Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship: or, A Marvellous Trip Across the Atlantic

“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 Gossamer. 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.

CHAPTER 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 Gossamer 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.

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.”

“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 Gossamer 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.

“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 Gossamer 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.”

“I’ll go and see who it is.”

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