Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator: or, In the Clouds for Fame and Fortune

“Don’t you call Jerry a thief!”

“If he isn’t that, at least he neglected to watch my property and my interests as he was paid to do.”

“You’ll suffer for sending my son away with a bad character!”

“Don’t let me see him again, that’s all.”

“Huh!”

The last speaker, a big fierce-looking man came out through the doorway with the word. From the way he was dressed Dave decided that he was employed somewhere about the grounds. His face was red and his fists clenched. He gritted his teeth viciously as he went on his way.

“It’s my turn now,” spoke up Dave’s companion eagerly.

He made a quick bolt through the doorway. Dave was left alone. His eyes followed the man whom he had heard called Dawson. The latter had gone about a hundred feet down the hangar row, when a boy about the age and size of Dave came suddenly into view from behind a shed, where evidently he had been waiting.

Dave decided that this must be the son of Dawson concerning whom there had been such an animated discussion. He could surmise from their looks and gestures that the father was reporting the result of the interview to his son. The latter scowled forcibly. Then he shook his fist in the direction of the hangar.

“Why,” said Dave thoughtfully, “there must be a vacancy here. Maybe I have arrived just in the nick of time.”

It was easy to figure out that the boy, Jerry Dawson, had been discharged from the employ of Mr. King. His father had interceded for him, but it had been of no avail. Suddenly Dave’s interest was distracted from the incident of the moment. He heard his late companion speaking beyond the doorway: —

“Yes, sir, a man gave me that card and said he had heard that you was in need of a boy.”

“H’m, yes,” Dave heard Mr. King reply. “That is true, but – what’s your name.”

“Hiram Dobbs.”

“Where do you come from, Hiram?”

“I did live twenty miles west of here, but I got tired of farming and my brother said I could try something else if I wanted to. I worked for a fellow in the merry-go-round business in the city till night before last. He sloped without paying me.”

“And you want to break into the aero business, eh?”

“Well, I heard there might be a chance with you, so I came here. You see, I’ve had some experience.”

“In the airship line?”

“Well, no – balloons.”

“How? Where?” asked Mr. King.

“Down at Talcott, the town near our farm. There was a circus and a balloon ascension. I got caught in a rope and was dragged thirty feet up into the air.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes. Here, there’s a slip from the Talcott Herald, telling all about ‘the daring feat of our young townsman.’ If I hadn’t caught in a tree I’d have gone further.”

There was a sound of rustling paper. Then Dave heard Mr. King laugh. It was a kindly, good natured laugh, though. Dave voted he would like the man in whom he was so interested yet whom he had never seen.

“Well, well,” spoke Mr. King, “you were quite a hero. Being pulled up into the clouds on a balloon anchor is not the kind of experience that counts for much in the airship line, though, my lad. If I had something just suited to you, I would give you a chance on your honest face. Frankly, though, I do not think you would be of much use to me until you have had some practical experience.”

“Sorry,” replied Hiram Dobbs in a subdued tone, “for I like you, mister. Now, where can I get that experience?”

“By working around the hangars and doing odd jobs till you know a monoplane from a biplane, and a pylon from an aileron. See here, you go down to the office of the grounds – know where it is?”

“Yes, sir, near the big gateway, isn’t it?”

“That’s right. You ask for Mr. Linden, and tell him I want him to give you a job. Tell him I will be down to see him about it in an hour or so.”

“Will he put me at something?”

“I think he will. He has the concessions at all the meets for food supplies and the like. That will bring you in touch with every angle of the aeroplane business, and you look like a boy who would learn.”

“Just try me and see!” chuckled Hiram. “Thank you, sir, I’ll get directly about this business.”

“Wait a minute – got any money?”

“No, sir, I haven’t.”

“There’s a dollar.”

“But I’m not begging, sir,” dissented Hiram. “If I get work – ”

“You can hand it back pay day.”

Hiram came out with dancing eyes. He jumped up in the air, cracking his heels together. Then, out of sheer jubilation, he slapped Dave on the shoulder.

“I’ve got a job!” he cried.

“I’m very glad you have,” responded Dave heartily.

Hiram did not wait for any further talk. He started on a mad dash for the other end of the grounds. A man was coming around the corner of the little building, and Hiram very nearly ran into him. Dave had got up from the bench to venture upon seeing Mr. King, when the newcomer preceded him through the doorway. Dave considered that he was entitled to the next interview with the airman. The latest arrival, however, was so forcible and precipitate that Dave patiently resigned his chance.

The newcomer was very much excited. He was an old man, smart looking, but very fat and fussy. Dave heard him break out in a stirring tone with the words:

“It’s come, Mr. King.”

“Oh, you mean – ah, yes,” replied the airman, “your parachute suit?”

“Yes, a perfect full-sized one. See here, you know what I want. You said you were very much interested in my patent.”

“That’s the truth, Mr. Dixon.”

“And that you would give it a trial.”

“I will, later. See here, my friend, I am engaged all day to-day.”

“Why, the meet is over?”

“Yes, but I have a contract for a private exhibition. There’s good money in it, and I can’t disappoint my people.”

“How’s the next day?”

“I’ve got to go to the Dayton grounds to get ready for the opening day at that meet. Tell you, Mr. Dixon, bring your device up to Dayton, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“I am anxious to make a practical test right away.”

“There’s lots of the fellows here who will help you out.”

“Yes, and make a blunder, and queer my whole business. No, sir! The man who won the endurance prize is the man for me, and your recommendation would be worth more to me than that of any ten men in the aviation line.”

“Why don’t you make the trial yourself, Mr. Dixon?” inquired the airman.

“Oh, yes!” laughed the old inventor, “I’d be a fine performer with my clumsy bungling in an airship and my two hundred pounds, wouldn’t I!”

“That’s so. You had better pick out a lightweight for the first trial.”

“Where will I find one?” spoke Mr. Dixon in a musing tone. “You see, I don’t expect a long drop on the first test. You know Boisan never ran his biplane without wearing his padded helmet. All that can do, though, is to break the shock of a fall. My parachute isn’t on the pad order at all, nor to prevent a fall.”

“What does it do, then?” asked Mr. King.

“It reduces the rate of the drop and lands the wearer safe and sound. The suit is a loose flowing garment fitted to a framework carried on the back. The lower ends are secured to the ankles. When the aviator throws out his arms, the garment spreads out like an umbrella. I am satisfied if you once see my parachute dress work, you will give a good word for it that will make it a success.”

“Well, Mr. Dixon,” replied the airman, “if you are anxious to have a trial on the field here, I’ll find some one to give it a show, under my direction. I hardly know where I will get my man, but I can probably pick him up somewhere about the field. It’s a risky experiment, though.”

Dave Dashaway arose from the bench. Afterwards he wondered at his audacity, but just at that moment he could not resist the quick impulse that seized him.

He stepped through the doorway and turning past a half partition, faced the two men whose overheard conversation had so interested him.

“Mr. King,” he said taking off his cap, and his heart beating rapidly at his own temerity, “I would like to try that experiment.”

CHAPTER XII

A NEW FRIEND

“Why, who are you?” exclaimed Mr. King.

Dave stood somewhat awed at being in the presence of the famous aeronaut for the first time. He was embarrassed at his own boldness. Yet he managed to blurt out:

“I have been trying to get to you for two days.”

Mr. King stared at Dave in a wondering way. He looked him over from head to foot. Dave was not disappointed in the impression made upon him by the aviator. Mr. King was a man with a keen, clean-cut face and well-knit frame. There was a look of decision and business in his clear eye. As he smiled, there was also a genial, indulgent expression to his lips that won Dave.

“Oh, I think I understand,” spoke Mr. King slowly. “I suppose you are another applicant for a job. Heard I’d fired my assistant and all that. I didn’t think that news had traveled so fast and far.”

“Why, no, sir,” said Dave quickly. “I knew nothing about what you speak of until a few minutes ago.”

“Then – ”

“I have been seeking you to find out if you lost some property out of an airship near Brookville, about sixty miles from here, three nights ago.”

“Eh, what’s that?” cried the airman, starting up into an attitude of attention and surprise.

“There was a sweater,” continued Dave, “and a pocket book with fifty dollars in it, and a watch and a medal.”

“What about it – what about it?” demanded Mr. King quite excitedly. “The medal, I mean. The rest of the stuff doesn’t matter.”

“Did you lose what I said, sir?” asked Dave.

“Yes, yes!”

“Near Brookville?”

“I sailed over Brookville the night you tell about,” replied the airman. “I missed the sweater that I had rolled my valuables in just as I got back here. Of course I didn’t know exactly where I lost it.”

“Well,” said Dave, “I found it – ”

“Good!”

“I started to bring it to you, for I saw your name on the medal, and had heard all about you.”

“Then you’ve got the medal, have you?” asked Mr. King eagerly and expectantly, starting up from his chair.

“I am sorry to say I haven’t, Mr. King,” replied Dave regretfully. “I started for here to return the property to you and lost it.”

“Lost it?”

“That is, I was robbed.”

“By whom?”

“A boy in a lodging house where I stayed night before last.”

“But you know the thief?”

“Only by description,” replied Dave.

“Why didn’t you inform the police?”

Dave paled slightly, and then flushed up. The airman was eyeing him keenly. The old inventor looked suspicious, too.

“Mr. King,” at length spoke Dave, “I am a runaway from home.”

“Hum!” commented Mr. Dixon dryly.

“I had to run away from home,” continued Dave desperately. “It’s a long story. There’s a heap to tell, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t interest you, sir. When I found myself robbed, I thought the best thing to do was to come and tell you all I could. I’m awfully sorry I was so careless.”

“See here,” interrupted Mr. King, in a generous way, placing a reassuring hand on Dave’s shoulder, “don’t say that again. You’ve done all you could, and I thank you for it. Mr. Dixon,” he went on, glancing at his watch, “I am going to have a mighty busy morning, and I want you to excuse me for a while.”

“All right,” nodded the inventor, though rather glumly, arising to his feet.

“I’ll be around the field all day, and be glad to see you and talk to you about trying your invention any time after noon.”

“Oh, that’s good,” bowed Mr. Dixon, brightening up. Then he fixed his eye on Dave, and said: “I believe this young man made some remark about helping us out, when he first appeared on the scene.”

“Say, you’re a regular old ogre, Dixon!” railed the airman. “You look as hungry as one, wanting to make this lad your first victim. I shan’t recommend anybody, nor furnish anybody to try your parachute dress, until I am perfectly satisfied he won’t come to any harm.”

“When you do, Mr. King,” broke in Dave, “I’d like a chance to show my confidence in you by trying the umbrella suit.”

“All right. I’m to see you after dinner,” said the old inventor leaving the room.

“Now then, my lad,” spoke the aviator briskly, “sit down. I want to talk to you.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Dave gladly.

“I want you to tell me your whole story. I have an idea it is going to interest me. First, your name?”

“It’s Dave Dashaway.”

“Dashaway?” repeated Mr. King, with a slight start and a look in his eyes as though he was searching his memory.

“Yes, sir, my father was a professional balloonist. Maybe you have heard of him.”

“Heard of him!” cried the aviator, with new interest. “I should say I have. And read of him. Why, he was a pioneer in advanced aeronautics. And you are his son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me all about it.”

Dave looked into the kindly, sympathetic eyes of his new acquaintance feeling sure that he had found a true friend. He told the story of his life simply. As he tried to make it brief, his auditor more than once checked him as if every detail interested him.

“You are a brave, deserving young fellow, Dashaway,” said the airman heartily. “I have you to thank for putting me on the track of that lost medal, which I value beyond price.”

“Do you think there is any chance of your getting it back?” inquired Dave anxiously.

“I am sure of it. I want you to come with me down to the field office. In the meantime think up the closest description possible of the fellow who stole it. Here,” added the airman pointing to a little writing table. “Just sit down there and jot it down as clear and brief as you can.”

Dave did as directed, while Mr. King explained:

“The thief won’t value the medal. He will probably sell that and the watch for what they are worth as gold. I intend to telegraph to the police at Brompton to keep an eye out for the thief and to offer a reward for the medal.”

Mr. King bustled about the room, and put on another coat and took some papers from a satchel, and acted as if about to start out on business.

“Why, I was just going to the hotel to see you,” he said suddenly, as a newcomer appeared on the scene. “Ready for business?”

“Oh, yes,” was the prompt reply, and the latest visitor stepped into the room where Dave sat. “Why, hello – friend of yours, Mr. King?”

“What, do you know young Dashaway?”

“Very pleasantly, too,” answered Mr. Alden, the manager of the moving picture outfit, for Dave recognized him at once as that person. “He helped us out of a tight box yesterday.”

“You didn’t tell me about that, Dashaway,” remarked the aviator.

“There was so much else to tell,” explained Dave.

“Well,” proceeded the motion picture man, “I’ve been thinking of you, my lad. How would you like to work for me right along?”

“What’s that?” broke in Mr. King, in his quick, jerky way. “No, you can’t have him.”

“Eh?” questioned Alden, with a stare, “why not?”

“Because I’m thinking of hiring him myself,” replied the aviator.

CHAPTER XIII

A START IN BUSINESS

Dave Dashaway trembled with excitement and pleasure. He was proud and glad the way things had turned out. The aviator noticed the happy look on his face, and nodded encouragingly.

“All right,” spoke Mr. Alden. “I see you’ve got first show. Trouble is, our man we depended on, a fellow named Banks, failed us yesterday, and I guess he won’t show up in time for the airship pictures. He is the only one in our crowd who will do what we call the desperate stunts.”

“What do you call those?” inquired the airman.

“Oh, Banks is a regular acrobat. He’s the man who falls down stairs and gets knocked around in the funny pictures, and jumps from the seaside cliff or is blown up by dynamite in the tragic ones.”

“I see.”

“Now, like yesterday. The hero had to rescue the drowning heroine in the roaring mill stream. Our young friend here happened along in the nick of time, and did the stunt nobly. None of the rest of the crowd could even swim – this young fellow can, like a fish.”

“And now you expect him to fly?”

“Hardly that,” was the laughing rejoinder, “but in your exhibition we want to bring in the usual little incidents to make an interesting story, you know, and Getaway here – ”

“You mean Dashaway.”

“Yes, he could work in famously.”

“Well, we will see about it,” said Mr. King. “How would you want to begin the pictures?”

“The outfit will be here inside of an hour.”

“I will be on hand,” promised the aviator. “Come with me, Dashaway. I want to get that telegram to the city.”

Dave felt as if he was treading on air. It was in fact the supreme moment of his young life. He did not feel that he had done any grand things, but telling the truth and doing his level best had put him in line with very promising prospects.

Mr. King hurried along with his brisk, bustling way, absorbed in the business on his mind. When they reached the office of the grounds, he beckoned Dave to follow him into the little compartment that answered for a telegraph office.

“Give me the description you wrote out,” he said. “Good for you, Dashaway,” he added with satisfaction, as he ran his eye over the words Dave had written. “You cover it well. With that tell-tale scar on his face, I think the young rascal who robbed you will be easy to find. All I care for, though, is the medal. He will probably sell that and the watch to some pawnbroker, and a liberal reward will lead the police to find them for me.”

“My losing those things is going to cost you a lot of money, Mr. King,” said Dave regretfully.

“And suppose that sweater of mine had been found by some dishonest person, or trampled down out of sight in the mud? No, no, Dashaway, I count it a big thing, you’re giving me my first hope of recovering the medal.”

Mr. King wrote out a lengthy telegram, ordering it sent, left some instructions with the operator, and went outside again.

Here he was immediately surrounded by half a dozen persons. Among them were newspaper reporters seeking information as to the aviator’s plans for the next coming aero meet at Dayton. Professional airmen wanted to discuss the programme ahead. Some agents with airship supplies took up some of his time. It was half an hour before Mr. King got rid of his company. Then he came up to Dave, his watch in his hand.

“See here, Dashaway,” he spoke, “I want to ask you a question.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Dave attentively.

“Do you want to go to work for me?”

“Do I! – ” faltered Dave. “It’s been my dream ever since I heard of you.”

“Good enough. You’re engaged. Go down to the hangars and wait till I come. Hold on,” halting Dave, as he started to obey orders. “I want to say a word. I call it all opportunity, the queer way you have run into my affairs. I like your make up. The last assistant I had played me mean. He’ll lose by it. I’m willing to do a good deal for a fellow who will be loyal to his business. I put big faith in you. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Say,” began Dave in a great gulp, and he could not bring the words out, he was so worked up.

“I know what you would say,” spoke the airman quickly. “Never feel any different about it than you do at this moment, and there will be no regrets.”

“There’s only one thing troubles me, Mr. King,” observed Dave.

“What’s that?”

“My guardian. I ran away from home.”

“Good for you. From what you tell me, that miserly old rascal, Warner, won’t waste any time or money hunting you up. If he does, I think I know how to handle him.”

Dave started down the field so filled with joy that he could have shouted out aloud. Up to this time his mind had been so occupied with affairs outside of airships, that he had found no opportunity to view those he had seen in detail. Now he seemed to be a part of the great unique activity surrounding him on every side.

“It’s wonderful, it’s grand!” he mused. “Oh, to think of my luck! And the friends I’ve met with!”

Dave’s eyes filled with grateful tears. He felt as if suddenly he had found his right place in life and a real home. The thought that he was to see, survey and perhaps handle a real airship thrilled him with gladness.

“It will be like getting into some palace of wonders,” he reflected, “and the grand chance to learn from the star man of them all, Mr. King.”

Dave hurried by many a group surrounding aeroplane models that would have halted him usually. He was anxious to get to the hangars. He had not yet examined the crack monoplane belonging to his employer. He knew its name, the Aegis, and had got a mere glimpse at its outlines. Now he was free to look it all over.

“Hold on there!”

To make a short cut to the hangars, Dave had passed between a part of the grandstand and a building where refreshments had been sold during full attendance at the meet. There were not many people around just there, and this short cut took Dave into a still more lonely space.

Some one had come up behind him, butted into him forcibly, and sent him up against a wooden platform.

“I want to speak to you,” sounded a voice strange to Dave.

“You’ve got a nice way of introducing yourself,” began Dave, turning around with some asperity. “Hello, I know you.”

“Do? Then there’s no need of any explanations,” jeered his assailant.

Dave recognized the latter instantly. It was Jerry Dawson, the boy whose father had visited Mr. King less than two hours previously. Dave had seen this youth only once before. It had been at a distance, too. He knew that sullen, scowling face, however, at once.

The boy was taller and older than Dave. He was stockily built, and strong. He stood with his fists raised, blocking Dave in against the platform.

“What do you want?” demanded the latter.

“I want to ask you a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Have you gone to work for King?”

“What if I have?”

“Then you’ve landed in the wrong box, I can tell you that. I’ll stand no fellow cutting in on my rights.”

“What do you call your rights?” inquired Dave calmly.

“I’ve worked for King ever since the season began. I’ve slaved for him and helped him get the endurance prize.”

“Indeed?” remarked Dave trying to suppress a smile.

“Now he’s in a muff. He knows he can’t get along without me, but he’s stubborn, and so am I. You leave him alone, and don’t cut in on my job, or I’ll make it warm for you.”

“What do you expect I’m going to do?” inquired Dave.

“Has King hired you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re going to start in with him?”

“I am.”

“After what I tell you?”

“Yes, that won’t make any difference,” said Dave.

“Then I’m going to whip you.”

“All right.”

“You won’t take a warning.”

“Not from you.”

“Look out!”

Dave determined to defend himself. He was no match for the big overgrown bully, but he was cornered, and it was not in his nature to show the white feather on any occasion.

“You’re bigger than I,” said Dave, backing to a firmer footing, “but I won’t let you or anybody else browbeat me without cause.”

“And I’m bigger than either of you!” roared an intruding voice. “You young bully, make yourself scarce, or I’ll pick you up by the nape of your neck and drop you into that mud puddle over yonder!”

CHAPTER XIV

HIS FIRST AIRSHIP RIDE

Dave recognized the newcomer on the scene as Hiram Dobbs, his companion during his first visit to the hangars. The latter had appeared like magic through a near open doorway of the temporary restaurant building.

Hiram had said he was bigger than Jerry Dawson. He now proved that he was also stronger. He grasped the surprised bully by the arm, gave him a swing, and sent him slamming up against the side of the nearest building.

“Get out of here,” he ordered, “or I’ll run you out.”

The discomfited bully scowled frightfully at Dave’s champion. He made a move to seize a brick and hurl it. Then he changed his mind as Hiram started on a run for him.

“There’s a bully for you,” announced the country boy, stooping to pick up a little box he had placed on the ground when he ran to Dave’s rescue. “Good thing I just happened around.”

“Yes, he acted pretty vicious,” replied Dave. “He’s mad because he’s lost his place, and wants to scare me off from taking it.”

“Don’t you let him do it.”

“I won’t.”

“So you got a job with Mr. King?” questioned Hiram, his face lengthening a trifle.