STRICTLY BUSINESS
Our hero had accomplished his mission. He had learned all that he had
come to Lookout Hill to find out. The two men and their mysterious
machine had been located. Their connection as accomplices of Dave’s
enemies was positive.
“Here is something to think over before we make a definite move,”
reflected the young aviator. “These fellows will, of course, hear about
us if they go back to the town, which they probably will do. Then it
will be a new, closer chase.”
The professional curiosity of the pilot of the _Comet_ held him to the
spot momentarily. He made a detour of the campfire. His object was to
inspect the monoplane.
A score of ideas crowded Dave’s thoughts. He might tell his story to an
officer of the town, possibly have the tramp airship and its crew
arrested, or at least detained. Again, he might quietly start up the
_Comet_, strike a new route, and count on outdistancing all pursuers.
Dave glided along in the shelter of the underbrush until he came up
directly to the monoplane. A near glance told him that it was a superb
machine. Whoever the airmen hired by the wily Vernon were, they
thoroughly understood their business, that seemed sure.
The young aviator was so engrossed in his inspection of the machine,
thinking so fast as to what was best to do, that he was taken all
unawares as some one nearly ran upon him. It was the man he had just
seen at the campfire.
“Hello, who are you?” shot out the man, and he paused not five feet from
the young airman and looked him over from head to foot.
“I heard of your machine and came to take a look at it,” replied Dave,
on his guard and watching his challenger closely, for he had a bad face.
“Oh, you did?” said the fellow, moving a step nearer. “That’s a strange
jacket you wear. Why, you’re an airman yourself and—you’re Dashaway!”
The man was too quick for Dave. As he spoke he made a deft spring. It
showed that he was a natural acrobat. His grip on Dave’s arm was like
iron.
“Let me go. Suppose I am?” demanded our hero, struggling.
“Well, then I have a little business with you,” coolly answered his
captor. “Oh, you’re Dashaway. I saw you twice in Winnipeg. Come on. Tom!
Tom!” he called out loudly, to his companion, as he found himself unable
to budge his prisoner, although he weighed nearly double what Dave did.
The man near the campfire neither responded nor stirred. He was past
helping his comrade. There was a reason why the young airman was able to
make so sturdy a resistance. His free hand clutched a sapling right at
hand. His foot he had twisted in among the network of strong roots.
The combatants stood directly at the edge of one of the pits that
honeycombed the plateau. Its edge crumbled as the man gave Dave a jerk.
“Look out!” cried our hero, “if you don’t want both of us to get a
tumble.”
“You come on,” ordered his captor, savagely. “I’ll stand no fooling.
Come—on!”
He gave Dave a terrific jerk. It was so forceful that our hero’s grasp
of the tree tore loose, and he toppled over. In doing so his assailant
lost his balance. He stumbled over Dave’s entangled foot. In some
astonishment the young aviator found the fellow had completely
disappeared as he got to his feet.
“He’s done for himself, sure enough,” said Dave, and he peered down into
the pit. It was about twenty feet deep. He heard a groan. Then he traced
a rustling about. His eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness, Dave was
finally enabled to make out his enemy trying to climb up the steep sides
of the pit.
The roots he clutched at gave way in his grasp and a shower of dirt and
gravel drove him back. The young aviator discerned that the man was not
seriously hurt. He realized also that sooner or later his enemy would
manage to get out of the pit. If not at once, at least when his now
helpless comrade came to himself, the man would be rescued.
“He is just where I want him,” thought the young aviator. “It won’t do
to leave him the machine.”
Dave walked up again to the flying machine. He soon estimated its
condition and capacity. He found it to be a capable piece of mechanism.
“Hi, stop—Oh, thunder!”
This was shouted out after the runaway as the machine lifted into the
air, Dave at the helm. Its rightful pilot spoke, but, his call barely
completed as he grasped at the edge of the pit, down he slid again to
its bottom.
Fifteen minutes later the machine dropped to earth in the field behind
the inn at Doubleday, not a hundred feet from the _Comet_. Hiram came
running towards it.
“You, Dave?” he called out cautiously.
“With company,” answered Dave promptly.
“Gracious! It’s the pirate tramp, isn’t it?” cried the astonished Hiram.
“Why, what does it mean? How did you manage it?”
“Don’t ask any questions just now,” responded the young airman. “Wake up
Elmer.”
“We’re going to get out of here?”
“Quick as we can. There’s a reason.”
Hiram bolted for the haymow. Elmer very shortly came up to the spot
where Dave stood.
“For mercy’s sake, two of them!” he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes and
staring in surprise at the captured airship.
“Yes, this is the pirate,” explained the young pilot. “The fellows who
ran it tried to follow us from Winnipeg. Turn about is fair play,
fellows. Some of the same gang stole our machine near Washington for a
bad purpose. We will retaliate by borrowing theirs now for a good
purpose.”
“Yes,” put in Hiram, with animation, “get them and the machine safely
out of harm’s way.”
“I intend to,” said Dave. “You’ll have to fly the craft, Hiram.”
“I reckon I can do it,” asserted Hiram promptly. “What’s your idea,
Dave?”
“A two hours’ flight, due west. Then we will hold a new council of war.
We had best not delay. I don’t know how soon the fellow who runs that
craft may be on our trail.”
No one appeared to observe or hinder the airship boys as they made their
preparations to resume their journey. The pilot of the _Comet_ gave his
trusty assistant explicit orders as to what was required of him.
The biplane started first from the ground. In the clear moonlight its
course was not difficult to follow. Soon the leader and its consort were
started on a steady course, due west. Hiram was in gay humor. Dave had
explained the details of his encounter with the enemy, and the new pilot
of the pirate airship chuckled as he drove it forward.
The incident had fully awakened Elmer, and Dave found him good lively
company. There was a rare spice of adventure in the incident of the
night.
“You handled things just grand,” voted Dave’s enthusiastic admirer. “I
wonder how those fellows are feeling just about this time?”
It was after midnight when the young aviator directed his companion to
take the distance record.
“Ninety-seven miles,” reported Elmer.
“I guess that will do,” said our hero. “We are going to land.”
A pleasant stretch of forest glade looked inviting. The _Comet_ came to
anchor. In about ten minutes the other machine made an easy descent
almost at the side of the _Comet_.
“Well done, Hiram,” commended his friend, warmly. “Your lessons under
old John Grimshaw are bringing famous results.”
“Glad you think so,” answered Hiram, with affected indifference, but he
looked both pleased and proud.
“It’s about midnight,” said Dave. “We will turn in soon as we can,
fellows. I will take the first watch.”
“Going to stay here until daylight?” inquired Hiram.
“Yes, and for a good breakfast,” replied the young airman. “We need the
rest, and there is little likelihood of our enemies catching up with us
now.”
“I should say not,” echoed Hiram with a chuckle.
“No, you have spiked their guns for keeps, Dave,” added Elmer.
It was a little later than sunrise when Hiram, on the last watch, woke
up his comrades. He had a fire of twigs going.
“Coffee on the boil, fellows,” he announced cheerily; “ham done to a
turn, and the bread being a little dry I thought we would have some
buttered toast.”
“Hurrah!” shouted the hungry and jubilant Elmer. “I feel as if I could
eat a horse.”
“Yes, this brisk Canadian air certainly gives a fellow a great
appetite,” declared Dave.
“Next town we stop at,” spoke Hiram, “I want to get some pancake flour.
I’ve been just hankering for some old fashioned flapjacks. I’ve got a
griddle among the traps, and I know I can turn out some elegant
pancakes.”
“This is good enough for anybody,” insisted Elmer, his teeth deep in a
piece of luscious ham cooked to a turn.
“Say,” spoke Hiram a few minutes later, “I strolled around the end of
that grove of trees yonder before I woke you up. There’s a road just
beyond them, and there’s a town not half a mile away.”
“Is that so?” questioned the young aviator. “That suits my plans
precisely.”
“How is that?” asked Elmer.
“I will show you after breakfast,” replied Dave.
He got a pad of writing paper from the supply aboard the biplane. Dave
was busy writing for some time. Then he got the repair outfit of the
_Comet_.
“Come on, you can help me,” he said to Hiram and Elmer.
The young airman partially upset the captured airship. His comrades very
soon understood what this manœuvre meant. Dave removed a dozen or more
screws and bolts. Then he unhinged alternate struts and set to work on
the engine. The parts removed were stored aboard of the _Comet_.
“I guess that will cripple the craft enough to serve our purpose,” said
Dave. “I don’t want to be a vandal and wholly destroy as pretty a
machine as this is.”
“Can’t afford to take any risks with the bad crowd trying to break us up
though,” reminded Hiram.
“I don’t intend to,” answered Dave. “It will take a long trip clear back
to Winnipeg to replace those parts. If those fellows we left back at
Doubleday come on after the machine, it will be fully a week before they
can think of taking up the chase again.”
“By that time we will have reached Alaska; won’t we, Dave?” queried
Elmer.
“And far beyond, if we fill the schedule blocked out,” replied the young
pilot of the _Comet_. “I’ll be back soon, fellows.”
Dave lined the grove of trees and was soon lost beyond it to the present
sight of his friends. In about half an hour he reappeared, walking
briskly.
“It’s all right,” he reported. “Get the _Comet_ in trim.”
“Going to start up, eh?” remarked Elmer.
“We had better, I think, to avoid complications,” said Dave. “The town
beyond here has a telephone service probably, running to Doubleday. The
note I wrote told of the dismantled machine here. It also explained
enough to warrant a ’phone call, explaining about it, sent to Doubleday.
Those Winnipeg fellows can get their machine by coming for it.”
“You mean what is left of it,” corrected Hiram.
“I hired a boy I met to take my note to the postmaster of the town near
here,” explained the young aviator. “I think I have been as fair all
around as we can afford to be under the circumstances.”
“That’s right,” assented Hiram, with vigor, and Elmer echoed the
sentiment.
“The coast is clear—as far as Sitka, anyhow,” proceeded the young
airman. “And now, fellows,” he added briskly—“business, strictly
business.”