Dave Dashaway, Air Champion: or, Wizard Work in the Clouds

The diamond thief had undoubtedly smashed the window of the old hut at Wayville to throw his plunder into an obscure hiding place. The jeweler was faithful as to the payment of the promised reward. Then, when the business of the meet was over Dave had gone on a little trip of his own.

The young aviator was about fifteen miles from his destination, when a swift biplane he had noticed casually, crossed for the second time in front of him and made a sudden flight aloft. Then it swung around, followed the same course the Ariel was pursuing and, putting on full speed, got directly above him.

“That’s a queer maneuver,” observed Dave, and the words had scarcely left his lips when there shot down a dark object with a sputtering sparkling spot of fire in its center. It struck the tail of the Ariel, rebounded, descended perhaps a hundred feet and exploded in mid air.

“Meant for me!” cried Dave, “but why? Who is this new enemy – ”

A yell fell upon the ears of the astonished pilot of the Ariel. It proceeded from above. Dave ventured one glance overhead. He was truly startled.

The rival biplane was in flames. The pilot had given the wheel a wrench, and as the machine went hurtling down, not thirty feet above the Ariel, he tore himself from his seat and jumped.

Like a shot he struck the Ariel cockpit rail, and, helpless, crippled, and apparently insensible, began to slip across the wings. Dave reached for him and pulled him into the machine.

“Just in time!” he breathed, his mind in a tumult.

Only by a dexterous movement did Dave save the aeroplane from capsizing for his momentary inattention to the wheel and the shock of the falling body had nearly wrecked the machine. His involuntary passenger did not move. The other biplane fell earthwards all aflame.

Dave had no idea as to the identity of his baffled enemy, whom he decided must have been hurt by striking the metal edge of the cockpit. He made for the International grounds and landed directly in font of the Ariel hangar.

“Help me get a man out,” he directed Hiram, who stood awaiting the descent.

“What’s up now, Dave?” inquired his assistant, leaning over and looking into the cockpit. “Why, say – it’s Vernon!”

Dave was greatly startled. Into his mind flashed the truth. Filled with malice and revenge because he had lost a probably rich reward for putting through his infamous plottings, Vernon had essayed a final attack upon the young aviator.

“He tried to destroy the Ariel,” said Dave, “but he seems hurt. Phone for an ambulance, Hiram.”

Vernon was, indeed, hurt. Both of his arms were broken at the wrists. He would never drive an airship again.

Good came of Dave’s care for him, miscreant as he was. The old accomplices of Vernon abandoned him in his wretched plight, but Dave saw that he was given the best of care at a hospital.

Vernon broke down under this kind treatment. He not only confessed his share in the plots of the Syndicate, but betrayed the secrets of old Martin Dawson.

Not much of the Beresford fortune was wrested from that schemer, but at least Bruce Beresford had the satisfaction of so working out affairs that Dawson could no longer interfere with him or his little sister, Lois.

“You are a credit to your friends,” proclaimed Mr. Brackett, as he handed Dave Dashaway the ten thousand dollar check that represented the first grand prize of the International meet.

“And what lots of them he’s got!” cried Hiram Dobbs.

“I hope I’m somewhere on the list,” modestly intimated Bruce Beresford.

“Be sure of that,” was the hearty reply. “So much so, that, when we start in for new triumphs, next season, I hope to enroll you as one of the crew of the Ariel,” said Dave.

“Fine!” cried Bruce. “That would suit me down to the ground – to become an airman like you, Mr. Dashaway.”

“You can’t become an airman like Dave,” broke in Hiram, loyally. “There isn’t a man that flies who can come up to him. He’s the champion, and in a class by himself.”

“And that’s the truth,” added Mr. Brackett. “There is only one Dave Dashaway.”

“Then I propose three cheers for him!” cried Bruce.

“Whoop! Hurray! That’s the talk!” burst out Hiram. And then the cheers were given with vigor, and a “tiger” was added.

And here let us say good-bye to Dave Dashaway, Air Champion.

THE END