CHAPTER VII

THE HIDDEN HAND

“Hurray!” cheered Hiram Dobbs enthusiastically—“we’re off! Oh, Dave,

this is life!”

“We are going to make this a record attempt, Hiram,” the young aviator

advised his excited assistant. “Got the sealed barographs in place? All

right. If we should really do something quite stunning, at the end of

the flight we’ll submit results to the contesting committee of the

governing organization at New York City.”

“A cross country flight as the crow flies!” cried Hiram. “It must be

over three hundred and fifty miles. Dave, what do you expect?”

“If this cross wind doesn’t interfere, I calculate about three hours

and thirty minutes.”

“Why, that would beat the Western record,” suggested Hiram, wonderingly.

“That’s what I am setting out to do,” answered the young airman

quietly. “We are tanked up forty-six gallons, and enough oil to last us

for a five hour run.”

The _Ariel_ made three trips around the Midlothian grounds, and then

struck her going level. The main plates of the machine were so arranged

above the fuselage or framework, that pilot and observer had an almost

unlimited range of vision. Dave experienced a sense of relief at

leaving a spot where trouble seemed to menace them. Hiram comfortably

belted in, had eyes open for everything. This was his second trip in

the _Ariel_, and the novelty of the machine had not yet worn off for

him.

There was a minor trial course outside the Midlothian grounds, given

over to amateurs and non-eligibles. There both Dave and his chum

noticed a good many ambitious airmen trying out their machines. Several

of them set the _Ariel_ a pace, but all but two of them soon fell

behind. One of these, a full type Curtiss, held a fair follow-up at a

distance.

“Looks as if it was headed for Chicago, too; that particular machine,”

observed Hiram. “Do we follow the railroad, Dave?”

“It’s the clearest and best course, I think,” responded the pilot of

the _Ariel_. “Did you leave word for our tramp friend, Borden?”

“Yes, with that accommodating fellow at the next hangar to ours. I left

a little note telling him to wire us if he made any important

discoveries. Say, Dave, do you suppose that fraud lieutenant will show

up again?”

“I think we must be careful all along the line,” was the reply,

delivered gravely. “That telegram showed that our old-time enemy,

Vernon, is after us. The lieutenant, and undoubtedly the man whose

picture Borden drew, are certainly working in the interest of Vernon.”

“But what can he be after?” persisted Hiram, in a nettled way because

he could not probe the mystery.

“That will develop later,” answered the young air pilot. “To my way of

thinking, and also that of Mr. Brackett, our enemy has offered his

services to some contestant we do not yet know. Now we’ve picked up the

railway. That will be our guide to our terminus.”

The biplane had been given a careful investigation and adjustment. Dave

had driven onward and upward until they had attained an altitude of

five hundred feet. Hiram had been watching a receding speck, the

Curtiss machine, that seemed bent on their own course, when, turning,

he touched Dave sharply on the shoulder, and called loudly above the

throb of the motor:

“There’s a heavy cloud-bank ahead.”

“I see that,” spoke the pilot of the _Ariel_.

“It ends in a mean fog, earthward.”

“Yes, I notice that, too. I tell you, Hiram, we are safer up here,

under the circumstances, than trying to get down. We’ll nose up to a

still higher altitude and get above the clouds.”

“We’re nearly touching the seven thousand mark,” reported Hiram, a few

minutes later. “It’s clear sailing ahead, though.”

Because of the maneuver just attempted, the two young airmen became

mixed as to their course. For some time neither saw the earth again.

Dave tried to allow for the same drift as before, but could only hope

that he was steering in the right direction.

“There’s a change in the atmospheric conditions,” announced Dave’s

assistant, after a while.

“Yes,” responded Dave, “there’s a storm raging below.”

“And ahead, too,” added Hiram.

“We’ve got to get above those newly formed clouds,” declared Dave, and

he shot the machine still higher up.

“Dave!” cried his companion, “I never saw anything so beautiful! Isn’t

this grand!”

It was, indeed, an unusual sight. Dazzling white clouds paved a seeming

highway beneath them in every direction. Overhead the sun was shining

brilliantly. The light reflected upon the cloud-mass was so intense

that it affected the eyes as snow blindness would.

“It’s getting terribly cold!” Hiram remarked, shivering.

“Yes,” answered Dave, with a glance at the thermometer, “two degrees

above freezing point,” and even through his leather suit he could feel

the sharp and piercing cold. The wind above the clouds came straight

from the north. Below it was blowing from the northwest. It was a

wonderful sight about then, and it reminded the young aviator strongly

of past experiences in the polar regions, while on his famous trip

around the world. He did his best to keep a due east course, but had no

landmarks to steer by, and he decided they must have drifted far to the

south.

At last there were rifts in the clouds, which began breaking up, giving

a sight of the ground.

“We’ve been up here nearly three hours,” announced Hiram, “and the

gasoline is giving out.”

A slow glide brought them directly over a large farm. They made out

great stacks of hay, and the _Ariel_ settled down like a tired-out bird

in the center of these fields.

“There’s a man—with a gun!” Hiram sharply exclaimed.

Dave, alighting, saw a farmer, of middle age. He, indeed, had a gun—but

he set this, and a game bag, alongside a haystack, and advanced towards

them with no indication of antagonism.

“That was a pretty slick landing,” he said. “No fire about your

machine, is there?”

“None at all,” answered Dave. “I have shut off everything.”

“I was thinking of the haystacks,” explained the farmer. “You’ve got a

fine machine there. I’ve seen some, they’re getting so common they

often come out this way.”

“We have run out of gasoline,” said Dave. “Do you happen to have a

supply?”

“I don’t, for a fact,” was the reply, “but I happen to know my nearest

neighbor has. If you want to come up to the house, and wait a bit, I’ll

send one of my men after it.”

“We need quite a quantity,” said Dave, “and will be glad to pay a good

price.”

“A bite of something to eat wouldn’t come in amiss, either,” suggested

Hiram.

“I reckon we can accommodate you in that particular,” said the farmer.

“Make things snug, lads, and come up to the house.”

He led the way, chatting busily. Dave soon discovered that he was

up-to-date, readily pleased with novelty, very inquisitive and

hospitable in the extreme. He learned of the extent of the needs of his

guests, and forthwith sent a hired man with a wagon over to the

neighbor’s for gasoline. Then, as his visitors were comfortably seated

on a screened porch, with chairs and a table on it, he left them for

the kitchen of the house.

“The girl will fetch some victuals in a few minutes,” he advised the

boys upon his return. “Sort of enjoyable, eating here in the air. Big

meet out in Chicago, I understand?”

“Yes, we are going there,” said Dave, and from then on he was kept busy

answering the questions “fired” at him rapidly by their curious host.

“I declare! that’s an interesting trade of yours,” he said. “But here’s

the victuals. Sort of out of reg’lar meal-time order, but you’ll find

it all right, I hope.”

Hiram was very hungry, and ate the cold roast beef, biscuits and fried

potatoes served in plentitude, with the keen appetite of a hungry boy.

Dave, too, enjoyed the palatable lunch.

“I suppose it’s a great bracer to get away up in the air,” observed the

farmer. “Through, youngsters?”

“No. I say!—Why, where is that?” suddenly ejaculated Hiram.

He had leaped up unceremoniously from the table, and advanced to the

end of the porch.

“Hear that chugging, Dave?” he inquired, peering up into the sky.

“There’s a machine somewhere aloft. Oh, here’s the screen door! I want

to look. There she is!” he shouted, once out in the yard, and staring

upwards. “Dave, it’s the Curtiss we thought was taking up our course!”

“Then they’ve made as good time as we have,” called back Dave. “What

now?” for Hiram had uttered a new cry of excitement.

“Why, I say!” he shouted. “That’s strange! It’s suddenly vanished!”

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Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds · 第 7 / 25 章