Dave Dashaway Around the World: or, A Young Yankee Aviator Among Many Nations. Roy Rockwood
warrant! In the name of the law – ugh!”
The Comet gave a great sway. Its pilot dared not relax attention to his duties, but he shot a swift glance at the source of the outcry.
“The mischief!” uttered Hiram, in surprise and concern.
The big bulky constable was clinging to the machine body, his feet dangling, his face white and scared-looking, swaying helplessly except for his frantic hand-hold fifty feet above the ground!
CHAPTER II
AN INVOLUNTARY PASSENGER
Dave Dashaway’s assistant knew his business too well to attempt any rash or reckless change in the course of the biplane. At a glance Hiram had taken in the situation. In a flash he gave the right order.
“Help him – pull him in,” he directed.
“Yes, he’ll smash the wing and we’ll all go down in a heap if he hangs on there,” declared Elmer, quickly.
“Let me off! Let me off!” puffed and panted the constable. “Help! I’ll drop! Murder! I’m a goner!”
“Easy, officer!” cried out Hiram, in his clear, ringing tones. “Don’t get rattled or you’ll be gone, indeed.”
Elmer had grasped the arm of the clinging man. He had strapped himself into his seat, and this position assisted in giving him a tugging strength that counted for something. The white, scared face of the constable came nearer and nearer to him. Through great efforts the trespasser was hauled up over his center of balance, and he tumbled into the vacant seat all in a heap.
“Let down this balloon! I’ve got a warrant,” began the constable, breathlessly – “oogh!”
A whirl of the biplane sent the man banging against the side of the seat till his teeth rattled.
“Strap him in,” called out Hiram, “if he don’t want to get a spill.”
“Oh, my! Stop! Please stop! Let me out!”
Meantime Elmer had snapped the belt in place. It was well that he had acted speedily. The Comet made a switch just there which caused the involuntary passenger to tremble with terror, yell outright, and crouch back in his seat.
Hiram directed a smooth volplane and made an even spurt of speed on a set level. This gave the intruder a chance to steady his nerves and regain his breath. He was still, however, big-eyed and chattering. The young pilot dared not direct attention from his task of running the machine, but he managed to turn his face sideways so as to give Elmer a significant glance. The latter half smiled as he understood what was on the programme.
“Now, see here, officer,” spoke Hiram, past his shoulder, “I can’t give you any further attention than to tell you what to do. If the machine tips – ”
“Is there danger?” gasped the overcome constable. “Say, please go down! Easy, you know! P-please-p – please!”
“You had better show some sense,” retorted Hiram, with pretended sternness. “There is always danger of a spill. Don’t help it any.”
“N-no, I won’t,” chattered the officer. “I – I’ll do just what you tell me.”
“Then sit still and keep still. Elmer, get him into that airman armor. He’s pretty bulky, and if we take a flop – ”
“Br-rr-r!” shivered the unfortunate passenger. “Oh, don’t talk about it!”
“Get the aerodrome safety helmet on him,” pursued Hiram. “It will save his head if he tumbles.”
“Say, I don’t want to! You’ve got to stop! I’m an officer of the law and I order you to lower this balloon.”
“You want to drop, do you?” called back Hiram, “All right, if you say so, only – ”
“No! no! no!” fairly bellowed the constable, as the pilot described a manœuvre pretty near to accomplishing a “shoot-the-chutes” dive in aviation. “You know best. I’ll do as you say.”
He allowed Elmer to fasten on the helmet as the machine steadied. It made his big shock-haired head look bigger than ever.
“Now then, the felt safety buffers,” directed Hiram, and his willing accomplice bundled the passenger in between two thick pads covering chest and shoulders like a wad of pillows.
“He’d better have the earflaps and respirators if you’re going up into the rarefied air,” suggested Elmer, solicitously.
“Don’t go! Say, I’m not well! This air is good enough for me,” remonstrated the constable.
“Now for the non-concussion girdle,” ordered the merciless pilot.
Elmer was almost bursting with suppressed merriment. He was so sure that Hiram knew his business and that no real danger was imminent in that calm air with a perfect head breeze, that he enjoyed the occasion immensely.
By this time their frantic fellow passenger resembled a diver, swathed as he was in thick leather safety devices crowned with steel. Muffled up and helpless, he squirmed, groaned and closed his eyes with a sickening shudder every time he glanced over the edge of the machine. The unusual sight of the earth fading away, the swift passage of the landscape, fairly chilled him.
For five or ten minutes the passenger was content to remain mute, trying to realize and become accustomed to his unexpected condition. The machine had a duplicate control system. That is, the rudder wires ran to the right hand second seat as well as to that of the pilot. This made it possible for Hiram to confine his attention exclusively to spark and throttle control, while his assistant could cooperate as to the steering gear whenever the tail trailed heavily. Elmer, too, could cooperate in the aileron and elevator control, and the flight settled down to a smooth, perfect rush through the atmosphere.
“Ahem,” ventured their passenger as he regained his scattered wits. He spoke in a vague, uncertain tone. “I told you that I had a warrant and I want to explain – whew!”
Hiram Dobbs was bound to shut off the passenger from any official complication of matters. His eye had been fixed to a row of hills ten miles distant. He had marked out his course and he had a definite destination in view. Just now he stirred up the officer considerably with a new joggling twist of the machine, just as he had planned to do. The fright of the constable was renewed. He forgot what he had started to say.
“What’s the programme?” whispered Elmer, bending over close to the ear of the pilot.
“I want to get you to a point of safety before that fellow has a chance to read that warrant of his,” was the low-toned reply.
“I see; but how are you going to work it?” questioned Elmer, in some perplexity.
“Leave that to me,” returned Hiram, in a confident way.
“Yes, I’m going to.”
“I want to get beyond the ridge ahead – in fact, as far away from our starting point as I can.”
“I want to explain,” here again broke in their passenger. “I’ve got a document here – ”
There he stopped. Hiram had to laugh and Elmer chuckled. The constable made several ineffectual efforts to reach a pocket in his coat. The muffling devices he wore prevented him. He was like a man encased in a suit of armor.
“Never mind the document,” said Hiram. “Just tell us what it’s about.”
“It’s a warrant, and it charges this young man with trespassing on the property of a farmer with an airship. The complainant has a legal right, ipse dixit, to claim malicious intent, which makes it a criminal offense.”
“I thought so. Pretty flimsy,” remarked Hiram. “They’ve raked up some trifle to give that miserable Vernon an excuse to keep you in court for a week or more. All right officer,” he added, “read your warrant.”
“How can I read it when I can’t get my hands with these pesky things on them anywhere near my pocket?” demanded the