct manipulation
of the professor. The <i>Albatross</i> was
brought to the surface of the water, resting on its
.bn 171.png
.pn +1
floats as easily and gracefully as the great ocean
bird it was named after. A hint from the cook
sat Hiram thinking. Fresh fish would come in
very acceptably for breakfast next morning, he
told Dave, and the trio decided to take the lighter
of the two boats and see what they could catch.

Mr. King warned them to keep within hailing
range of the airship and provided them with trolling
lines. The young aviator and Elmer plied
the oars and Hiram did the fishing. He was
gloating over the occasion with satisfaction, and
made the enthusiastic remark which heads the
chapter as he deposited a final catch, a fat codfish,
in the bottom of the boat.

“That will do, Hiram,” directed Dave. “We
have got more fish already than we can use
in a week, and some of them look as if they
were not in the eating class. The cook will
know.”

“Yes, and see, we are quite a distance from the
<i>Albatross</i>,” put in Elmer.

A weird warning wind sang about them just
then. The boys had been so engrossed in their
sport they had failed to notice that some scudding
clouds had obliterated the stars.

“Get to work, Elmer,” ordered Dave, picking
up the oars. “We must be a full mile from the
<i>Albatross</i>.”
.bn 172.png
.pn +1

“Yes, and maybe that storm Professor Leblance
told about is going to catch us,” remarked
Elmer, he too getting in shape for a row back to
the airship.

The minor headlight of the <i>Albatross</i> guided
them, and for this, a dim spark in the distance, the
little yawl was headed. The water had become
choppy, but the oarsmen felt equal to the task of
the moment.

“Just see that!” shouted Hiram, as a phosphorescent
streak crossed their course. “It’s
like a streak of fire.”

“There’s another one ahead,” said Elmer.

“Yes, and look! look!” exclaimed Hiram.
“It’s a shoal of fishes. Big fellows, too. Say,
see them leap out of the water.”

It was a stimulating sight and a novel one to
the boys. They were now within less than a
quarter of a mile of the airship. As Hiram
spoke, the big searchlight of the <i>Albatross</i> suddenly
flared up. It signalled the boys to return,
as Dave understood it.

“Say, I’m going to make a throw for one of
those big fellows,” declared Hiram.

“Don’t do it. Whew!” exclaimed Elmer.
“They are big fellows. Did you feel that?”

Some object had landed against the side of the
yawl, nearly tipping it.
.bn 173.png
.pn +1

“It’s a big fish, almost as big as a shark!”
shouted Hiram. “They’re chasing the smaller
ones. Whoop! I’ve caught something. Hurrah!
Slow down! Oh, the mischief!”

All in a fleeting second the excited lad shouted
out, tugged at the trolling line, bracing his feet
against the bottom of the boat, and then—flop!
splash!

“Stop the boat!” rang out the voice of the
young aviator, sharply, for Hiram, his hand
tangled in the trolling line, had been pulled clear
over the end of the yawl. His startled comrades
saw him disappear, and strove staunchly to put
the boat about. As the craft half turned, there
was a shock and a crash.

A giant fish, perhaps a shark, had struck the
boat amidships. The craft was splintered in half
as quick as a flash. The next minute the young
aviator and his companion were struggling in the
water.

The big marine monster had apparently gone
straight on its way in pursuit of a disappearing
phosphorescent mass. Dave grabbed out at the
one floating half of the wrecked yawl.

“This way—Hiram! Elmer!” he shouted at
the top of his voice.

“I’m here,” panted Elmer, as he reached
Dave’s side and grasped the edge of the floating
wreck.

“Where’s Hiram?”
.bn 174.png
.pn +1

“U-um! Thunder!” puffed the individual in
question. “I’m safe, but my big catch got away,
line and all.”

“Never mind that now,” replied Dave.
“We’re in a serious fix, fellows.”

“And all the fish in the boat gone, too,”
mourned Hiram, dolefully.

“See here, both of you,” ordered Dave, decisively,
“don’t waste any time. We don’t know
what kind of danger hovers about us. Yell!”

“Good and loud!” agreed Hiram, letting out
a terrific warwhoop. The others chorused in.
Dave believed that their forlorn hail might have
some effect.

“They’ve heard us,” cried Hiram, joyfully.

“Yes, here she comes,” added Elmer, in a relieved
tone.

The searchlight on the <i>Albatross</i> was suddenly
shifted. Its broad, groping rays were focussed on
the sea, searching for the castaways. The glowing
pencils of light came nearer and nearer. Finally
the full dazzling gleam swept the wreck and those
clinging to it, and rested on it.

“They have seen us,” declared the young
aviator, as the searchlight maintained a full focus
directly upon them.

“And what next?” inquired Hiram.

“We will have to wait and see,” replied Dave.
.bn 175.png
.pn +1

Relief and rescue came almost magically quick.
The larger yawl of the <i>Albatross</i> glided across the
broad path of light, the veteran airman, the anxious
Grimshaw and two others its occupants.

“This ends all experiments in the fishing line,”
declared Mr. King. “It is a wonder some of
those sharks did not attack you.”

“The searchlight probably scared them away,”
suggested Grimshaw.

The adventure furnished a fruitful theme for
discussion when the boys were once more back in
the comfortable cabin of the airship. Hiram,
however, continued to expatiate on his great catch
and greater loss.

“I’ll bet it was a dolphin pulled me out of the
boat,” he declared. “Just think of it, fellows—catching
a dolphin! That’s something to brag
about.”

A storm set in within the hour and the <i>Albatross</i>
speedily sought a higher level. All the boys knew
about it was what Mr. King told them the next
morning. The pleasing swaying motion of the
giant craft had lulled them to sound and refreshing
slumber.

It was again after dark the next evening when
the cook came into the cabin, and looked at Mr.
King in a manner that made the airman inquire
curiously:

“What’s on your mind, Demys?”

“Why, I found a window broken in the room
just beyond the larder,” reported the cook.
.bn 176.png
.pn +1

“Hailstone, maybe,” said Mr. King, casually;
“you know we had some last night.”

“Yes, I know that,” replied the man. “Later
to-day I noticed two more panes of glass cracked
right across.”

“Perhaps the big strain of the wind in the
storm last night weakened them,” suggested the
airman.

“Maybe,” assented the cook, vaguely.
“Funny thing, though. I set a pan of beans in
the room to cool before supper. When I went
after them just now I found nearly half of them
gone.”

“Is that so, now?” questioned Mr. King, beginning
to get interested.

“Say, don’t you suppose it was rats?” propounded
the quick-thinking Hiram.

“No, sir!” declared the cook definitely. “I
have never noticed a trace of rats in the <i>Albatross</i>.”

“Then I’ll bet it’s another stowaway—say,
just like Elmer here was.”

All hands laughed abruptly at this unique piece
of guesswork.

“I reckon I was the only intruder aboard,
Hiram,” remarked Elmer, good-naturedly.

“Well, the beans are gone and somebody ate
them,” said the cook. “It couldn’t be anybody
of the crew, for no one has passed through the
galley but myself, and the room I speak of is
beyond it.”
.bn 177.png
.pn +1

“Suppose we investigate?” suggested the
young aviator.

“That’s it,” agreed the impetuous Hiram.
“Come on, fellows.”

All hands followed the cook to his quarters.
They inspected the galley and then entered the
room beyond it. Sure enough, there was the
dish of beans, nearly half its original contents
missing.

Hiram and Elmer explored every nook and
corner of the place where there was the least opportunity
for a stowaway to hide. Their search
was without results.

“It’s certainly something of a mystery,” decided
the young aviator. “Those cracked windows,
too. Why,” he added, examining them
closely, “it looks as though some one had deliberately
hammered on them until they gave way,
as you see.”

There was another sensation the next evening.
The cook came rushing into the cabin. Mr.
King happened to be on hand.

“I’m getting superstitious and scared,” declared
the cook.

“What’s up now?” interrogated the airman.

“Enough for anybody’s nerves,” reported the
man. “Sounds, scrapings, sort of low groans.
I’m beginning to believe the airship is haunted.”
.bn 178.png
.pn +1

“Nonsense!” said Mr. King. “When did
you hear these strange noises you describe?”

“Just now. See here, some of you come with
me and see if you can figure this thing out.”

The boys were ready enough for the investigation.
The cook led them to the galley, and they
sat down as he put out all the lights.

“Now keep perfectly quiet and listen patiently,”
directed the young aviator.

“There’s something,” spoke Hiram in a
hoarse whisper, as a queer cooing sound came
from the watched room. “Gently, now,” he
added and crept through the doorway.

There was a fluttering sound. Dave traced
it to a corner of the room where there were some
boxes. The noise came from behind them.
He groped with his hand, and his fingers finally
grazed a feathery, shrinking object.

“Flare a light,” he called out instantly. “I’ve
caught the stowaway.”

“Who is it? what is it?” cried Hiram, rushing
forward as the electric lights were turned
on.

“Why, it’s a bird—a pigeon,” announced
Dave, dragging into view a ruffled, timid dove.
“Here’s your mystery explained. The bird must
have been driven through the broken window
during that storm the other night. The poor
.bn 179.png
.pn +1
thing was famished and ate the beans. Then it
cracked the window panes trying to get out
again.”

“You’ve got it, Dave,” declared Hiram,
“only, say, what is that fastened under its
wing?”

“Why, sure enough,” said Dave, observing
what looked like an oilskin package fastened
with silk cord under the wing of the bird. “Fellows,
this must be a carrier dove. We must see
Mr. King about this.”

The airman inspected the oilskin package. He
read a written enclosure it contained.

“This is a trained passenger pigeon,” he said.
“Started from Rio de Janeiro and carrying a
message to its former home in Washington.
Feed up the bird, boys, and we’ll send the brave
little thing again on its journey.”

The next morning when the carrier pigeon was
set free, started landwards, it bore a second message.
This told the world that the giant airship
was eight hundred miles on its trip across the
broad Atlantic.
.bn 180.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XXII "FIRE AT SEA"
“Well, Dave, they stole a march on us last
night.”

“How is that, Hiram?” questioned the young
aviator.

“Landed. Yes, sir, the <i>Albatross</i> made a
landing about midnight on the beach of some
island—Bermuda or Bahama, or something like
that. Last point of land this side of Europe, the
professor says. Took on a fresh supply of water.
Mr. King visited the town nearby and got some
papers, and sent a message to the aero association.”

Hiram had just come from the cabin, preceding
his comrade in waking up by a few minutes.
When the two friends went to the cabin they
found young Brackett waiting to take breakfast
with them.

A few days had made a marked change in the
new passenger of the <i>Albatross</i>. Everybody was
pleasant and encouraging to him. He had become
greatly interested in the workings of the
.bn 181.png
.pn +1
airship. Dave had suggested to him that, owing
to the fact that his father was a foremost manufacturer
in the aeroplane line, he had a splendid
opportunity to begin business life in the same
field.

The <i>Albatross</i> had started out on its real voyage
in fine shape, weather conditions being perfect.
So far, except for the adventure among
the mountain men of North Carolina, not one
adverse incident had marred the flight.

The three friends chatted and joked buoyantly
while dispatching their appetizing meal. Young
Brackett had picked up one of the newspapers
brought to the airship from the island just after
midnight. He was looking it over casually, when
he uttered a quick cry as of startled amazement.

“It’s not true!” he almost shouted, and he
brought his fist down upon the table to emphasize
the remark with such force that the dishes
rattled.

“What’s not true, Brackett?” inquired the
young aviator, in some surprise.

“Listen!” called out the lad in considerable
excitement, and then he read from the newspaper:

“Another red, white and blue float was picked
up three hundred miles from land by the steamer
<i>Royale</i>. It proved to contain a dispatch with the
readings: ‘Aug. 21, altitude one thousand feet,
.bn 182.png
.pn +1
course due east, making splendid time. Airship
<i>Dictator</i>: Signed, Roger Davidson, Perry Dawson,
on board.’”

“That sounds like business,” exclaimed
Hiram. “The twenty-first. That’s the day we
started. They were forty-eight hours ahead of
us.”

“Not true!” again declared young Brackett,
sharply.

“You mean?” asked Dave, in wonder.

“Davidson and Dawson are not aboard of the
<i>Dictator</i>.”

“Oh, pshaw, now how can you say that,”
challenged the impetuous Hiram, “when here is
the clear evidence?”

“You seem to know something we don’t
know,” remarked Dave, with a close glance at
Brackett. “The public prints announced that
Davidson and Dawson started with the <i>Dictator</i>
on the trip across the Atlantic on the afternoon
of the nineteenth.”

“They did,” nodded Brackett. “I saw them.
But they came back.”

“What’s that?” cried Hiram.

“Yes, they did.”

“In the <i>Dictator</i>?”

“Oh, no, and that’s the queer part of it. They
may have lost their nerve—it looks that way.
They may have hired someone else to take the
.bn 183.png
.pn +1
risk of the trip. Anyhow, they got out of the
<i>Dictator</i> after leaving Senca, and came back there
at midnight. I slept that night in the place where
they had built the <i>Dictator</i>. I saw them come,
I saw them go away.”

“Brackett, you astonish me,” said Dave,
bluntly. “Are you sure of what you say?”

“Perfectly,” declared the lad, with positiveness.
“Davidson and Dawson came secretly to
the old aerodrome. They had a big automobile,
and loaded into it a long box. Both were disguised,
and I recognized them only by their
voices. I heard them speak of getting to the
steamer. How to explain these dispatches, apparently
dropped from the <i>Dictator</i> into the
ocean, I don’t know. I’ve only told you what I
do know.”

“Mr. King must know of this,” said Dave,
thoughtfully.

No plausible solution of the tangle was arrived
at, however. Amid the sheer exhilaration and
activity of their own superb flight, the crew of
the <i>Albatross</i> soon forgot the incident surrounding
the rival airship with new mystery.

For two days and nights the giant airship made
an even, steady run, true as a needle to a set
course. There was a slight mist over the waters
the next evening. So fair and promising was the
weather, that Professor Leblance had deviated
.bn 184.png
.pn +1
from the route he had first laid out. He had
made an aerial short cut. The result was that
they were somewhat out of the regular path of
ocean travelers.

It was always a pleasure for the boys to watch
out nights for the steamers far beneath them.
That night, Grimshaw, seated at one of the windows,
remarked in his usual laconic way:

“Light ahoy!”

“Where away?” chirped the active Hiram,
who was priding himself on becoming quite
nautical.

“Just ahead, somewhat to the southeast.”

“I see it,” said the young aviator.

“So do I,” joined in Hiram. “Why, say,”
he added, excitedly a minute or two later, “that’s
no light. It’s a fire.”

As they progressed and the radiance became
plainer, all hands decided that Hiram was right.
Nearer and nearer they came to the growing
light. Flames became visible, then the fire
fringed the outlines of hull and rigging.

Dave ran to the pilot room and quickly advised
Mr. King of the circumstance. Professor Leblance
was summoned from the engine room.

“Slow down and focus the searchlight on the
ship,” he ordered.
.bn 185.png
.pn +1

This was done. It was a vivid and exciting
scene. The great fingers of radiance went groping
all about the craft. No one seemed aboard.
No one seemed struggling in the waves about the
ship.

Fast to its stern, however, by a long cable and
thus held in position, was a rude raft. The
searchlight showed a man standing upon this and
viewing the blazing ship. At his feet, covered
over with a tarpaulin, there seemed to be another
human form.

“We cannot leave those people to their fate,”
said the Professor. “Mr. King, we will drop
the floats and stop, while you and the boys take
the emergency yawl and go after whoever may be
aboard of that raft.”

The <i>Albatross</i> rested its floats lightly upon the
water and skimmed it slowly at an even height,
like the royal bird after which it was named.

The handling of the yawl was of a piece with
the operation of all the perfect utilities of the
airship. The three boys took the oars and the
airman acted as pilot.

Just as they got near to the raft they saw the
man standing upright upon it, sever the cable
holding it to the burning ship. The heat from
the flames had evidently become too intense for
him to bear. Then he posed in an attitude of
suspense and eagerness, a wiry, keen-eyed little
man. He had a long, oval metal box strapped
across his shoulder, and was dripping wet.
.bn 186.png
.pn +1

“Good for you!” he hailed, as the airman
grappled the raft with a boathook.

“Ship caught fire, did it?” remarked Mr.
King.

“No, I set it.”

The yawl crew stared almost unbelievingly at
the man as he made this statement, but he went
on calmly:

“I had to. She’s water logged, and bound to
sink the first capful of breeze that hits her.”

“Where are the passengers and crew?” asked
the airman.

“Abandoned her early this morning. I was
down in the cabin getting this”—and the speaker
tapped the tin box as though it contained something
precious. “They missed me, and were
away in the boat before I knew it.”

“But the fire?”

“I made this raft ready against the ship scuttling.
Thought I’d fire the ship for a signal for
help. You see it did some good.”

“Well, get aboard,” ordered the airman.

“What about him?” inquired the shipwrecked
man, and he pointed to the tarpaulin on the raft.

“Someone there?”

“Yes.”

“Who is it?”

“A man I rescued not an hour ago. He lay
across a wooden grating, floating along past the
ship. His head is bleeding, and he is unconscious.”
.bn 187.png
.pn +1

Mr. King directed Dave and Hiram to assist
in lifting the insensible man to the yawl. The
latter was limp and lifeless as some water logged
rat. They placed him in the bottom of the yawl
and resumed their oars.

“See here,” spoke the man with the tin box,
“the best you can do for me is a sky sailor, is
it?”

“That, or nothing,” replied the airman.

“Where are you bound for?”

“Across the Atlantic, for Europe.”

“I knew it would come some day,” observed
the rescued man quite coolly. “You see, I’m an
inventor myself. I’ve got in that tin box patents
for a new kind of color photography that will
make me millions. I’m not altogether poor just
now, either, and if you set me and my patents
safe on <i>terra firma</i> almost anywhere, I’ll pay a
handsome reckoning.”

Within the hour the rescued men were hoisted
safely into the airship and the yawl replaced in
position. The unconscious man had been carried
into one of the staterooms. Professor Leblance
had quite a smattering of medicine. He examined
the patient, prepared some remedies
from a medicine chest the craft carried, and came
into the cabin to report to Mr. Dale.
.bn 188.png
.pn +1

“A very sick man. What water and exposure
have not done, a bad cut on the head has. He is
delirious and in a weak and feverish condition.
I would suggest that you in the cabin here take
turns in caring for him.”

All hands were agreeable to this. In the excitement
and bustle of the rescue, Dave and the
others had not particularly noticed the sufferer.
Dave had scarcely entered the place where the
patient lay, however, with Hiram, when he gave
a great start. He stood with his eyes fixed on the
man, as he spoke hurriedly to his comrade.

“Go to Mr. King and tell him to come here
at once.”

“What is it, Dashaway?” inquired the airman,
appearing a few minutes later.

“Look, Mr. King,” said the young aviator,
pointing to the prostrate man; “who is he?”

“Impossible!” ejaculated Mr. King, starting
back. “Why, it’s Roger Davidson!”

There was no doubt of the fact. In turn Grimshaw,
young Brackett and even Hiram confirmed
the identification.

“Here’s a new mystery for you,” admitted Mr.
King, coming into the cabin an hour later. “The
clothes that man wore show little adaptability
to airship work. In one of his pockets I found
the main stub of a steamship ticket. He never
fell from any airship. I can account for his extraordinary
appearance upon the scene in one way
only.”
.bn 189.png
.pn +1

“And that?” questioned Mr. Dale.

“Is that he was lost off some ocean steamer.
One thing certain—the <i>Dictator</i> never started
across the Atlantic with this man in charge.”

For three days Davidson lay insensible most of
the time. Meanwhile the <i>Albatross</i> coursed its
way without accident or delay. All hands were
delighted over the success thus far of their
wonderful enterprise. They passed the three-quarters
distance mark with every prospect of
reaching goal in splendid trim.

It was a cool, cloudy and misty night, and both
the professor and airman were on close guard on
account of the changed weather conditions. The
boys were reading in the cozy cabin. Grimshaw
and Mr. Dale had gone to bed, and everything
seemed proceeding smoothly in engine and pilot
rooms. Finally Hiram looked up from his book.

“We are surely going to make it,” he remarked.
“The professor says that it will be a
clean shoot ahead for land first thing in the morning.”

“I can hardly realize that there is every chance
of reaching the goal and winning the prize,” observed
the young aviator.

“Say, what was that?” abruptly interjected
young Brackett.
.bn 190.png
.pn +1

There had come a sudden shock. It resembled
a wrench, a shiver; as if some vital part of the
giant mechanism had met with disaster.

“Something wrong!” cried Dave, springing to
his feet.

At that moment a blood-curdling yell echoed
through the airship.
.bn 191.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XXIII "THE FORLORN HOPE"
Hiram and Brackett joined the young aviator
in a rush for the passageway leading to the pilot
room. It was from that direction that the cry
had echoed.

A sharp, double danger signal rang out from
the engine room. There were sounds of distant
shouts. The yell was repeated. Some keen intuition
drove Dave to the stateroom which had
served as invalid ward for the man rescued from
the raft.

“Hiram,” cried the young aviator, “Davidson
is gone!”

“Why, it can’t be! Say—whew! suppose he’s
gone wild, and is rambling all over the ship among
that machinery!”

Snap—crack! Following upon the echoes of
that second terrific cry, a disturbing thing had
happened—every electric light in the <i>Albatross</i>
went out!
.bn 192.png
.pn +1

To add to the confusion and terror of the
moment, in the direction of the engine room there
rang out a thumping, crashing sound, as if some
disjointed part of the machinery was beating
things to pieces like a steel flail.

“Stand still,” ordered Dave, sharply, “don’t
try to grope about in the dark. It’s no use.”

The young aviator felt his way out into a corridor
leading to the supply room. It was a fortunate
thing that he had familiarized himself with
everything about the place. Dave located a certain
cabinet, and opening one of its drawers, took
out what he was after—an armful of electric hand
lights carrying their own batteries.

“Here, Hiram, Brackett,” he called, flashing
one of the tubes. “Take some of these. Follow
me. I don’t know that the people in the engine
rooms have any way of getting a light. Let us
hurry to them.”

“Hold on!” shouted a new voice, and Grimshaw
bolted upon the scene. “What’s the
trouble?”

“We don’t know, but something pretty serious,
I imagine,” replied Dave, quickly. “Take these.”

He furnished Grimshaw with two of the electric
tubes. Then Dave led the way to the pilot room.
He found Mr. King lighting matches to get some
kind of illumination, and as ignorant themselves
as to the condition of affairs. The aviator at once
led a rush in the direction of the engine room.
They arrived at the ante-chamber leading to it to
come upon a stirring scene.
.bn 193.png
.pn +1

A small hand lamp only illuminated the apartment.
It contained four men, the professor, two
of his assistants, and these latter were holding to
the floor and battling with and binding hand and
foot a wild, struggling maniac—Roger Davidson.

“He got loose!” cried the aviator, at once
reading the situation.

“And in his frenzy has done terrible damage to
the <i>Albatross</i>,” exclaimed Professor Leblance,
pale, disturbed and anxious-faced. “It is very
serious, I fear. Get him away to the cabin as
speedily as you can, and watch him every minute.
You, Mr. King, resume your post at the pilot
table. Dashaway, hurry all the spare light tubes
here.”

There was a shivery, uncertain wobble to the
giant airship now. The prodigious construction
resembled some monster machine that had received
a vital wound. Dave hastened on his mission.
As he returned to the engine room he passed
Hiram, Brackett and one of the assistants, carrying
Davidson back to the stateroom.

Mr. King was at his post at the pilot table, and
looked worried and helpless. The electric apparatus
of the airship having been destroyed, he
could only sit and use the speaking tubes.
.bn 194.png
.pn +1

Dave found the engine room in hideous disorder.
The engine was not in operation, and
parts of it were all out of order. The professor
and his men were getting a reserve engine in
shape. For over an hour, silently, and deeply engrossed
in all that was going on, the young aviator
placed the light tubes as directed, and brought
this and that tool and machine-fitting to the workmen
as Professor Leblance ordered.

Dave saw the new engine started up. The professor
held a long, whispered conversation with
one of his men. Then he beckoned to Dave and
led the way to the pilot room.

The Frenchman sank into a chair there, his face
gray and careworn. They were three anxious
ones. Leblance passed his hand over his eyes
wearily, as if he had gone through a terrible
ordeal.

“Well?” said the aviator simply.

“That maniac threw an iron bar into the
machinery. He has ruined everything,” announced
Leblance.

“But the new engine?”

“Can only operate the rudder control. The
entire mechanism is practically destroyed, my
friends. I must not conceal from you that the
situation is desperate, dangerous, almost hopeless!”

“But we are still running, Professor?” submitted
the aviator.
.bn 195.png
.pn +1

“With one forlorn hope in view.”

“Of reaching the end of our voyage?”

“That we can never hope for,” declared the
Frenchman, in a gloomy tone.

“Then—what?” bluntly demanded the aviator.

Leblance arose to his feet, running one hand
over his eyes with a swift movement as if to restore
impaired vision or brush away tears. He
proceeded to a map attached to the wall just above
the pilot table. His fingers traced the course already
traversed by the <i>Albatross</i>.

“We are here,” he said, halting the faltering
index. “Ahead, observe, is an island. It is two
hundred miles southwest of the coast of France.
We may possibly reach it by exhausting every
utility we possess. If we do not, within the next
forty-eight hours——”

The professor shrugged his shoulders slowly,
sadly this time. An expression of ineffable
solemnity crossed his noble face.

He pointed down as if indicating unknown
depths waiting to swallow them up. Then he
again ran his finger across the map, pausing at that
little dark speck that marked the island.

“A change of wind,” he said, “a single break
in the apparatus, a trifling leak, and we are at the
mercy of the mishap of our lives! That island—it
is our last forlorn hope!”
.bn 196.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XXIV "GOAL!"
“It’s too bad,” said Hiram, and the young
aviator’s assistant was very nearly at the point of
tears.

“We can only make the best of it,” returned
Dave, trying to be philosophical. “At any rate,
we made a grand run.”

“Yes, it’s something to beat the world’s record,
even half the way,” agreed Hiram. “But think
of it—only for that awful break of Davidson we’d
have won the day!”

The two young airmen sat outside of a wretched
little hotel, a part of a remote fishing town on the
island that had been “the forlorn hope” of the
<i>Albatross</i>. The giant airship had succeeded in
reaching it.

As Dave sat rather gloomily reviewing experience
and prospects, he could not help but think of
the past two nights and a day with a thrill. That
had been a desperate, hair-breadth dash of the
crippled airship. Without knowing all the technical
details of their situation, Dave had read from
the tireless, feverish actions of Professor Leblance,
that he was rushing the <i>Albatross</i> under a
fearful strain of risk and suspense, momentarily
dreading a new and final disaster.
.bn 197.png
.pn +1

Before daylight, with a flabby gas bag and with
the reserve engine barely able to work the propellers,
the <i>Albatross</i> had settled down on a desolate
stretch of beach, practically a wreck.

“The mechanism has played out completely,”
Leblance had asserted. “According to the regulations
of the international society, the flight must
end on the French or English mainland. We are
two hundred miles short. We might as well be
two thousand.”

“Is there no possible chance of getting new machinery,
of making temporary repairs that will
tide us over?” suggested Mr. King.

“Impossible, under days, even weeks,” replied
the Frenchman. “On the rule schedule a stay at
any point over twelve hours cancels the right of
entry.”

It was, indeed, too bad—so near to success, so
very close to goal! A profound gloom had spread
over every member of the airship crowd. The
islanders had viewed the strange craft with excited
curiosity at first, and had then gone back to
their fishing. Davidson had been removed to a
room at the little hotel, young Brackett in charge
as his nurse, and all the others had taken up their
quarters as well.
.bn 198.png
.pn +1

The young aviator and his comrade had been
discussing the situation seated on an overturned
boat. Hiram at length arose with a dreary kind
of sigh and strolled aimlessly back towards the
hotel. Dave sat thinking deeply. He started
up, however, as he saw Brackett coming towards
him.

“Dashaway,” he said quite excitedly, “I’ve
got to get back to my charge, don’t dare to leave
him alone, you know but I wanted you to read
something,” and the speaker extended some
folded sheets of paper.

“Why, what is this?” inquired the young
aviator.

“You know I understand shorthand—humph!
it’s about all I am good for, I reckon,” added
Elmer, in his usual deprecating way. “Well, for
the past hour or two my patient has been saying
some strange things.”

“What about?” asked Dave—“the <i>Dictator</i>
and Jerry Dawson, I suppose?”

“You’ve guessed it. I’ve written out his
ramblings in long hand. I fancy your quick mind
will weave a pretty startling story out of it all.”

“There’s the professor,” said Dave abruptly,
“I’ll read your notes later, Brackett,” and he
thrust the sheets into his pocket, and started towards
the beach as he saw Professor Leblance
leave the hotel, bound in the same direction.
.bn 199.png
.pn +1

The failure of the ambitious Frenchman had almost
crushed him. Dave felt sorry for him as he
noted the drooping head and dejected manner of
the scientist. He did not approach him closely,
but followed him at a distance. As they rounded
some rocks the <i>Albatross</i> came into full view.

Professor Leblance, walking slowly, gazed
with sadness upon the inert monster of the air.
Then he looked up at a hail. A fisherman was
running towards him. Dave noticed the professor
brace up magically at the first words of the
native. The latter pointed to the air and the sea.
His pantomime was expressive and energetic.

There came a sudden blast of wind, and then
Dave understood. He noticed the professor start
on a keen run for the <i>Albatross</i>. He was up the
trailing rope ladder sprightly as a lad, shouting
some orders to the fisherman, who ran towards
the guy cable attached to a great tree trunk.

“It can’t be possible,” almost gasped the
startled young airman, “that Professor Leblance
is thinking of trusting to the wind alone to finish
the flight. It’s true! I won’t be left behind!”

Dave caught at the ladder just as the propeller
began to whir. By the time he was in the cabin
the earth was fading away. He threaded the corridors
in the direction of the engine room.

“Dashaway!” shouted the professor in amazement,
as the young airman burst in upon him.
.bn 200.png
.pn +1

“Yes, Professor, I am here,” said Dave.
“You are going to make a try to reach the mainland?
I am with you.”

There was no time for compliments, explanations
or delay. In two minutes’ time the professor
had made his assistant aware of what was
required of him. Practically only as a balloon
could the <i>Albatross</i> now act, and only provided
the strong wind maintained in precisely the direction
it was now set.

“See, my friend,” spoke Leblance, eagerly,
“we have no control whatever over the planes.
The steering apparatus, too, is useless. The engine
will barely take care of the propellers. If
you know how to operate them, take my seat here.
Keep the rudder locked firm. That is all we can
do. For the rest—it is a risk, a perilous risk.”

“Anything to get there!” cried Dave; and
then the professor left him alone.

The <i>Albatross</i> had risen to a good altitude at
her first spurt. She drove with the wind at a
wonderful rate of speed. At the end of an hour,
however, the young aviator noticed a gradual
drop. The buoyancy of the gas bag was lessening.

After that Dave heard the professor working
with tools below the cabin. He was quite startled
as there was a jerk. Then he saw first one and
then the other of the aeroplane attachments go
hurtling down to the water, engulfed by the ocean.
.bn 201.png
.pn +1

Relieved of such an incubus the airship regained
a higher level. Two hours went by, then
three. The professor appeared in a great state
of excitement and hopefulness.

“She’s dropping again, but don’t let up for an
instant,” he ordered. “I see the land ahead—two
hours more, and we’ve made it.”

“Will the gas last?” inquired the young
aviator, seriously.

“I am about to free our final reserve—one
tank. That will do for a spell. Then—if I
have to explode the balloonets into the main gas
chamber, we must keep aloft till we are over
land.”

Up—down—up—down—that was the progress
for the next two hours. Once it was nearly
a volplane drift, and the dauntless young pilot
of the <i>Albatross</i> fancied they were headed for a
dive straight into the ocean’s depths.

A final rise, and Dave’s heart cheered as he
saw land not two miles distant. Professor Leblance
rushed into the engine room.

“Drift!” he ordered—“let her drop as she
likes now—we have arrived!”

The brave old scientist tottered from excitement
and exhaustion as he spoke. A great, thrilling
cheer seemed to lift from the lips of the young
aviator, and ten minutes later the <i>Albatross</i>, a
wobbling, flabby, weather-worn wreck, landed on
a great dock in the sight of waiting thousands.
.bn 202.png
.pn +1

“Boy,” spoke Professor Leblance, in a ringing
tone and with sparkling eyes, “we have reached
goal! The giant airship has crossed the Atlantic!”
.bn 203.png
.pn +1
.pm chap XXV "CONCLUSION"
“This is Professor Leblance, I believe? We
have been expecting you, sir.”

“And this is my friend and co-worker, David
Dashaway,” spoke the French scientist, proudly.

It was thirty-six hours after the giant airship
had landed on French soil. Within that space of
time rapid and interesting events had been
crowded into the experience of the young American
aviator.

At once after the landing, the professor had
sought out the nearest resident representative of
the French Aero Association. This individual
had officially verified the arrival of the <i>Albatross</i>.
Armed with the necessary credentials, Leblance
and his young assistant had started at once for
London.

Their destination, now reached, was the International
Aero Institute, with whom trans-Atlantic
negotiations had been made before the <i>Albatross</i>
started on its trip. The French official had wired
about the coming of the distinguished visitors.
.bn 204.png
.pn +1

Now Dave Dashaway, like the professor, arrayed
in a handsome new suit of clothes, stood in
the office of one of the most noted organizations
in the aero world.

The first flush of the recent triumph still dwelt
with Dave. Then there flashed over his mind the
marvelous contrast between the present moment
and less than six months previous. Then he had
been the obscure down-trodden ward of a cruel
guardian. Now through a mist of grateful tears
the young aviator thought tenderly of the right
royal friends who had assisted in crossing the Atlantic
in the giant airship and who had loyally
helped him to become the honored guest of men
famous the world over for science and intelligent
adventure.

The secretary of the club who had greeted them
stood aside with a courteous bow to usher them
into the reception room of the club. As he did
so he said:

“We are proud to greet you, Professor. Your
exploit will live in history, notwithstanding that
you are second in the remarkable feat of crossing
the Atlantic in an airship.”

The sensitive Frenchman recoiled as though
dealt a blow.

“How?” he cried sharply. “Second? what
does this mean?”
.bn 205.png
.pn +1

“You had not heard? Ah, yes, the <i>Dictator</i>,
pilot J. E. Dawson, landed near Plymouth day before
yesterday. After a terrible trip, clinging
to the mere rag of a gas bag, Dawson was found
nearly drowned on the seashore.”

Professor Leblance sank to a chair stupefied.
He stared like a man stunned into vacancy. He
was completely overcome.

A strange expression crossed the face of the
young aviator. Impulsively his hand went to a
certain document that Elmer Brackett had given
him two days before. His eye grew more steady,
his lips more firm.

“Will you kindly give me a few details of the
<i>Dictator</i> flight,” he requested, “while Professor
Leblance recovers from his surprise?”

It was a brief story. The red, white and blue
gas bag had landed near Plymouth. The daring
pilot was discovered clinging to it, drenched to
the skin. He had been feted, honored, brought
to London. He was even now in the next room,
relating his wonderful adventures to the president
and directors of the club.

“Come, Professor Leblance,” said Dave, in a
clear, steady tone, “I have something to say to
this wonderful J. E. Dawson.”

“Professor Leblance and Mr. Dashaway, of
the <i>Albatross</i>,” introduced the secretary, a minute
later.
.bn 206.png
.pn +1

Lolling in a luxurious armchair in the midst of
some braggadocio recital, with a startled jerk
Jerry Dawson came upright as though electrified.

The eye of the young aviator rested upon him
with a fixedness that made him squirm.

“Happy to meet you, Professor Leblance,”
greeted the club official. “You share a most
glorious exploit with our guest.”

“One word first,” interrupted Dave, amazed
at his own firmness of voice and nerve. “So
there may be no later misunderstanding, does
that young man, whom I recognize as a Mr. Dawson,
claim to have arrived first in the race across
the Atlantic?”

“Most assuredly,” responded the club president.

“His claim is unfounded,” declared the young
aviator in a calm, even tone, but with great positiveness.
“He is an adventurer, a fraud. He
crossed the Atlantic on the steamer <i>Alsatia</i>. The
balloon found on the Plymouth coast is a duplicate
of the <i>Dictator</i> which he brought along with
him, and the original <i>Dictator</i>, after a brief land
run, was purposely burned up fifty miles from
New York city.”

“Who says so?” shouted Jerry Dawson, getting
excitedly to his feet.

“Roger Davidson,” replied the young aviator,
simply.
.bn 207.png
.pn +1

Jerry Dawson grew white to the lips. He foresaw
the losing game, but still he blurted out:

“The proofs?”

“Gentlemen,” said Dave, “a cablegram will
serve to order an investigation of the ashes of the
<i>Dictator</i>. A living witness as to the shipboard experience
of this young romancer can be brought
to London as soon as our friends are reached.”

“Why, if this is true, the club will be the laughing
stock of the world,” observed the president,
bending a dark look on Jerry.

“I—I think I’ll go and consult a lawyer about
this insulting charge,” ventured Jerry. “Let me
out.”

“No, we will kick you out, if this is all true!”
shouted an angry director.

“You will remain here,” said the president,
firmly. “Your story, sir, the truthful one; or we
shall hold you criminally for false representation.”

Jerry was scared. Dave’s resolute face
daunted him most of all. He trembled and
shivered. By degrees he confessed. He was taken
to the office of the club to furnish a signed
statement. Then he was turned loose on the
streets of London—exit ingloriously Jerry Dawson!
.bn 208.png
.pn +1

The invalid wanderings of Davidson had supplied
his nurse, Elmer Brackett, with a pretty
clear history of the plot to impose a duplicate
<i>Dictator</i> on the public. While under the influence
of a drug, Davidson had fallen from the
steamer, and Jerry had thrown a grating after
him. Perhaps the hope of securing all the international
prize money for himself, had led Jerry
to say nothing further about the accident.
.tb
There was a great celebration at a noted London
hotel the week following. The most humble
member of the crew of the <i>Albatross</i> was present.

Money and fame had come to them all. Dave
Dashaway was the central figure with the public.
Professor Leblance seemed to take most pride in
the construction of the <i>Albatross</i>. Young, enterprising,
popular, Dave, as the last man at the
helm of the ill-fated <i>Albatross</i>, was the real hero
of the event.

“Well, lads,” said the happy Professor Leblance
across the table to Dave, Hiram and
Elmer, “you have now reached so high a notch
in aeronautic science that you can go no further.”

“Mistake,” piped up the irrepressible Hiram.

“Oh, yes, a grave mistake, Professor,” insisted
young Brackett.

Dave Dashaway only smiled.

“Come, what’s up with you young people?”
challenged the good-natured Mr. King.
.bn 209.png
.pn +1

“Why,” spoke the young aviator, “when we
go back home, and you have put that promised
quietus on that rascal Vernon, we are going to
Elmer’s father and have him build for us a
magnificent aeroplane that will beat anything ever
before constructed.”

“And the purpose?” inquired old Grimshaw,
with a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

“Why,” replied Dave, “our idea is to get up
a great international race around the globe.”

“That’s it,” jubilated the veteran airman. “I
knew it would be something grand and original.”

“Canada, Alaska, Siberia, Russia—finishing
where we began,” explained Dave Dashaway.

“Can it be done?”

“I think so.”

“But the danger——”

“There was danger in crossing the mighty Atlantic.”

“I know that. But to go around the world.
You will meet all sort of strange people and get
in many a tight situation, and——”

“But Dave Dashaway can do it, trust him,”
said Mr. Dale, proudly. “He is the son of his
father—you can trust him.”

“Oh, you can’t beat Dave,” cried Hiram.
“His enemies have tried it, and failed, every
time.”
.bn 210.png
.pn +1

So we leave our young airmen, full of ardor
and hope, with their wonderful plans. How the
same were carried out in a most remarkable
aviation exploit, will be told in a succeeding
volume, to be entitled, “Dave Dashaway Around
the World; Or, A Young Yankee Aviator Among
Many Nations.”

“Only one Dave Dashaway in this world,” said
Hiram, to young Brackett.

“The best friend I ever had!” murmured the
other. “One boy in a million!”

“Right you are!”
.sp 2
.ce
THE END
.pb
.bn 211.png
//.pn off
.sp 4
.nf c
<xl>THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES</xl>
By LESTER CHADWICK
.sp
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Postage 10 cents additional.</i>
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<xl>THE JEWEL SERIES</xl>

<sc>By AMES THOMPSON</sc>

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.pm illustnocap ad02 airship_ad2.jpg 270
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.sp
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.nf-
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<l>THE SADDLE BOYS SERIES</l>
By CAPT. JAMES CARSON

The Saddle Boys of the Rockies
The Saddle Boys in the Grand Canyon
The Saddle Boys on the Plains
The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch
The Saddle Boys on Mexican Trails
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<l>THE DAVE DASHAWAY SERIES</l>
By ROY ROCKWOOD

Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator
Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane
Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship
Dave Dashaway Around the World
Dave Dashaway: Air Champion
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<l>THE SPEEDWELL BOYS SERIES</l>
By ROY ROCKWOOD

The Speedwell Boys on Motorcycles
The Speedwell Boys and Their Racing Auto
The Speedwell Boys and Their Power Launch
The Speedwell Boys in a Submarine
The Speedwell Boys and Their Ice Racer
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<l>THE TOM FAIRFIELD SERIES</l>
By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Tom Fairfield’s School Days
Tom Fairfield at Sea
Tom Fairfield in Camp
Tom Fairfield’s Pluck and Luck
Tom Fairfield’s Hunting Trip
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<l>THE FRED FENTON ATHLETIC SERIES</l>
By ALLEN CHAPMAN

Fred Fenton the Pitcher
Fred Fenton in the Line
Fred Fenton on the Crew
Fred Fenton on the Track
Fred Fenton: Marathon Runner
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<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i>
.hr 60%
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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York
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.bn 216.png
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<xl>THE BOY RANCHERS SERIES</xl>
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By WILLARD F. BAKER
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.pm illustnocap ad06 airship_ad6.jpg 270
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<i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors</i>
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<i>Price 50 cents per volume.</i>
<i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i>
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<i>Stories of the great west, with cattle
ranches as a setting, related in such a style
as to captivate the hearts of all boys.</i>
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<l>1. THE BOY RANCHERS</l>
  <i>or Solving the Mystery at Diamond X</i>
Two eastern boys visit their cousin. They
become involved in an exciting mystery.
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<l>2. THE BOY RANCHERS IN CAMP</l>
  <i>or the Water Fight at Diamond X</i>
Returning for a visit, the two eastern lads learn, with delight,
that they are to become boy ranchers.
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<l>3. THE BOY RANCHERS ON THE TRAIL</l>
  <i>or The Diamond X After Cattle Rustlers</i>
Our boy heroes take the trail after Del Pinzo and his outlaws.
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<l>4. THE BOY RANCHERS AMONG THE INDIANS</l>
  <i>or Trailing the Yaquis</i>
Rosemary and Floyd are captured by the Yaqui Indians but the
boy ranchers trailed them into the mountains and effected the
rescue.
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<l>5. THE BOY RANCHERS AT SPUR CREEK</l>
  <i>or Fighting the Sheep Herders</i>
Dangerous struggle against desperadoes for land rights brings
out heroic adventures.
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<l>6. THE BOY RANCHERS IN THE DESERT</l>
  <i>or Diamond X and the Lost Mine</i>
One night a strange old miner almost dead from hunger and
hardship arrived at the bunk house. The boys cared for him and
he told them of the lost desert mine.
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<l>7. THE BOY RANCHERS ON ROARING RIVER</l>
  <i>or Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers</i>
The boy ranchers help capture Delton’s gang who were engaged
in smuggling Chinese across the border.
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<l>8. THE BOY RANCHERS IN DEATH VALLEY</l>
  <i>or Diamond X and the Poison Mystery</i>
The Boy Ranchers track Mysterious Death into his cave.
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<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i>
.hr 60%
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CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York
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<l>Transcriber's Notes</l>
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Italicized phrases are presented by surrounding the text with
_underscores_. Boldface phrases are presented by surrounding
the text with =equal= signs. Small capitals have been rendered in
full capitals.
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Punctuation has been standardized.
Minor spelling and typographic errors have been corrected silently,
except as noted below.
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"some one" and "someone" are used interchangeably throughout the book,
and all occurrences have been left as printed.
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On the second page (unnumbered), "12" added before "mo. Cloth. Illustrated."
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"Imposter" left as is on page 6 (instead of being changed to "impostor")
as it was sometimes spelled "imposter" in the time period.
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Three instances of "stop cock" changed to "stop-cock" to be internally
consistent and consistent with contemporary (1910's) usage.
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Several instances of "employe" left as is, as it appears that way
three times in the book and was written
that way occasionally in the time period.
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The word "distinguished" has been changed to "extinguished" on
page 114. 
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On page 117, "a-way" has been left as is, as it appears in 
dialectic speech.
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On page 118, "bulge" has been changed to "budge", as "bulge" doesn't
make sense, even as dialect.
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One sentence near the bottom of page 134
("Dave led the way to a thick copse. The woman")
was in the text twice (several paragraphs apart),
and the first instance has been removed.
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On page 202, "Rodger" has been changed to "Roger"
to be consistent with other usage in the book.
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