by Roy Rockwood
CHAPTER XVI
THE YOUNG AVIATOR
“There he is, Dave,” said Hiram Dobbs.
“Yes, that is Jerry Dawson, sure enough.”
“You see he is here.”
“I knew before this that he was,” replied Dave. “Mr. King told me thismorning that young Dawson and his father were both working for an airmannamed Russell.”
“Well, Dave,” said Hiram in quite a serious tone, “I want you to lookout for that fellow.”
“Why? I never did him any harm.”
“Because I’m around a good deal, and I hear a lot of things you don’t.That Jerry Dawson is a selfish, vicious boy. His father, they say, isalmost as bad, and the man they are working for, Russell, has beenbarred from some meets on account of winning an altitude race by atrick.”
“I’ve heard of Russell, too,” responded Dave. “He’s no friend of Mr.King, and that’s enough for me. As to Jerry, though, I have no businesswith him, and don’t intend to have if I can help it.”
“He’ll cross your path in some mean way, you mark my words,” said Hiramwarningly. “He’s got an idea that he owes Mr. King a grudge, and he’scrazy to pay it off. Down by the south pylons early this morning, I sawhim talking to two of the roughest looking fellows I ever met. You wasat your practice, and Jerry pointed you out to the men, and waswhispering to them—something about you, I’ll bet.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him, but I’m not a bit scared,” said Dave.
Hiram spoke of pylons just now as if he had known what they meant allhis life. It was nearly a week after his first meeting with Dave, and avast improvement was visible in the manner, position and finances of thehumble but ambitious farm lad.
Hiram had gone to work with a vengeance. Mr. King had told him thatthere were many steps to the ladder leading to fame and fortune in theaviation field, and Hiram had taken this literally.
“Why, I’m willing to scrub floors, work as candy butcher, tar ropes,wash dishes, peddle programmes, anything honest to reach that firstrung,” he had told Dave back at Fairfield. “I’ll make good every step Itake, no matter how slow or hard it is, I’m going to become an aviator,like yourself, Dave.”
“Me an aviator?” smiled Dave. “You flatter me, Hiram.”
“Do I?” retorted Hiram. “Well, then, so does Mr. King. And your teacher,old Grimshaw. He says he never saw a person take to the business likeyou do. Mr. King was bragging about you, too, down at the officeyesterday. He actually talked about entering you in one of the racesnext week.”
Dave flushed with pleasure. He was too sensible to imagine himself afull-fledged aviator, or anything like it. At the same time, he couldnot deny that he had learned a great many new things within the past tendays.
He did not look much like the tired, dusty and threadbare boy who hadleft Brompton hungry, barefooted and practically penniless. The onehundred feet descent from the _Aegis_ in the old inventor’s parachutegarment had been a complete success. It had put Dave in funds, too, forMr. Dixon had given him a ten dollar bill for his services.
“I don’t pretend to be much more than a rediscoverer as to my parachutedevice,” Dixon acknowledged. “It’s up to date, and it does what I claimfor it, though. Tell you, Dashaway, I’ll be over to the Dayton meet, andI’ll add a five dollar bill to every one hundred feet you drop with myapparatus.”
“It really does work, doesn’t it, Mr. King?” Dave asked of the aviator alittle later.
“Oh, yes,” replied the airman, somewhat indifferently. “It won’t sellmuch, though, outside of amateurs.”
“Why not?”
“A professional won’t admit any lack of skill or pluck, any more than acrack swimmer would use a life preserver. Another thing, a crackoperator can’t be hampered with a suit tied around his ankles. Stillanother thing, when the moment arrives for an airman to desert the ship,things are so desperate he hasn’t much chance of jumping clear of themachine.”
Dave had also received some money from the motion picture manager. ThenMr. King handed him what was due him of a modest salary for the brokenweek.
Saturday afternoon Mr. King had arranged to ship his traps to Dayton,all except the monoplane, in which he and his young assistant made thetrip.
Dave found his friend, Hiram, on the new grounds. The country boy was inhigh spirits. He had worked tirelessly while at Fairfield. When therewere no visitors to the grounds, he went into the town. He sold out alot of leftover souvenirs, and that Saturday afternoon boasted gleefullyof being for the first time in his life the possessor of ten dollars.
“All my own,” he announced, “and I’m going to tidy up a bit. Come andhelp me pick out a cheap suit, Dave.”
“Yes, and I need a complete outfit myself,” explained Dave. “I tell you,Hiram, this is a great day for two poor fellows who hadn’t a quarterbetween them a week ago.”
“And see what we are learning,” added Hiram. “If ever airshipping getsto be the go for traveling about, we’ll be in right on the jump, won’twe?”
Mr. King was pleased to see the improved appearance of his youngapprentice in a neat sensible suit of clothes. He had taken a decidedliking to Dave, who was quick, reliable and accommodating. Dave feltlike a bird given its freedom after a long and irksome captivity. Hishead was full of aviation all of the time, however, and the variousairmen he got acquainted with were all willing and glad to answer hisquestions about this and that detail of the different make machines.
Monday morning, Mr. King had taken Dave down to a roped-off section ofthe aviation field. It held a tent covering an old type airplane, andalso housing a queer old fellow with one arm, whom the airman introducedto Dave as Mr. Grimshaw.
“Here’s the young fellow I was telling you about,” said Mr. King.“You’ll find him a likely pupil.”
“I’ll soon know it, if that’s so,” responded the gruff, grim old fellow.“Put him right through the regular course of sprouts, eh?”
“That’s what I want. It’s what he wants, too. Make it special, Grimshaw.I’ve great hopes of him, and don’t want him worked in a crowd.”
Dave understood that his kind employer was spending some money for hisinstruction. He felt duly grateful. He entered into his work with vimand ardor, determined to make rapid progress, to show Mr. King how heappreciated his friendly interest in him.
For three days Dave was with Grimshaw from ten to twelve o’clock in themorning and two to four in the afternoon. The rest of the time he washelping about the little building, where Mr. King made his headquarters.His employer was preparing to enter for the first day’s altitude prize.There was practicing to do, and the _Aegis_ needed constant attention.Dave now knew how to oil it, keep the tanks full and clean up themonoplane.
Dave had heard that his gruff old tutor, Grimshaw, had been quite aballoonist in his time. A fall from an airship had crippled him. He wasuseful in his line, however, kept pace with all the new wrinkles inaviation, and ran a kind of school for amateurs.
From the first step in learning how to run the airplane, to the pointwhen with a wild cheer Dave felt himself safe in making a brief flightall by himself, our hero’s progress was one of unceasing interest anddelight.
The first step was to learn how to glide. Dave aboard the glider,Grimshaw and an assistant helped get the airplane under way. Theycarried the weight of the machine and overcame its head resistance byrunning forward at its own rate of speed.
Over the course Dave ran and repeated. As the glider cut into the air,the wind caused by the running caught under the uplifted edge of thecurved planes, buoying up the machine and causing it to rise. At firstDave lifted only a foot or two clear of the ground. Then he projectedhis feet slightly forward, so as to shift the center of gravity a trifleand bring the edges of the glider on an exact level parallel with theground.
“You see,” old Grimshaw would say, “you scoop up the advancing air andrise upon it. Keep the planes steady, for if they til
t the air isspilled.”
Dave soon learned the rudiments. He knew that in his first experiment hemust watch out that the rear end of the skids or the tail did not scrapeover the turf or slap the ground hard and break off. He kept the machinealways under control, so it would not get tail heavy. He guarded againstwing deflection, and the second day felt proud as a king when his tutorrelented from his usual grimness, and told him quite emphatically thathe would “do.”
“Never stubbed the toe of the machine, and that’s pretty fine for abeginner,” commented the veteran airman.
It was not until Dave had a chance at a real biplane that he felt thathe had gained a glorious promotion. He spent hours looking over atechnical book Mr. King had loaned him. He hung around old Grimshawevery spare moment he could find. It was the afternoon on his thirdday’s tuition when Dave started his first real flight.
He had learned the perfect use of the rudder from running the airplaneup and down the ground. Dave knew the danger of leaving the courseunexpectedly in his frequent practice runs. He knew how to gauge a rushof air against the face, how to use the elevator as a brake to keep frompitching forward. Dave had mastered a heap of important details, andfelt strong confidence in himself.
Dave rose a few feet from the ground with the motor wide open. He movedthe rudder very gingerly. The switch was of the knife variety, and thethrottle and advance spark were in the form of pedals working againstsprings.
“Ready,” called out Grimshaw, in his strange forbidding voice.
“Ready I am,” warbled Dave, keen for the contest of his skill.
“Then let her go.”
The biplane took a superb shoot into the air.
Dave was not afraid of forgetting how to run the machine straight ahead.He had watched Mr. King at the level too often for that. He got fairlyaloft, tried coasting, veered, struck a new level, and worked theailerons to decrease any tendency for tipping.
On his second turn Dave had to use the emergency brake, the stout bar ofsteel on the skid near the rear end. He banked on a spirited whirl, gothis level, circled the course twice, and came back to the ground flushedwith excitement and delight, without so much as a wrinkle put in thestaunch aircraft.
It was on this account that Dave felt proud and then modest, as hisstaunch friend, Hiram, referred to him as an aviator. He had entireconfidence now in his ability to manage an airship alone. Dave had somepretty ambitious dreams as he went on his way. Great preparations werebeing made for the meet, which was to open the next morning.
Dave kept busy about the _Aegis_ quarters. Just at dusk Mr. King senthim to the town near by to order some supplies from a hardware store.Dave attended to his commissions and started back for the grounds anhour later.
Just as he passed through the crowd about the main entrance to theaviation field our hero turned as he heard a voice say quickly and in ameaning way:
“There he is!”
“Yes, it’s the Dashaway fellow,” was responded.
Dave made out two forms skulking into the shadow of the office building.Then some passersby shut them out from view.
“Hello,” said Dave to himself, “that sounds and looks suspicious.”
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