THE AIR KING
“You’ll be awful sorry for this,” Dave and his companion heard next.
“That’s enough, Dawson.”
“My boy, Jerry, knows this business, and you won’t find a lot who do.”
“I tell you that will do,” was the forcible response, “and it ends it.
Your son gave away a lot of information to a competitor. There are
things missing, too.”
“Don’t you call Jerry a thief!”
“If he isn’t that, at least he neglected to watch my property and my
interests as he was paid to do.”
“You’ll suffer for sending my son away with a bad character!”
“Don’t let me see him again, that’s all.”
“Huh!”
The last speaker, a big fierce-looking man came out through the doorway
with the word. From the way he was dressed Dave decided that he was
employed somewhere about the grounds. His face was red and his fists
clenched. He gritted his teeth viciously as he went on his way.
“It’s my turn now,” spoke up Dave’s companion eagerly.
He made a quick bolt through the doorway. Dave was left alone. His eyes
followed the man whom he had heard called Dawson. The latter had gone
about a hundred feet down the hangar row, when a boy about the age and
size of Dave came suddenly into view from behind a shed, where evidently
he had been waiting.
Dave decided that this must be the son of Dawson concerning whom there
had been such an animated discussion. He could surmise from their looks
and gestures that the father was reporting the result of the interview
to his son. The latter scowled forcibly. Then he shook his fist in the
direction of the hangar.
“Why,” said Dave thoughtfully, “there must be a vacancy here. Maybe I
have arrived just in the nick of time.”
It was easy to figure out that the boy, Jerry Dawson, had been
discharged from the employ of Mr. King. His father had interceded for
him, but it had been of no avail. Suddenly Dave’s interest was
distracted from the incident of the moment. He heard his late companion
speaking beyond the doorway:—
“Yes, sir, a man gave me that card and said he had heard that you was in
need of a boy.”
“H’m, yes,” Dave heard Mr. King reply. “That is true, but—what’s your
name.”
“Hiram Dobbs.”
“Where do you come from, Hiram?”
“I did live twenty miles west of here, but I got tired of farming and my
brother said I could try something else if I wanted to. I worked for a
fellow in the merry-go-round business in the city till night before
last. He sloped without paying me.”
“And you want to break into the aero business, eh?”
“Well, I heard there might be a chance with you, so I came here. You
see, I’ve had some experience.”
“In the airship line?”
“Well, no—balloons.”
“How? Where?” asked Mr. King.
“Down at Talcott, the town near our farm. There was a circus and a
balloon ascension. I got caught in a rope and was dragged thirty feet up
into the air.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes. Here, there’s a slip from the Talcott Herald, telling all about
‘the daring feat of our young townsman.’ If I hadn’t caught in a tree
I’d have gone further.”
There was a sound of rustling paper. Then Dave heard Mr. King laugh. It
was a kindly, good natured laugh, though. Dave voted he would like the
man in whom he was so interested yet whom he had never seen.
“Well, well,” spoke Mr. King, “you were quite a hero. Being pulled up
into the clouds on a balloon anchor is not the kind of experience that
counts for much in the airship line, though, my lad. If I had something
just suited to you, I would give you a chance on your honest face.
Frankly, though, I do not think you would be of much use to me until you
have had some practical experience.”
“Sorry,” replied Hiram Dobbs in a subdued tone, “for I like you, mister.
Now, where can I get that experience?”
“By working around the hangars and doing odd jobs till you know a
monoplane from a biplane, and a pylon from an aileron. See here, you go
down to the office of the grounds—know where it is?”
“Yes, sir, near the big gateway, isn’t it?”
“That’s right. You ask for Mr. Linden, and tell him I want him to give
you a job. Tell him I will be down to see him about it in an hour or
so.”
“Will he put me at something?”
“I think he will. He has the concessions at all the meets for food
supplies and the like. That will bring you in touch with every angle of
the aeroplane business, and you look like a boy who would learn.”
“Just try me and see!” chuckled Hiram. “Thank you, sir, I’ll get
directly about this business.”
“Wait a minute—got any money?”
“No, sir, I haven’t.”
“There’s a dollar.”
“But I’m not begging, sir,” dissented Hiram. “If I get work——”
“You can hand it back pay day.”
Hiram came out with dancing eyes. He jumped up in the air, cracking his
heels together. Then, out of sheer jubilation, he slapped Dave on the
shoulder.
“I’ve got a job!” he cried.
“I’m very glad you have,” responded Dave heartily.
Hiram did not wait for any further talk. He started on a mad dash for
the other end of the grounds. A man was coming around the corner of the
little building, and Hiram very nearly ran into him. Dave had got up
from the bench to venture upon seeing Mr. King, when the newcomer
preceded him through the doorway. Dave considered that he was entitled
to the next interview with the airman. The latest arrival, however, was
so forcible and precipitate that Dave patiently resigned his chance.
The newcomer was very much excited. He was an old man, smart looking,
but very fat and fussy. Dave heard him break out in a stirring tone with
the words:
“It’s come, Mr. King.”
“Oh, you mean—ah, yes,” replied the airman, “your parachute suit?”
“Yes, a perfect full-sized one. See here, you know what I want. You said
you were very much interested in my patent.”
“That’s the truth, Mr. Dixon.”
“And that you would give it a trial.”
“I will, later. See here, my friend, I am engaged all day to-day.”
“Why, the meet is over?”
“Yes, but I have a contract for a private exhibition. There’s good money
in it, and I can’t disappoint my people.”
“How’s the next day?”
“I’ve got to go to the Dayton grounds to get ready for the opening day
at that meet. Tell you, Mr. Dixon, bring your device up to Dayton, and
I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“I am anxious to make a practical test right away.”
“There’s lots of the fellows here who will help you out.”
“Yes, and make a blunder, and queer my whole business. No, sir! The man
who won the endurance prize is the man for me, and your recommendation
would be worth more to me than that of any ten men in the aviation
line.”
“Why don’t you make the trial yourself, Mr. Dixon?” inquired the airman.
“Oh, yes!” laughed the old inventor, “I’d be a fine performer with my
clumsy bungling in an airship and my two hundred pounds, wouldn’t I!”
“That’s so. You had better pick out a lightweight for the first trial.”
“Where will I find one?” spoke Mr. Dixon in a musing tone. “You see, I
don’t expect a long drop on the first test. You know Boisan never ran
his biplane without wearing his padded helmet. All that can do, though,
is to break the shock of a fall. My parachute isn’t on the pad order at
all, nor to prevent a fall.”
“What does it do, then?” asked Mr. King.
“It reduces the rate of the drop and lands the wearer safe and sound.
The suit is a loose flowing garment fitted to a framework carried on the
back. The lower ends are secured to the ankles. When the aviator throws
out his arms, the garment spreads out like an umbrella. I am satisfied
if you once see my parachute dress work, you will give a good word for
it that will make it a success.”
“Well, Mr. Dixon,” replied the airman, “if you are anxious to have a
trial on the field here, I’ll find some one to give it a show, under my
direction. I hardly know where I will get my man, but I can probably
pick him up somewhere about the field. It’s a risky experiment, though.”
Dave Dashaway arose from the bench. Afterwards he wondered at his
audacity, but just at that moment he could not resist the quick impulse
that seized him.
He stepped through the doorway and turning past a half partition, faced
the two men whose overheard conversation had so interested him.
“Mr. King,” he said taking off his cap, and his heart beating rapidly at
his own temerity, “I would like to try that experiment.”
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