by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER X
A FRIEND IN DISGUISE
“Dave, I’m famous!”
Hiram Dobbs burst into the little space just beyond the threshold ofthe hangar, which he had called “the office.” The partitioned-offcorner held some chairs and a table. Dave was busy glancing over acatalogue of aeroplane accessories, and he looked up with aninquisitive smile at his excitable assistant.
“Well, what now, Hiram?” he questioned.
“Look—your picture, my picture, the burning building, the _Ariel_.‘Daring aeronaut’—that’s you. ‘Heroic assistant’—that’s me. See, isn’tit great!”
The impetuous speaker had just come in from breakfast. He spread out amorning newspaper. Its first four columns held a vivid description ofthe warehouse fire. There had certainly been reporters at the scene,and photographers also, for four excellent pictures illuminated theprinted page.
There was one scene of the swoop of the _Ariel_ to the roof of thebuilding where the stenographer had stood, with clasped hands gazinghelplessly down at the awed crowd, fourteen stories below.
Then there was a view of the ruins after the fire, showing a lowsmouldering heap, all that remained of the skyscraper.
When the _Ariel_ had last landed, the photographer had made a closesnap shot of pilot and assistant. The aeroplane, Dave, and Hiram wereall clearly shown. The final picture was a view of thousands of personswaving hats and handkerchiefs in enthusiastic adieu to the machinedisappearing over their heads.
“It’s a smart fellow who did that story,” declared Hiram. “Regularpoet, too. ‘Nervy young aviator,’ ‘heroic lone figure of the handsomeyoung fellow who ran the risk of his life to save a poor frenziedgirl.’ Hum! I’ll have to look out if I’m in that list. How they learnedwho we were, and got your whole history, Dave, shows positive genius.”
“We were not interviewed,” responded the young airman, “so I supposethey naturally traced us here, and got their information from themanager. It makes quite a pleasant thrill, to see ourselves pictured asdoing some good in the world; doesn’t it?”
“I know some folks who didn’t have any pleasing thrills over theaffair,” remarked Hiram.
“Who is that?” questioned his chum.
“The Syndicate crowd. I came past there from the restaurant. One ofthem had a morning paper. Valdec saw me and scowled. Worthington lookedup, and I saw his lips move as if he were wishing us up at Halifax.They don’t wish us any good luck I’m sure. But at headquarters themanager was delighted. He came up to me when I was eating breakfast,clapped me on the shoulder and smiled all over. ‘Tell Dashaway he’sgiven the meet a capital advertisement,’ he said. You see, it mentionsthat you will be one of the contestants in the International, Dave.”
Hiram was in good humor over the event. He whistled and sang in hisroutine work about the hangar. Dave was his friend and he was proud ofhim, and not for a moment doubted that he would “scoop up every prizein sight,” as he expressed it. When his chum sent him after some frametape, down to the supply depot on the grounds, Hiram purposely took adetour by way of the Syndicate camp.
“Guess I’ve got a bad streak in me somewhere,” he chuckled, “for itsort of satisfies me to think we’re making that crowd wriggle.Hello—well, never! Oh, say, hello!”
Hiram walked on with sudden activity. He was passing the central hangarof the Syndicate people, when he noticed a man twenty feet ahead ofhim. This individual chanced to turn his face sideways. In an instantHiram recognized him, and the youth came to a sudden stop for he ransquarely into the man.
“Mr. Borden!” Hiram cried. “Say, I’m awful glad——”
“Hush!” came the caution.
It was the tramp artist. He was now neatly dressed. The frowsiness hehad shown at the Midlothian grounds was gone, and he seemed prosperous.As he evidently in turn recognized his friend of the past, a glad gleamcame over his face, and then he became flustered. He seized Hiram bythe arm, turned his back to the people near the hangar, and whisperedquickly:
“Not a word! No names! Act out what I start in on.” And then in a toneof affected ferocity he gave Hiram a vigorous shake. “Who are yourunning into, clumsy!” he shouted at the top of his voice. “Get awayfrom here, and stay away!”
He gave Hiram a swing and a push. For only a moment was the latterbewildered. Then he was almost stunned. Amid the jeers of the Syndicatecrowd near the hangars he went spinning almost twenty feet, stumbledand slid flat on the ground for a yard or two.
“I’ll get even with you!” he yelled at Borden, shaking his fist at him,affecting a boylike rage at his mistreatment, and then setting off on arun as his pretended assailant made a feint of pursuing. “Oh, say,”continued Hiram to himself, “Dave must know about this right away.‘Acting,’ Borden called it. Good! Great! I see through it now!”
Hiram forgot about his errand for the time being. He was a quietthinker, and he fancied he had made a big discovery. He rushed in onhis chum, flustered, perspiring and gasping for breath.
“Dave,” he almost shouted, “that man—the tramp down at theMidlothian—you know—”
“Yes,” answered his chum, “Mr. Borden—what about him?”
“He’s here! He’s with the Syndicate crowd. I saw him. Listen,” and thewords piled over each other recklessly as he recited his recentadventure. “Now what do you think of that? Plain as the nose on yourface. ‘Acting,’ see? I took him unawares. He’s playing a part—for ourbenefit!”
“I believe you’re right,” agreed Dave thoughtfully. “It looks that way,anyhow. I don’t know why he should be so interested in our affairs andgo to a lot of trouble to help us——”
“I do,” pronounced Hiram energetically. “I saw more of him than youdid. He’s no ordinary tramp. You treated him like a gentleman and heappreciated it. You have a way of making everybody like you, Dave.”
“Thank you,” answered the young aviator, “but how about Valdec and theSyndicate outfit, Hiram?”
“I meant everybody good,” corrected Hiram. “That proves my argument.Borden is good. He shows it, good all over and all the way through. Ithink he has some track of the fellow whose picture he drew and thatthe trail led him straight to the meet here. Don’t you see? Vincent isin with Worthington and his crowd and Borden has found it out.”
Dave did not reply to the suggestion, but in his own mind he secretlysided with the views of his imaginative assistant. From the manner inwhich Borden had just acted, it would seem that his being with theSyndicate crowd was no accidental connection. If its motive lay in afriendly move on behalf of the airship chums, it was certain that thetramp artist had discovered something of value.
“If things are as you say,” spoke Dave, “we will be sure to hear fromBorden in some way before long. It is evident that he does not want usto recognize him as a friend. That being so, he will act with cautionin getting word to us.”
“You’ll find out I’m guessing right,” asserted Hiram, “you’ll find outthat this Vernon, out of revenge, and because he’s paid, is working forValdec to get us out of the contest.”
Hiram was much excited the rest of that day, expecting word fromBorden, which did not come. The episode of the morning had somewhatdisturbed Dave. If there was a systematic plot on foot to keep theAriel out of the lists, extreme vigilance was necessary.
The management had a night patrol, but more to look after things ingeneral than each individual hangar. Dave had known one Dennis Rohan ata former meet he had attended, a man who traveled about selling favorsand souvenirs. He was an old man with one limb, crippled, not veryactive in getting about, but sober and reliable. Until the meet openedhe had nothing particular to do. Dave sought him out. He arranged thatRohan was to act as watchman of the hangar, coming on duty at dusk, andremaining until daylight.
The usual practice of the day was gone through that afternoon. Hiramshowed a good deal of restlessness, however. Just before supper Davecame up to him where h
e sat on a bench near the hangar looking in thedirection of the Syndicate camp.
“See here, Hiram,” spoke the young aviator, “you’re letting this Bordenaffair get on your nerves, and it won’t do. I’m looking out for tricks,and things will develop of themselves. Get your mind in a new rut. Whatdo you say to a flight out over the lake? It will be moonlight shortlyafter dark and the air spin will make us sleep soundly.”
“That suits me,” proclaimed Hiram, his usual animation restored—“youmean in the _Ariel_?”
“Why, just as you choose. If you want to take the _Scout_, it will giveyou fine practice.”
“That will be fine,” said Hiram, and just at dusk, after their eveningmeal, he ran the _Scout_ out of the hangar near the high fencesurrounding the grounds, and busied himself seeing that the machine wasin perfect trim for the flight.
Dave was similarly employed with the _Ariel_, inside the hangar. He wasready to start out, but glancing at his watch and discovering thatRohan would be due on his night duty within a few minutes, he decidedto await his arrival to give him some instructions.
“She’s in prime trim,” voiced his young assistant outside, as heclimbed into the pilot seat and ran his hand over the various wheels,levers and buttons, to see that everything was in order. “Why doesn’tDave come?” and he was about to give a customary signal whistle when heexclaimed with a start “Hello! what’s that, now?”
It was a shot, just outside the fence, and it was followed by shouts.Then there was a scraping sound on the surface of the outside of theboards.
“I declare!” cried Hiram, as a human head bobbed into view over the topof the fence. There was another shot. “Hi, you! what’s up?” challengedHiram.
In a great hurry, the owner of the head pulled himself into view. Hedropped to the inside, stumbled, recovered himself and then glared allabout him. His glance lit on the machine and then on its pilot.
Whoever he was, whatever his purposes, the sight of the outfit seemedsuddenly to infuse him with an idea. He gave the machine a push, sentit spinning ahead, ran around to its side and leaping up began climbingover the planes.
“Here! here!” shouted the astonished Hiram, “get off there. You’llsmash things.”
“Start her up,” ordered the intruder, “do it quick, without a word, or—”
The speaker must have known something about flying machines, for with adexterous move he landed in the cockpit. As he did so, he completed hismenacing words by holding a pistol close to the head of the startledHiram Dobbs.
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