IN DOUBT
Hiram Dobbs sank down on the sand beside the wreck of the _Ariel_ and
tears came into his eyes. In a flash the truth dawned upon him. Vandal
hands had destroyed the flying marvel upon which such hopes had been
built. Dave had been tracked to the present spot and captured; perhaps
hurt.
Bruce Beresford stood regarding his new friend, sharing his deep
emotion. He rammed his hands into his pockets and clenched them, pacing
about the spot to give Hiram time to regain his composure. Finally he
walked up to him and touched him on the shoulder.
“Don’t take on so, Hiram,” he pleaded, “please don’t. It may not be the
_Ariel_, you know——”
“Not the _Ariel_,” cried Hiram, springing to his feet, his tears
becoming angry tears now. “Think I wouldn’t know the _Ariel_ if I came
across one spar, or rod of it in the desert of Sahara? The _Ariel_?
Look there!”
The speaker pointed to a place in the blackened twisted mass near the
pilot post. A silver plate there bore in script the name of the
machine, date and maker. Blackened and abrased as it was Bruce was able
to make out the inscription.
“It’s too bad,” he said sorrowfully. “Do you suppose something exploded
and set it on fire?”
“No!” shouted Hiram wrathfully, now poking in among the debris. “I can
smell kerosene. And there’s the cinders of a bunch of cotton waste. The
_Ariel_ was set on fire! And—Dave!”
The thought of his missing friend roused the young pilot of the _Scout_
as no other idea could have done. Bruce was glad to see Hiram come back
to his old rushing, go-ahead self. Hiram went back to the coat they had
at first discovered. He inspected it more closely this time.
“See, it’s torn as if in a struggle, and the pockets are turned inside
out,” he said. “Oh, if we had only received the warning from Mr. Borden
sooner! Dave is gone. The same persons who expected him here, and
watched for him, have taken him away.”
“But surely they would not dare to injure him,” argued Bruce.
“Perhaps not, but don’t you see that they have spoiled his whole
future? They have put his biplane out of the way—they will keep Dave
out of the way till the International meet is over.”
“The crowd you told me about—the Syndicate people?” asked Bruce.
“Who else? What will Mr. Brackett say when he hears of this? How am I
going to find out where they have taken Dave? Oh!” cried the excited
lad, “I’m just half crazy over these doings! Wait here and watch the
_Scout_. They’ll be after that next,” and Hiram sped away, after a
sweeping glance in every direction.
He had made out a man with a rake covering the ruts in the straggly
winding road that ran across the waste space. He came up with him and
asked:
“Have you been here long?”
“All day, here and hereabouts,” was the reply, as the worker rested on
his rake and seemed glad to break the monotony of his task in that
lonely spot by talking to some one.
“Did you notice an airship within the last hour or so?”
“I did,” answered the old man. “It was over to the north yonder. It did
some fancy whirls. I watched it a bit, then I went on with my work.
They’re getting common, those flyers.”
“Have you seen anybody over near that clump of poplars?” and Hiram
indicated the spot where he had left Bruce and the _Scout_.
“Why, yes, I did,” answered the road-mender. “Thought it was sort of
queer, too. It must have been nigh onto two hours since, when three
men, driving a covered wagon, drove off from the road here. They cut
across in the direction you say. I wondered why, for the loose sand
don’t make easy going for a horse. The hummocks shut them out after a
bit, and I thought no more of them until I noticed a lot of smoke near
that patch of poplars. I then made up my mind they were campers, come
down on a sand-crane hunt.”
“Did you see them after that?” inquired Hiram eagerly.
“I did. Next thing I knew, the horse and wagon cut across back this
way. They struck the road here, and went south, the same direction they
had come from.”
“Did you notice the men on the seat of the wagon?”
“They weren’t near enough for that, and I’m sort of poor sighted as I
get older,” was the reply.
Hiram thanked the man, and hurried back to Bruce.
“I hope you have found out something,” said the latter anxiously.
“Not much that is any good, I fear,” replied Hiram. “We’ll get back
into the Scout. It’s just as I guessed it, Bruce. I am satisfied that a
covered wagon with three men in it took Dave away and that they went
south.”
The country lay under them like a map as they resumed the flight. Hiram
followed the road as a guide. At the end of ten miles it ran into a
junction of other diverging highways. So far they had not caught sight
of any vehicle answering the description of the covered wagon.
They followed the main highway for some distance. Ahead they made out a
large town. It was one of half a score dotting the landscape, and the
location of large iron plants. As they neared it, and passed roads
filled with all kinds of vehicles, and the great industrial beehive
spread out for miles, Hiram gave up in despair.
“They’ve got a start of us, and have probably run to cover by this
time,” he said. “Oh, Bruce! I don’t know what to do!”
Hiram was in deep distress. He realized that he, only a boy, had on his
hands a task that might well baffle the shrewdest detective. A dozen
impulses and plans came to his mind, but he rejected them all, fearing
to cause complications.
“Indeed, I don’t know what to do,” he said to Bruce. “If I go to the
management back at the grounds, they may cancel our entrant, and then
Dave may show up. They will want some evidence besides my say so, and
my suspicions, before they will be willing to accuse anybody of having
a hand in the affair. If I charge that Syndicate mob boldly with having
a hand in the burning of the _Ariel_, it will put them more than ever
on their guard, and they will hide Dave closer than ever. Oh, but I
must do some tall thinking! Of course the very next thing is to get in
touch with Mr. Brackett. We’ll get back to the grounds right away.”
An unexpected shower came up, and pilot, passenger and machine received
quite a drenching. The rain had stopped by the time they reached the
grounds. It made Bruce Beresford sad to watch the face of his friend.
Hiram was like a rudderless boat, without Dave. The responsibilities
suddenly thrust upon him seemed to stagger him. He was so harried,
worried and flurried that he walked up and down before the hangar, so
nervous and stirred up he could not keep still.
“It seems to me, Hiram,” suggested Bruce, “that the best thing to do is
to tell the management about the whole business. Surely they will do
something to help you.”
“I’m trying to think if it’s best to do that,” responded Hiram. “I’m
trying to block out a way to act so I won’t make any mistake. You don’t
know this game as well as I do. It isn’t the first time this kind of a
thing has happened to us. Let me alone for a bit, Bruce, till I get
everything straightened out in my mind.”
“Don’t you bother about the _Scout_, Hiram. I’ll clean up and get it
into the hangar,” said Bruce.
He rubbed the metal parts dry and shining and swept up the litter in
the cockpit. A good deal of sand had gotten into this. He was pulling
out the seat cushions, when something caught his finger, pricking it
sharply. It was a metal point of some kind, and looking closer Bruce
made out that it was a stick pin.
He picked this up, and as he did so noticed a second pin lying on the
seat frame, hitherto concealed by the cushion. A quick flash of
intelligence came into his mind. Quite roused up, Bruce shouted to his
friend:
“Hiram, come here, I think I’ve made an important discovery!”
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