A START IN BUSINESS
Dave Dashaway trembled with excitement and pleasure. He was proud and
glad the way things had turned out. The aviator noticed the happy look
on his face, and nodded encouragingly.
“All right,” spoke Mr. Alden. “I see you’ve got first show. Trouble is,
our man we depended on, a fellow named Banks, failed us yesterday, and I
guess he won’t show up in time for the airship pictures. He is the only
one in our crowd who will do what we call the desperate stunts.”
“What do you call those?” inquired the airman.
“Oh, Banks is a regular acrobat. He’s the man who falls down stairs and
gets knocked around in the funny pictures, and jumps from the seaside
cliff or is blown up by dynamite in the tragic ones.”
“I see.”
“Now, like yesterday. The hero had to rescue the drowning heroine in the
roaring mill stream. Our young friend here happened along in the nick of
time, and did the stunt nobly. None of the rest of the crowd could even
swim—this young fellow can, like a fish.”
“And now you expect him to fly?”
“Hardly that,” was the laughing rejoinder, “but in your exhibition we
want to bring in the usual little incidents to make an interesting
story, you know, and Getaway here——”
“You mean Dashaway.”
“Yes, he could work in famously.”
“Well, we will see about it,” said Mr. King. “How would you want to
begin the pictures?”
“The outfit will be here inside of an hour.”
“I will be on hand,” promised the aviator. “Come with me, Dashaway. I
want to get that telegram to the city.”
Dave felt as if he was treading on air. It was in fact the supreme
moment of his young life. He did not feel that he had done any grand
things, but telling the truth and doing his level best had put him in
line with very promising prospects.
Mr. King hurried along with his brisk, bustling way, absorbed in the
business on his mind. When they reached the office of the grounds, he
beckoned Dave to follow him into the little compartment that answered
for a telegraph office.
“Give me the description you wrote out,” he said. “Good for you,
Dashaway,” he added with satisfaction, as he ran his eye over the words
Dave had written. “You cover it well. With that tell-tale scar on his
face, I think the young rascal who robbed you will be easy to find. All
I care for, though, is the medal. He will probably sell that and the
watch to some pawnbroker, and a liberal reward will lead the police to
find them for me.”
“My losing those things is going to cost you a lot of money, Mr. King,”
said Dave regretfully.
“And suppose that sweater of mine had been found by some dishonest
person, or trampled down out of sight in the mud? No, no, Dashaway, I
count it a big thing, you’re giving me my first hope of recovering the
medal.”
Mr. King wrote out a lengthy telegram, ordering it sent, left some
instructions with the operator, and went outside again.
Here he was immediately surrounded by half a dozen persons. Among them
were newspaper reporters seeking information as to the aviator’s plans
for the next coming aero meet at Dayton. Professional airmen wanted to
discuss the programme ahead. Some agents with airship supplies took up
some of his time. It was half an hour before Mr. King got rid of his
company. Then he came up to Dave, his watch in his hand.
“See here, Dashaway,” he spoke, “I want to ask you a question.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Dave attentively.
“Do you want to go to work for me?”
“Do I!—” faltered Dave. “It’s been my dream ever since I heard of you.”
“Good enough. You’re engaged. Go down to the hangars and wait till I
come. Hold on,” halting Dave, as he started to obey orders. “I want to
say a word. I call it all opportunity, the queer way you have run into
my affairs. I like your make up. The last assistant I had played me
mean. He’ll lose by it. I’m willing to do a good deal for a fellow who
will be loyal to his business. I put big faith in you. Don’t disappoint
me.”
“Say,” began Dave in a great gulp, and he could not bring the words out,
he was so worked up.
“I know what you would say,” spoke the airman quickly. “Never feel any
different about it than you do at this moment, and there will be no
regrets.”
“There’s only one thing troubles me, Mr. King,” observed Dave.
“What’s that?”
“My guardian. I ran away from home.”
“Good for you. From what you tell me, that miserly old rascal, Warner,
won’t waste any time or money hunting you up. If he does, I think I know
how to handle him.”
Dave started down the field so filled with joy that he could have
shouted out aloud. Up to this time his mind had been so occupied with
affairs outside of airships, that he had found no opportunity to view
those he had seen in detail. Now he seemed to be a part of the great
unique activity surrounding him on every side.
“It’s wonderful, it’s grand!” he mused. “Oh, to think of my luck! And
the friends I’ve met with!”
Dave’s eyes filled with grateful tears. He felt as if suddenly he had
found his right place in life and a real home. The thought that he was
to see, survey and perhaps handle a real airship thrilled him with
gladness.
“It will be like getting into some palace of wonders,” he reflected,
“and the grand chance to learn from the star man of them all, Mr. King.”
Dave hurried by many a group surrounding aeroplane models that would
have halted him usually. He was anxious to get to the hangars. He had
not yet examined the crack monoplane belonging to his employer. He knew
its name, the _Aegis_, and had got a mere glimpse at its outlines. Now
he was free to look it all over.
“Hold on there!”
To make a short cut to the hangars, Dave had passed between a part of
the grandstand and a building where refreshments had been sold during
full attendance at the meet. There were not many people around just
there, and this short cut took Dave into a still more lonely space.
Some one had come up behind him, butted into him forcibly, and sent him
up against a wooden platform.
“I want to speak to you,” sounded a voice strange to Dave.
“You’ve got a nice way of introducing yourself,” began Dave, turning
around with some asperity. “Hello, I know you.”
“Do? Then there’s no need of any explanations,” jeered his assailant.
Dave recognized the latter instantly. It was Jerry Dawson, the boy whose
father had visited Mr. King less than two hours previously. Dave had
seen this youth only once before. It had been at a distance, too. He
knew that sullen, scowling face, however, at once.
The boy was taller and older than Dave. He was stockily built, and
strong. He stood with his fists raised, blocking Dave in against the
platform.
“What do you want?” demanded the latter.
“I want to ask you a question.”
“Ask away.”
“Have you gone to work for King?”
“What if I have?”
“Then you’ve landed in the wrong box, I can tell you that. I’ll stand no
fellow cutting in on my rights.”
“What do you call your rights?” inquired Dave calmly.
“I’ve worked for King ever since the season began. I’ve slaved for him
and helped him get the endurance prize.”
“Indeed?” remarked Dave trying to suppress a smile.
“Now he’s in a muff. He knows he can’t get along without me, but he’s
stubborn, and so am I. You leave him alone, and don’t cut in on my job,
or I’ll make it warm for you.”
“What do you expect I’m going to do?” inquired Dave.
“Has King hired you?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re going to start in with him?”
“I am.”
“After what I tell you?”
“Yes, that won’t make any difference,” said Dave.
“Then I’m going to whip you.”
“All right.”
“You won’t take a warning.”
“Not from you.”
“Look out!”
Dave determined to defend himself. He was no match for the big overgrown
bully, but he was cornered, and it was not in his nature to show the
white feather on any occasion.
“You’re bigger than I,” said Dave, backing to a firmer footing, “but I
won’t let you or anybody else browbeat me without cause.”
“And I’m bigger than either of you!” roared an intruding voice. “You
young bully, make yourself scarce, or I’ll pick you up by the nape of
your neck and drop you into that mud puddle over yonder!”
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