Dave Dashaway, Air Champion: or, Wizard Work in the Clouds. Roy Rockwood
advertising literature with interest.
“Why, Dave,” he cried, glancing over the list of prizes offered, and the programme outlined for a three days’ meet, “you surely won’t let this slip by?”
“I wish very much to enter,” was the reply. “Of course, though, that depends on what Mr. Brackett says.”
Hiram showed his impatience and suspense.
“See here!” he cried, “you can’t wait on anything so indefinite as his coming here, maybe in a day; maybe in a week.”
“I don’t intend to wait,” remarked Dave. “In fact, I telegraphed him this morning, after I had thought things over, giving him an idea of the importance and scope of the meet. Here’s his answer, which I received not half an hour since.”
Hiram took the open telegram tendered by his chum. It read:
“Will be with you to-morrow morning.”
“Hurrah!” shouted the irrepressible Hiram, in his delight hopping from one foot to the other. “Oh, Dave, I feel in my bones that you are going to make the hit of your life!”
CHAPTER VI
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
“Go in by all means, Dave.”
It was Mr. Brackett, the aircraft manufacturer, who spoke, and never was a decision more welcome to boyish ears than this announcement. Prompt with his engagement, as was his business rule, the President of the Interstate Aero Company had arrived at the Midlothian grounds at eight o’clock in the morning, of the day succeeding Hiram’s adventure with the Scout.
There had been warm greetings, for Dave felt deeply grateful to the wealthy manufacturer who had so advanced his interests. His impetuous assistant was equally responsive. As to Mr. Brackett, it had been a great satisfaction for him to realize that his young protégés had not only made good the promise of their early professional career, but had largely been the means of popularizing the machines turned out at his plant.
He had listened to all that Dave had to say, had gone over the papers sent from the promoters of the International meet at Chicago, had considered for a few moments, and then had settled the matter of Dave’s participation in the six words above noted. Hiram’s eyes sparkled. A dazzling picture of new fame and sure success came into his imaginative mind.
“I’ve got to say something or bust, Mr. Brackett!” he exploded. “I hardly slept last night for thinking of it all. Why, where should Dave be but in the front ranks at Chicago? A first-class prize meet would be second-class without the aviator who won the trans-Atlantic medal, and looped the loop at Philadelphia ahead of all the competitors, and invented all the new wrinkles in hydro-aeroplane work at Cape May, and – ”
“There, there, Hiram – that will do,” interrupted Dave, but smiling indulgently. “From the entrants’ list they send us there will be no ordinary talent at the Chicago meet and no worn-out stunts will pass. We’ve got to better ourselves and prepare for real work, if we expect to make a showing.”
“You’ve got the last word, the real finishing touch in the Ariel, Dave,” reminded Mr. Brackett.
“I appreciate that, yes, indeed,” responded the young airman warmly, and with pride. “And it means half the battle.”
“I suppose you can realize our interest in this meet,” continued Mr. Brackett. “If the Ariel wins, it standardizes our new model in a manner, and means thousands of dollars in effective advertising for the Interstate Aero Company.”
“I’m going to do my level best,” Dave assured him, and he was so stirred with hope, faith and eagerness that he paced about restlessly. “There are some points I am sure of – distance flights, altitude and speed. None of them can meet the Ariel there. The stunt programme, though, is another thing. I want to study up on that and practice, and I would like to have a talk with the managers at Chicago as soon as possible.”
“Just what I was about to suggest, Dave,” said Mr. Brackett. “I don’t see anything gained by your staying here at the Midlothian grounds. In fact, after what you tell me of the explosion yesterday morning, I strongly advise making a move. Has that tramp friend of yours shown up?”
“No, he hasn’t reported, as I expected he would,” replied Dave rather disappointedly, and the manufacturer looked thoughtful as though entertaining some suspicions. Hiram broke in with the words:
“He’s true blue, though, Mr. Brackett; I’ll vouch for him! If he hasn’t got to us yet, it’s because he hasn’t found any trace of the man he’s after.”
“And have you no idea as to the motive for the attempt to destroy the Ariel?” asked the manufacturer.
“I have!” cried Hiram in his usual forcible way. “When we come to trace this thing down, we will certainly find that it goes back to that schemer, Vernon, who has made us so much trouble in the past.”
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