by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER XIII
A START IN BUSINESS
Dave Dashaway trembled with excitement and pleasure. He was proud andglad the way things had turned out. The aviator noticed the happy lookon 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 Iguess he won’t show up in time for the airship pictures. He is the onlyone 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 andgets knocked around in the funny pictures, and jumps from the seasidecliff or is blown up by dynamite in the tragic ones.”
“I see.”
“Now, like yesterday. The hero had to rescue the drowning heroine in theroaring mill stream. Our young friend here happened along in the nick oftime, and did the stunt nobly. None of the rest of the crowd could evenswim—this young fellow can, like a fish.”
“And now you expect him to fly?”
“Hardly that,” was the laughing rejoinder, “but in your exhibition wewant to bring in the usual little incidents to make an interestingstory, 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 tobegin the pictures?”
“The outfit will be here inside of an hour.”
“I will be on hand,” promised the aviator. “Come with me, Dashaway. Iwant to get that telegram to the city.”
Dave felt as if he was treading on air. It was in fact the suprememoment of his young life. He did not feel that he had done any grandthings, but telling the truth and doing his level best had put him inline with very promising prospects.
Mr. King hurried along with his brisk, bustling way, absorbed in thebusiness on his mind. When they reached the office of the grounds, hebeckoned Dave to follow him into the little compartment that answeredfor 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 wordsDave had written. “You cover it well. With that tell-tale scar on hisface, I think the young rascal who robbed you will be easy to find. AllI care for, though, is the medal. He will probably sell that and thewatch to some pawnbroker, and a liberal reward will lead the police tofind 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 dishonestperson, or trampled down out of sight in the mud? No, no, Dashaway, Icount it a big thing, you’re giving me my first hope of recovering themedal.”
Mr. King wrote out a lengthy telegram, ordering it sent, left someinstructions with the operator, and went outside again.
Here he was immediately surrounded by half a dozen persons. Among themwere newspaper reporters seeking information as to the aviator’s plansfor the next coming aero meet at Dayton. Professional airmen wanted todiscuss the programme ahead. Some agents with airship supplies took upsome of his time. It was half an hour before Mr. King got rid of hiscompany. 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 Icome. Hold on,” halting Dave, as he started to obey orders. “I want tosay a word. I call it all opportunity, the queer way you have run intomy affairs. I like your make up. The last assistant I had played memean. He’ll lose by it. I’m willing to do a good deal for a fellow whowill be loyal to his business. I put big faith in you. Don’t disappointme.”
“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 anydifferent about it than you do at this moment, and there will be noregrets.”
“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 knowhow to handle him.”
Dave started down the field so filled with joy that he could haveshouted out aloud. Up to this time his mind had been so occupied withaffairs outside of airships, that he had found no opportunity to viewthose he had seen in detail. Now he seemed to be a part of the greatunique activity surrounding him on every side.
“It’s wonderful, it’s grand!” he mused. “Oh, to think of my luck! Andthe friends I’ve met with!”
Dave’s eyes filled with grateful tears. He felt as if suddenly he hadfound his right place in life and a real home. The thought that he wasto see, survey and perhaps handle a real airship thrilled him withgladness.
“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 wouldhave halted him usually. He was anxious to get to the hangars. He hadnot yet examined the crack monoplane belonging to his employer. He knewits name, the _Aegis_, and had got a mere glimpse at its outlines. Nowhe was free to look it all over.
“Hold on there!”
To make a short cut to the hangars, Dave had passed between a part ofthe grandstand and a building where refreshments had been sold duringfull attendance at the meet. There were not many people around justthere, 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 himup 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, turningaround 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 whosefather had visited Mr. King less than two hours previously. Dave hadseen this youth only once before. It had been at a distance, too. Heknew that sullen, scowling face, however, at once.
The boy was taller and older than Dave. He was stockily built, andstrong. He stood with his fists raised, blocking Dave in against theplatform.
“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 nofellow 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 himand 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’sstubborn, 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 overgrownbully, but he was cornered, and it was not in his nature to show thewhite feather on any occasion.
“You’re bigger than I,” said Dave, backing to a firmer footing, “but Iwon’t let you or anybody else browbeat me without cause.”
“And I’m bigger than either of you!” roared an intruding voice. “Youyoung bully, make yourself scarce, or I’ll pick you up by the nape ofyour neck and drop you into that mud puddle over yonder!”
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