SOMETHING WRONG
The boys stood perfectly still. The crouching man had not heard them
coming nor did he see them now. He half rested on one elbow and one
knee, close up to the end of the tent. It looked as if he had been
posted there for some time, as if peering into the tent through some
break in the canvas and listening to what had been spoken inside.
Just now he was guardedly looking past the corner of the tent and
following Dave and the automobile with his eyes. It was fast getting
dark, but the glint of the headlight of the auto as it turned towards
the entrance to the grounds swept over him, and Elmer gave a great
start.
“Why,” he spoke suddenly, “Hiram, it’s that man—Vernon!”
“You don’t say so,” returned Hiram. “Are you sure of it?”
“Yes, I am,” declared Elmer, in a disturbed way. “He is after me again,
and may make all kinds of new trouble for us.”
“He won’t,” asserted Hiram, with a quick snap of his lips, and the old
farmer-boy fight and determination in his face. “Get ready to help me.”
“What are you going to do?” inquired Elmer, as his companion began to
roll up his coat cuffs.
“I’m going to nail that fellow, good and sure,” pronounced Hiram. “Maybe
your father would like to see him. Now then!”
Hiram made a spring. He landed on the shoulders of the crouching figure,
Elmer close at his heels. The unsuspecting spy went flat, the nimble
Hiram astride of him.
“What are you up to, and who are you?” demanded Hiram. “You needn’t
tell,” he added swiftly, as his prisoner squirmed about and his face
came into view. “You’re that mean rascal Vernon, and we’re going to know
what you are plotting this time before we let you go. Grab him, Elmer.”
Each seized an arm of the squirming captive. Hiram arose to his feet
without letting Vernon go, although the latter struggled fiercely. He
managed to break the grasp of Elmer, but Hiram held on to him—would have
held on to him if he had dragged him all over the field.
“What’s this?” cried Mr. Brackett, attracted to the spot by the noise of
the struggle. Then he recognized Vernon. “Ah, it’s you is it?” he said,
bending his brows at the prisoner. “I have something to say to you,” and
he seized the man by his coat collar and assisted Hiram in dragging him
around to the front of the tent.
“Oh, you have?” sneered Vernon, ceasing to struggle as he found his
efforts in that direction vain. “Well, you want to say it quick and
short.”
“What are you doing around here?” demanded the aeroplane manufacturer,
sternly.
“What do you suppose?” retorted the schemer boldly, thinking brag and
bluster only would serve him now. “I’m in the market with information,
and you had better buy it.”
“You sit there,” ordered Mr. Brackett, forcing the miscreant upon a
stool with the gesture of disgust. Then he motioned to Hiram and Elmer
to guard the doorway and sat down facing the captive. “You have gone to
the last length, my man, in persecuting my son. There is not a vestige
of accusation against him that you can press legally.”
“Oh, I think I can make you a little uneasy,” boasted the conscienceless
one.
“We shall see. It is only a few days since my lawyer reported to me the
facts of an investigation into your career. I have a few questions to
ask you. After that, I fancy you will be glad to get away from us and
stay away in the future.”
“Oh, is that so?” said Vernon, coldly.
“My lawyer has placed certain documents and information in my hands,”
continued Mr. Brackett. “One of them,” and he reached into his pocket
and produced a photograph, “is a picture of a man who served a prison
term. Do you recognize it?” and the speaker held up the photograph full
in the lamp light.
Vernon changed color. He quaked and wriggled about, but he was silent,
for it was his own portrait, in prison garb.
“How far the word of a convict will go against that of my son, whom you
duped into signing notes he could not pay, and which I will never pay,
for no consideration was involved, I do not know,” proceeded the
aeroplane manufacturer. “I do know, however, that you dare not make
another move. This document,” and he showed a folded paper, “describes
you as the man who is wanted in Boston for forfeiting a bail bond. I
have only to send word to the authorities there of your whereabouts to
have you shut up for some time to come. Now go. If I so much as hear of
your hanging around this vicinity, I will telegraph to the people who
are searching for you.”
Mr. Brackett pointed to the doorway. Vernon arose and like a whipped cur
slunk through it. An expression of relief crossed Elmer Brackett’s face.
“I only hope we are rid of him for good,” he said, fervently.
“There seems to be no doubt of that,” declared Hiram, with a satisfied
smile. “Say, though, I wonder why he was sneaking around the hangar
here?”
“To pick up what information he could about our plans, to disturb them
if he could, I suppose,” said Elmer.
Just then Dave appeared. His friends noticed that he was somewhat
thoughtful. No one alluded to the visit of the girl whom the young
aviator had just escorted to the automobile. Dave did not seem to have
any explanations to make. The others told him about the discovery of
Vernon and his summary disappearance. Then the incident was dismissed
from their minds as they all went over to the restaurant at the other
end of the big aviation grounds for supper.
Dave told his young assistants that he had an engagement in the city the
next morning. There were some little purchases to make for the _Comet_,
and he took Hiram along with him.
“I am going to call upon the friends of the young lady you saw last
evening, Hiram,” he confided to his friend. “They live at the Hampton
Flats,” and he gave Hiram the location. “If you like, after you get
through with your shopping you can call there for me. Then we can go
back to the park together.”
“All right,” assented Hiram, “I shan’t be busy for more than an hour.”
It was about eleven o’clock when Hiram started for the Hampton Flats. He
finally turned into the street where the building was located. As he
neared it, a man came hurriedly down its steps, passed down the street,
and disappeared from view around the corner.
“Well, I’ll be bumped!” exclaimed Hiram, forcibly.
He came to a dead stop, irresolute as to the course he ought to pursue.
Hiram had recognized the man as Vernon. He wondered how the rascal came
to be in the building where his airman friend was.
“Why, he’s nagging Dave, that’s sure,” declared Hiram. “But why? It
won’t do any good to run after him. I must tell Dave about it, though,
and—there he is now.”
The young aviator appeared at just that moment. He looked up and down
the street and then advanced towards Hiram as he made him out. The
latter fancied he had never seen Dave look so grave and thoughtful, but
our hero roused up into instant interest as Hiram said:
“I saw Vernon come out of that building just before you did.”
“What’s that!” challenged Dave. “Out of that building?”
“Yes, he did, Dave. Now what do you suppose he was doing there?”
The young airman did not reply. He walked along in silence. Hiram saw
that he was a good deal stirred up, but all Dave said about the incident
was:
“I’m glad you discovered this, Hiram, and told me about it. We want to
look out for that fellow.”
All that day, Hiram noticed that the pilot of the _Comet_ seemed to be
preoccupied. The hum and bustle of the approaching event, however, took
up the attention of all hands. They had a busy day of it, and Hiram was
so tired out by nightfall that he had well-nigh forgotten all about the
unexplained incident of the earlier hours of the day.
Just after daylight the next morning Elmer stirred on his sleeping cot
and drowsily cried out:
“What’s up? I thought I heard some one call for Dave.”
“You did,” replied Hiram, jumping from under the bedclothes. “I just
roused up to see one of the hangar men scurrying out of here, and Dave,
half dressed, rushing after him. Hurry up, get your clothes on.”
“What for?” inquired Elmer, sitting up in his cot and rubbing his eyes
sleepily.
“Because I caught a remark the hangar man made.”
“What was it?”
“‘Something wrong with the _Comet_!’”