Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds

by Roy Rockwood

  CHAPTER IV

  THE UNDER DOG

  “I’m not going to stand that!” suddenly shouted Hiram, and he started aspiral descent, on the spur of the moment.

  The young airman was warm-hearted and impulsive. Hiram was usually inthe midst of any “scrimmage” going on in his vicinity, but it wasgenerally when his sympathy, or chivalry, were aroused from interest inothers. Just now all that was manly in him awakened his naturalchampionship of “the under dog in a fight.”

  Just below him was a wide swampy spot, and about forty feet from thesolid land, edging it on one side, were two men. One of them, portlyand mean-faced, was waving a cane and shouting angrily at a youngercompanion. This individual was wading stumblingly towards him. His feetwere mired in the soft, mushy soil, and the water came up to his waist.

  Upon a little swamp-island was a ragged, barefooted boy of aboutsixteen. He had a broad piece of tree bark in his hand. This he wasusing as a scoop. Dipping it down in the black, watery mire near theedge of the swamp, he would lift it aloft. Then with a dash and a swinghe would fling it at the retreating man in the water.

  At a glance Hiram read the situation. The boy looked like ahalf-starved runaway. The old man resembled some cruel relative, orguardian. He was in a fury. Suddenly he seized a flat stone at hisfeet, and sent it whizzing through the air. It landed against the boy’scheek, drawing the blood.

  “Now’s your chance—make for him!” cried the older man.

  His younger and mired helper half turned, but it was to find the boynot yet out of the ring. The latter staggered slightly under the blowhe had received, and the bark scoop dropped from his hand. He quicklypicked it up, however, and sent into the face of his returning foe adeluge of black, blinding muck. The man rubbed his eyes, veered aboutagain and made for the shore.

  The irate old man was brandishing his cane, and shouting. He seemed tobe censuring his defeated aide, who, dripping and bespattered, stooddisgustedly on dry land.

  “They’re trying to corner that boy, and he’s too plucky to let them,”decided Hiram. “There goes another stone. Good! it missed, and the boyis safe under cover.”

  The lad had slipped behind a tree, but he kept the scoop in his hand.The two men gesticulated and parleyed. Finally the old man pointedtoward a little settlement about a mile away. His companion started inthat direction. The old man mopped his head with his handkerchief. Thenhe sat down under the shade of a tree as if exhausted with rage and hisunusual exercise.

  “He’s sent for help; maybe for the police,” reflected Hiram. “Right orwrong, the boy looks in need of a friend. I’m going to know the ins andouts of this affair.”

  So far no one of the three persons in sight had caught a view of thedescending machine, so absorbed had they been in the conflict in whichthey were engaged. At the sound of the snort of the exhaust of theaeroplane, however, the barefooted lad started nervously, and looked up.

  The _Scout_ had landed in the middle of a clear spot edged by somebushes. Hiram who had some time since shut off the power, faced theastonished lad not twenty feet away from him.

  “Hello!” he hailed, leaping out, and advancing. “What’s the troublehere?”

  For a second or two the lad did not speak. The startling appearance ofairship and pilot seemed to benumb him. He looked appealingly at Hiram,as though trying to figure out whether his strange and unexpectedarrival meant help or harm. Then, something in the friendly face of thenewcomer seemed partially to reassure him. His wan face twitched andhis lips puckered.

  “I’m in trouble,” he said—“terrible trouble.”

  “Those men, I suppose?” questioned Hiram, pointing to the spot acrossthe watery space.

  “Yes, I’ve been on a run for hours, till I’m ready to drop. I thought Iwas safe here on this island, but they hunted me out. I’ve beenfighting them off for nearly an hour.”

  “Who are they, anyway?” asked Hiram.

  “That old man claims to be my uncle. The other fellow he sent to townto get a constable, and hunt me out, is one of the half a dozen bad menhe’s in with. Oh, he’s led me a terrible life! I just had to break awayfrom him. I couldn’t stand it any longer. Oh, is there any way to keepme out of their hands?”

  The speaker looked up in a beseeching way. The tears were running downhis wasted cheeks. Hiram was much stirred.

  “Say, I’ll do anything, any time, for a fellow in the fix you’re in, ifI believe he’s right!” he cried valiantly. “I think you are. That oldman has seen us now. Look at him rage.”

  By this time the older man, on the mainland, had caught sight of thenewcomer and of the machine that had brought Hiram to the rescue. Heleaped to his feet, and seized his cane. He ran, brandishing it, to theedge of the water.

  “Hey, say; you there!” he yelled. “Whoever you are, don’t you dare tointerfere. The law will soon be here, and attend to that young rascal.”

  “Yes, it will be all over for me when the constable comes,” choked outthe lad by Hiram’s side. “Please, please help me, if you can! I don’tcare for myself. It’s my little sister. They could hammer me, and I’dgrin and bear it, but when they began on her I simply had to get away.”

  “Little sister—what? Where?” inquired Hiram, in perplexity.

  “Look there,” was the response, and the boy parted some bushes. Hiramuttered a wondering and a pitying cry, as he looked over the shoulderof his guide and saw a little girl, not more than four years of age.She was lying asleep on the dry grass, her head pillowed on a coat,evidently belonging to the lad, her brother. Her attire was as torn andthreadbare as his own. Her face showed tear stains and exhaustion.

  “Oh, dear! Dear!” murmured the pitying Hiram at the sight of suchforlorn misery.

  “If you don’t think I’m telling you the truth, just look there!” criedthe lad brokenly, and he leaned over and gently pulled loose the poorthin dress covering the child. Across her shoulders were half a dozendark welts.

  “That man over there did that,” sobbed the barefooted boy. “Wouldn’tyou run away for that? Wouldn’t you want to hit that mean man overyonder, if he treated a sister of yours that way?”

  Hiram Dobbs fired up in a flash. He ran forward and shook his fist atthe man in view. Then he looked in the direction of the town. Themessenger sent thither was out of sight. Hiram cooled down.

  “That fellow will soon be back with the officers of the law,” he said.“We mustn’t lose any time, I suppose. Do you know what that is?” hequestioned his companion, pointing to the _Scout_.

  “It’s an airship; isn’t it?” asked the boy. “I’ve seen one or two ofthem before.”

  “Yes, it’s a biplane,” explained Hiram. “There’s a second seat in it,but it can’t carry a very heavy load, but I am sure, though, it willhold you and your sister. Pick up that poor little thing and I’ll showyou how to get aboard. You’re not afraid?” he questioned.

  “Me? No. I’d jump aboard a balloon if it would get little Lois safe outof the clutches of old Martin Dawson!” cried the lad.

  The little girl stirred and moaned, as her brother lifted her in hisarms. Hiram piloted him with his burden to the side of the _Scout_. Hehelped him step over the controls, eased him back into the seat andstrapped him in, the little one in his lap.

  “Snug and safe,” he spoke. “All you’ve got to do is to shut your eyesif you get dizzy. Now then, you old tyrant!” added Hiram speaking inthe direction of the storming stamping man across from them, “we’ll setyou a pace you couldn’t follow with all the constables in creation.”

  The young aviator had to make three different efforts to clear theground. It was not a very good spot for a start. Finally, however, the_Scout_ gained enough momentum and made a graceful dart up into the air.

  “Law!—stop!—arrest!”—fuming, and shaking his cane, the old man cried indisjointed fragments frantic threats after the vanishing air craft.

  “Look there!” chuckled Hiram to
the passenger behind him. Then helaughed outright, and, notwithstanding his anxiety and his miseries,the boy laughed, too.

  His persecutor, eyes fixed aloft, following the vanishing _Scout_, hadnot heeded his steps. Coming too near the slimy edge of the swamp helost his balance. With a splash he went flat, face first, into a bed ofblack sticky mud.

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