by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER XX
BEATEN
Hiram Dobbs was whistling like a nightingale, Bruce Beresford waspolishing up the brass work of the new _Ariel_ for the fifth or sixthtime, when suddenly Hiram made a derisive sweep with his handful ofcotton waste towards two passers-by—Valdec and one of his crowd.
“Hah!” uttered Dave Dashaway’s assistant—“you’ve had your claws cutshort this time!”
Safe and sound, more than hopeful, and very happy felt the young pilotof the _Scout_. Hiram could defy all his foes now. Day and night, halfa dozen men from the aero plant formed a perfect cordon around thehangar which housed the almost sure winner of the International, asHiram insisted on putting it.
There had been a sort of jollification conference the evening before ina room at the grounds clubhouse, where the manufacturer and his threefriends felt free to discuss affairs in general without the fear ofintruders or listeners. It was there that Dave explained his recentadventure at the sand dunes. His capture and the destruction of the old_Ariel_ had been the result of a well laid plot on the part of theSyndicate crowd and their allies.
It was Borden who had saved the day. Hiram’s heart warmed anew towardsthe tramp artist as he realized how loyally the latter had repaid theslight kindness they had shown a homeless wanderer at the Midlothiangrounds.
“Mr. Borden warned you too late, Hiram,” explained Dave, “but he founda way, a little later, to be doubly useful in our interests. The menwho made me a prisoner at the sand dunes and burned up the old _Ariel_I had never seen before. I was taken perhaps thirty miles in a closedwagon, tied hand and foot, and guarded by a balking fellow, so I keptpretty still.”
“Where did they take you, Mr. Dashaway?” the interested Bruce had asked.
“To an old building in a big town over the state line. It must havebeen a factory, at some time or other. It had all gone to ruin, andthey kept me in a room in the boiler house, with a heavy iron door toit. The Syndicate crowd sent Mr. Borden down to help their man guardme. I don’t know how he managed it, but he got entire charge of me, andlet his supposed fellow watchman lay around the town. The first nighthe got a wire to Mr. Brackett who came down for me. Since then I havebeen practicing near the Aero Company’s plant, and watching our newbeauty of a biplane grow into the finest craft of its class in theworld.”
“And Mr. Borden?” pressed Hiram curiously.
“I don’t think the Syndicate crowd had the least idea that I was freeuntil I showed up on the grounds here,” declared Dave.
“What’ll they do when they find out he’s hocussed them?” asked Bruce.
“I have supplied our good friend, Mr. Borden, with the means of goingabout where he pleases,” observed Mr. Brackett with a smile. “Theywon’t find him unless he wants to be found, you may rest assured ofthat fact.”
“And are those fellows to be allowed to go scot free after all they’vedone!” cried the indignant Hiram.
“I hardly think we will disturb them if they leave us alone—at leastfor the present,” replied the manufacturer. “You see, Hiram, we mightnot be able to fasten the plot directly upon them. It is still myopinion that Vernon, our old time enemy, is the main actor in all theseoutrages, although he has pretty cleverly covered up his tracks.”
“Well, so far—everything is fine!” declared the volatile Hiram. “Oh,Dave, if you only win the altitude contest to-morrow!”
“The new _Ariel_ can do its share,” insisted Mr. Brackett.
“I shall try to do mine,” added the young aviator modestly.
“Fifty points!” murmured Hiram. “Score that and you are sure of the bigprize,” and Hiram had a vision of that official blackboard markergiving to his chum the second award in the International contest.
Four machines besides their own were listed for the altitude contestand the _Whirlwind_ was among them. The first thing the observant Hiramnoticed as they reached the center field was that Valdec wore hisordinary sailing jacket. Dave was fully prepared for any cold he mightrun into. Besides that, at his side, was a light, round tank with acoil of rubber hose running from it.
“We’re testing an emergency oxygen supply, if the air gets toorarefied,” Dave explained to Hiram. “It may work in quite well when weget up above ten thousand feet.”
“Oh, Dave, you can’t hope to do that!” exclaimed his young assistant.
The manager and a helper visited the five machines while the rules ofthe contest were being read by his secretary. The barograph of eachbiplane was examined, sealed up and put in place. Three hours was thetime limit allowed, the pilots to select their own course.
There was some cloudiness, but no wind, and the five machines made asplendid initial rise. The _Whirlwind_ was all for speed. Dave took itmore slowly. Within fifteen minutes the five crafts were scattered toall points of the compass. They became mere specks as a lower strata ofcloud haze obscured them. Then they vanished from view as a denserupper cumulus enveloped them.
At eleven o’clock one of the contestants came back to the groundsbecause of a break in the control. A comrade competitor gave up thecontest a quarter of an hour later. Number three reported itself out ofthe race at noon.
“It’s the _Ariel_ and the _Whirlwind_,” went the rounds of the stand.Everybody was wrought up to a great pitch of doubt and suspense. Theclouds still obscured all sight of the clear sky.
“There’s one of them!” burst out a voice and there was great excitementas an air craft came sailing swiftly into view.
“The _Whirlwind_,” spoke a man with a pair of field glasses.
The Syndicate machine came to anchor as Worthington and his alliesrushed toward it. Valdec stepped out of the biplane smiling and profusein his bows. He joked and laughed as the expert removed the barograph,hastened to the judges’ stand and then placed it in a strong tin boxand locked it in.
“Here’s the other!” The shout announced the _Ariel_. In about twentyminutes the boys and Mr. Brackett were crowding about it. The machinewas dripping with moisture, and as it touched the ground its pilotremoved his head gear, and fell over to one side, gasping for breath.
“He’s collapsed!” exclaimed an attendant and ran for water. They liftedDave out of the machine. Mr. Brackett and Hiram supported him. Theexpert had removed the barograph. They made Dave swallow some water,rubbed his hands, and finally he opened his eyes. He smiled vaguely.
“I made it,” he spoke with difficulty. “Nearly went under, but I hadset my mark—over eleven thousand feet.”
“You couldn’t! It’s ahead of any record! He’s dreaming!” blurted outHiram.
“The barograph says so—I’ve won. I knew I should,” murmured Dave. “Getme somewhere to lie down. I’m weak and dizzy.”
“What’s that!” suddenly spoke Hiram, turning sharply as they wereleading Dave over to the club house.
They were at a point where they could not see the blackboard. Hiramnoticed a great crowd about it. Cheers rent the air. A man bolted fromthe mass, bareheaded, excited, rushing down the road wildly. Hiramrecognized him as one of the Syndicate hangers-on.
“What is it?” was demanded of him by an inquisitive pedestrian.
“Record smashed!” came the breathless but triumphant reply. “Valdec haswon—12,350 feet!”
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