by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER II
THE TRAMP ARTIST
“Somebody is trying to blow us up again!” shouted Hiram, in a greatstate of excitement.
That word “again” meant just what the young airman apprentice intendedthat it should. As we have already said, the two chums were no novicesin the strange line of business activity they had taken up to earn aliving. They had not only shared triumphs and gains, but many a perilbesides. There had instantly come to Hiram’s mind, and to that of DaveDashaway as well, on the present occasion a memory of past deeds ofjealousy, hatred and cunning on the part of unprincipled rivals, wherefire and powder were used in destructive and dangerous work.
There had been no lights in the hangar since the night before, its onlyoccupant that the boys knew of was the tramp-artist they hadaccommodated. As both noticed a little puff of smoke shoot out througha ventilating pipe in the roof of the structure, they were sure thatsomething had blown up, or had been blown up.
Hiram and Dave were greatly anxious. Inside that hangar were twomachines valued as an expert horseman would cherish his pet steeds, ora crack motorist his favorite automobile. Particularly was Dave’slatest acquisition, the _Ariel_, to which Hiram had referred soproudly, a possession that the young birdman treasured. The active fearthat this might have sustained some damage spurred him to hasten on andsee what had happened.
It was by no easy or accidental route that Dave Dashaway had reachedhis present position as an aviator. It had been no path of roses forhim. In the first book of this series, entitled “Dave Dashaway, TheYoung Aviator,” his struggles and initial triumphs have been depicted.He found a good friend in one Robert King, a man of some means, and byhard study and practice Dave won his laurels as a professional.
In the second volume, called “Dave Dashaway And His Hydroplane,” thefurther progress of the ambitious young airman is recited. His fatherhad been a scientist and balloonist. The cooperation of one of his oldassociates proved a wonderful aid to Dave, and he went through somestirring experiences both up in the air and on the water.
“Dave Dashaway And His Giant Airship,” was the medium for telling ofDave’s breaking of many aviation records. In that book the flight ofthe dirigible _Albatross_, involved a fascinating series of discoveriesand adventures. The last preceding book of the series, “Dave DashawayAround The World,” describes a daring race for a rich prize, whichDave, with the willing aid of his young friends, won, honorablydefeating all competitors.
Hiram Dobbs, a young aero enthusiast, Dave had picked up accidentally.It proved to be a lucky “find.” Crude, impetuous though he might be,Hiram was not only a loyal friend, but developed great efficiency as asort of understudy of the chum and employer whom he looked up to as theideal champion of the aviation world.
As the young airman had put it, he and his good-natured andwell-intentioned assistant were now “taking a rest.” They had come toMidlothian, a practice field of a Mississippi river city, to be nearseveral points where exhibition aviation features were in progress. Mr.Brackett had been the mainstay, financially, of Dave all through hisprofessional career. It was true that the young aviator had essentiallywon his own way and had helped to make famous the output of theInterstate Aero Company, of which Mr. Brackett was practically theowner. Still, Dave felt that all he had gained had been through theencouragement and assistance of the manufacturer. As a matter of fact,Dave deferred greatly to the opinion and direction of this valuablefriend. He had been expecting his arrival daily at the Midlothiangrounds, to talk over the situation and prospects for future work.
“Whew!” ejaculated Hiram, as he pulled open the door of the hangar, andrushed in. “Fire!”
“No, only smoke,” corrected Dave—“and not much of that, lucky for us!”
“I say!” cried his companion in an exasperated tone as he went spinningoff his feet. Contact with an indistinct, wildly-rushing human form hadcaused this. There had been a smoky haze inside the hangar that had hidthe aroused sleeper from clear view. Now, however, the tramp wasplainly visible. He looked startled and scared and he was nursing thefingers of his left hand in the palm of the other.
“What’s happened—are you hurt?” inquired Dave.
“Whew! Well—why, oh, it’s only a little burn, but—catch the rascal!”
As the speaker finished the rapidly shouted sentence he dashed towardsthe fence. Upon this the rear of the hangar backed. The tramp wasquick, and as nimble as a monkey as he ran at the fourteen-footbarrier. One of its slanting supports carried him within reach of thebracing stringer. He lifted himself to this. From the ground theaeroplane boys could see him bobbing his head about among the barbedwire runners, strung along on top of the fence, as if to catch a viewof a vacant field beyond.
The tramp yelled out some disjointed words, and shook his fist angrily,as if after a scurrying fugitive. Then he slid down to the ground andfaced Dave and Hiram, panting and excited.
“He made off—he got away!” the tramp ejaculated. “Too bad! I’m so big Icouldn’t get through that window.”
“What window?” inquired Hiram.
“Cut in the fence that makes the rear of the hangar,” was explained.“Come in. Let me show you.”
Dave cast a hurried glance about the interior of the hangar as heentered it. Except that the little door which protected the rear windowopening was out of place, everything seemed in order. Their trampfriend, however, had stooped over near the _Ariel_.
“Look here,” he said, and the boys, crowding nearer to him, noticedthat he held in his hand the crisped, blackened end of what resembled afuse.
“Where does it lead to?” asked the startled Hiram.
Very gingerly the tramp ran eye and hand along the sinister-lookingfuse. He seemed to locate its end as he reached under a corner of theairplane.
“Better get it outside,” he suggested, and the boys saw that he hadunearthed a round box-like object resembling a dry electric battery.The fuse ran to its center. The tramp carried it outside, set it downin the grass at a safe distance from the hangar, and observed:
“Better soak it in a pail of water before you handle it much. Thosethings are dangerous; very much so! If I don’t mistake, you’ll findit’s dynamite.”
“Then some one’s up to a mean trick again!” cried the excitable Hiram,unable to repress himself. “Dave, you’re not going to stand this; areyou?”
“Why, Hiram,” responded Dave quietly, “we don’t yet know our bearings.Maybe it’s a joke——”
“Joke! Joke!” fairly yelled Hiram. “Yes, the same kind of a joke asthat fellow Vernon played on us when he stole the _Comet_ at theWashington aero meet. Or like that partner of his, who dropped a steelhook on the biplane purposely to wreck us.”
Hiram had named the enemy the boys, according to past experience, hadmost to fear. Dave, however, was not wont to jump at hasty conclusions.He did not do so in the present instance. He put aside unprovensuspicion for the time being.
“We had better make an investigation, and find out all we can,” Davesuggested. “You said your name was Borden, I believe?” he observed tothe tramp.
“That’s it—Roving Borden, they call me. I was Henry, in my respectabledays.”
“Very good, Mr. Borden, now please tell us what you know of thisaffair,” Dave requested.
“I’m a pretty sound sleeper,” narrated the tramp, “especially in such afamous bunk as you kindly gave me. I’d slept so long, though, that Ifancy I was more easily awakened than usual. What I saw was donequickly. Some one must have forced in that shutter yonder. He had justput that thing we discovered under the edge of the balloon. The end ofthe fuse was spluttering as I woke up. I saw the fellow bolt throughthe window. Then I sprang up and grabbed the fuse. As I snapped it intwo, it sort of exploded. See where it burned me?” and the speakershowed his blackened fingers.
“Lucky for us you were on hand!” broke in Hiram.
“I believe this to be the w
ork of an enemy,” spoke Dave, rathersolemnly, after a moment’s deliberation. “Did you have a good look atthe fellow you saw go through the window, Mr. Borden?”
“I should say, I did!” exclaimed the tramp. “When a fellow gets wakedup suddenly and startled, like I was, everything hits his brain as ifit were a photograph camera. Say,” and the speaker half closed hiseyes, “I can see that rascal just as plain as day now. By the way, too,if I’m not mistaken I saw the very same individual hanging around theoutside of the grounds when I sneaked in last night.”
“Dave, I call this serious!” cried Hiram, aroused and indignant. “It’sa queer thing if we can’t have protection from the cowards who steal inon us when we’re not watching, and try to wreck our aircraft! I’llwager the stuff in that canister would blow a small mountain to pieces!”
“Guess I’d have gone up, too, if it was that bad,” remarked the trampwith a shiver.
Dave went to the window and examined it. The edges of the solid boardshutter showed the marks of some chisel, or other tool, used to pry itopen. Then the chums went outside. On the way Dave caught up a bundleof waste used in removing oil and grime from the machinery of the aircrafts, and a newspaper.
The others watched him in silence as he carefully wound up what wasleft of the fuse, and placed it and the canister, to which it wasattached, in the waste then, wrapping all in the newspaper, he said toHiram:
“I’m going down to the manager’s office.”
“Going to find out if that’s a real explosive; aren’t you?” inquiredHiram.
“Yes, that’s my purpose. If we find that it is, we can make up ourminds that the people we have had trouble with before are still on ourtrail. I fancied we’d beaten them off so many times they had now gottensick of such doings.”
“Oh, if it’s Vernon, or any of his crowd, they’re the kind that willkeep on pestering us to the last,” declared Hiram. “Be back soon, Dave.I’m all rattled, and anxious.”
The young birdman proceeded on his way. Hiram turned to the tramp, whohad manifested a decided interest in all that had taken place.
“We didn’t wake you up when we went down to the restaurant forbreakfast,” said Hiram. “You were sleeping so soundly it seemed a pityto disturb you.”
“You’re very good, both of you, to think of an old derelict like me,”was the reply, given with feeling.
“Why, you’ve done us a big turn,” responded Hiram, “so I guess you’vesquared things. I brought some eatables up from the café, and if you’rehungry——”
“Say, friend,” interrupted Borden in a serio-comic way—“I’m _always_hungry!”
“Then start with what there is,” directed Hiram, always glad to makeothers comfortable, as he spread the food out upon the bench near by.He watched their guest devour the viands with a relish that made himalmost wish for a second breakfast himself. The tramp bolted the lastmorsel, and breathed a sigh of genuine content.
“That fills a mighty hollow spot,” he observed. “Say, about the fellowthat tried to blow you up here—got a piece of chalk?”
“Why, no,” answered Hiram, noting that the speaker was viewing thesmooth side of the hangar as might an artist a blank canvas. “I supposeyou want to draw something,” guessed Hiram, recalling the artisticefforts of the evening previous.
“That’s it,” assented Borden. “It might sort of satisfy your curiosity,and maybe give you a hint, if I can furnish you with an idea of howthat blowing-up rascal looked.”
“Why, that’s a great idea!” cried Hiram. “Do it!”
“I want to get at it while the picture of the fellow is fresh in mymind,” went on Borden. “Here’s the very thing,” and he picked up thepaper that had held the morning lunch. “If I only had a black crayonnow, instead of my fine pencil——”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a carpenter’s pencil in our tool box,”suggested Hiram.
“Good! Get it, and a few brads, or tacks. Just the thing,” he added, asHiram, after a search in the hangar, brought out the articles named.
Borden proceeded to attach the sheet of manilla paper to the side ofthe hanger. He smoothed its surface with his hand, rubbed the broad endof the big pencil to a point on a brick he discovered, and rolled upone ragged sleeve with a certain affected, artistic twirl that setHiram laughing.
“That’s all right,” nodded the tramp indulgently. “I don’t look muchlike a cartoonist, but all the same I once traveled as a lightningcaricaturist. Heads are my specialty, and here goes for the fellow whocame so near to blowing out the lights for a budding genius!”
Hiram watched eagerly, from that moment, for the space of a quarter ofan hour. The faces Borden had quickly and crudely drawn on some cards,to amuse Dave and himself, and show off his accomplishments, theevening previous, had awakened the interest and admiration of the twolads. Now, however, Borden began to create, line by line, and curve bycurve, as perfect a human face as Hiram had even seen done by an expertcrayon artist.
“That’s him,” announced the artist, with a last touch of the pencil,and drawing back from the impromptu easel with a satisfied air.
He viewed his clever handiwork with a critical but gratified eye.
“Yes, it’s him,” went on Borden. “Thin, peaked chin, one wall eye.There you are! Just as good as if you’d got his picture from therogues’ gallery—where he belongs, if I don’t miss my guess.”
“Pshaw!” exclaimed his audience of one, in so decidedly a disappointedway, that the amateur artist knit his brows, and looked hurt.
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