<h2 id='chap10'>CHAPTER X</h2>
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<div>A FRIEND IN DISGUISE</div>
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<p class='c011'>“Dave, I’m famous!”</p>
<p>Hiram Dobbs burst into the little space just beyond
the threshold of the hangar, which he had
called “the office.” The partitioned-off corner
held some chairs and a table. Dave was busy
glancing over a catalogue of aeroplane accessories,
and he looked up with an inquisitive smile at his
excitable assistant.</p>
<p>“Well, what now, Hiram?” he questioned.</p>
<p>“Look—your picture, my picture, the burning
building, the <i>Ariel</i>. ‘Daring aeronaut’—that’s
you. ‘Heroic assistant’—that’s me. See, isn’t it
great!”</p>
<p>The impetuous speaker had just come in from
breakfast. He spread out a morning newspaper.
Its first four columns held a vivid description of the
warehouse fire. There had certainly been reporters
at the scene, and photographers also, for four excellent
pictures illuminated the printed page.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='77' id='Page_77'></span>There was one scene of the swoop of the <i>Ariel</i>
to the roof of the building where the stenographer
had stood, with clasped hands gazing helplessly
down at the awed crowd, fourteen stories below.</p>
<p>Then there was a view of the ruins after the fire,
showing a low smouldering heap, all that remained
of the skyscraper.</p>
<p>When the <i>Ariel</i> had last landed, the photographer
had made a close snap shot of pilot and assistant.
The aeroplane, Dave, and Hiram were all clearly
shown. The final picture was a view of thousands
of persons waving hats and handkerchiefs in enthusiastic
adieu to the machine disappearing over
their heads.</p>
<p>“It’s a smart fellow who did that story,” declared
Hiram. “Regular poet, too. ‘Nervy young aviator,’
‘heroic lone figure of the handsome young
fellow who ran the risk of his life to save a poor
frenzied girl.’ Hum! I’ll have to look out if I’m in
that list. How they learned who we were, and got
your whole history, Dave, shows positive genius.”</p>
<p>“We were not interviewed,” responded the young
airman, “so I suppose they naturally traced us here,
and got their information from the manager. It
makes quite a pleasant thrill, to see ourselves pictured
as doing some good in the world; doesn’t
it?”</p>
<p>“I know some folks who didn’t have any pleasing
thrills over the affair,” remarked Hiram.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='78' id='Page_78'></span>“Who is that?” questioned his chum.</p>
<p>“The Syndicate crowd. I came past there from
the restaurant. One of them had a morning paper.
Valdec saw me and scowled. Worthington looked
up, and I saw his lips move as if he were wishing us
up at Halifax. They don’t wish us any good luck
I’m sure. But at headquarters the manager was delighted.
He came up to me when I was eating
breakfast, clapped me on the shoulder and smiled
all over. ‘Tell Dashaway he’s given the meet a
capital advertisement,’ he said. You see, it mentions
that you will be one of the contestants in the
International, Dave.”</p>
<p>Hiram was in good humor over the event. He
whistled and sang in his routine work about the
hangar. Dave was his friend and he was proud of
him, and not for a moment doubted that he would
“scoop up every prize in sight,” as he expressed it.
When his chum sent him after some frame tape,
down to the supply depot on the grounds, Hiram
purposely took a detour by way of the Syndicate
camp.</p>
<p>“Guess I’ve got a bad streak in me somewhere,”
he chuckled, “for it sort of satisfies me to think
we’re making that crowd wriggle. Hello—well,
never! Oh, say, hello!”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='79' id='Page_79'></span>Hiram walked on with sudden activity. He was
passing the central hangar of the Syndicate people,
when he noticed a man twenty feet ahead of him.
This individual chanced to turn his face sideways.
In an instant Hiram recognized him, and the youth
came to a sudden stop for he ran squarely into the
man.</p>
<p>“Mr. Borden!” Hiram cried. “Say, I’m
awful glad——”</p>
<p>“Hush!” came the caution.</p>
<p>It was the tramp artist. He was now neatly
dressed. The frowsiness he had shown at the Midlothian
grounds was gone, and he seemed prosperous.
As he evidently in turn recognized his friend
of the past, a glad gleam came over his face, and
then he became flustered. He seized Hiram by the
arm, turned his back to the people near the hangar,
and whispered quickly:</p>
<p>“Not a word! No names! Act out what I start
in on.” And then in a tone of affected ferocity he
gave Hiram a vigorous shake. “Who are you running
into, clumsy!” he shouted at the top of his
voice. “Get away from here, and stay away!”</p>
<p>He gave Hiram a swing and a push. For only a
moment was the latter bewildered. Then he was
almost stunned. Amid the jeers of the Syndicate
crowd near the hangars he went spinning almost
twenty feet, stumbled and slid flat on the ground
for a yard or two.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='80' id='Page_80'></span>“I’ll get even with you!” he yelled at Borden,
shaking his fist at him, affecting a boylike rage at
his mistreatment, and then setting off on a run as
his pretended assailant made a feint of pursuing.
“Oh, say,” continued Hiram to himself, “Dave
must know about this right away. ‘Acting,’ Borden
called it. Good! Great! I see through it now!”</p>
<p>Hiram forgot about his errand for the time
being. He was a quiet thinker, and he fancied he
had made a big discovery. He rushed in on his
chum, flustered, perspiring and gasping for breath.</p>
<p>“Dave,” he almost shouted, “that man—the
tramp down at the Midlothian—you know—”</p>
<p>“Yes,” answered his chum, “Mr. Borden—what
about him?”</p>
<p>“He’s here! He’s with the Syndicate crowd. I
saw him. Listen,” and the words piled over each
other recklessly as he recited his recent adventure.
“Now what do you think of that? Plain as the
nose on your face. ‘Acting,’ see? I took him unawares.
He’s playing a part—for our benefit!”</p>
<p>“I believe you’re right,” agreed Dave thoughtfully.
“It looks that way, anyhow. I don’t know
why he should be so interested in our affairs and
go to a lot of trouble to help us——”</p>
<p>“I do,” pronounced Hiram energetically. “I
saw more of him than you did. He’s no ordinary
tramp. You treated him like a gentleman and he
appreciated it. You have a way of making everybody
like you, Dave.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='81' id='Page_81'></span>“Thank you,” answered the young aviator,
“but how about Valdec and the Syndicate outfit,
Hiram?”</p>
<p>“I meant everybody good,” corrected Hiram.
“That proves my argument. Borden is good. He
shows it, good all over and all the way through. I
think he has some track of the fellow whose picture
he drew and that the trail led him straight to the
meet here. Don’t you see? Vincent is in with
Worthington and his crowd and Borden has found
it out.”</p>
<p>Dave did not reply to the suggestion, but in his
own mind he secretly sided with the views of his
imaginative assistant. From the manner in which
Borden had just acted, it would seem that his being
with the Syndicate crowd was no accidental connection.
If its motive lay in a friendly move on
behalf of the airship chums, it was certain that the
tramp artist had discovered something of value.</p>
<p>“If things are as you say,” spoke Dave, “we will
be sure to hear from Borden in some way before
long. It is evident that he does not want us to
recognize him as a friend. That being so, he will
act with caution in getting word to us.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='82' id='Page_82'></span>“You’ll find out I’m guessing right,” asserted
Hiram, “you’ll find out that this Vernon, out of
revenge, and because he’s paid, is working for
Valdec to get us out of the contest.”</p>
<p>Hiram was much excited the rest of that day,
expecting word from Borden, which did not come.
The episode of the morning had somewhat disturbed
Dave. If there was a systematic plot on foot to
keep the Ariel out of the lists, extreme vigilance
was necessary.</p>
<p>The management had a night patrol, but more to
look after things in general than each individual
hangar. Dave had known one Dennis Rohan at a
former meet he had attended, a man who traveled
about selling favors and souvenirs. He was an old
man with one limb, crippled, not very active in getting
about, but sober and reliable. Until the meet
opened he had nothing particular to do. Dave
sought him out. He arranged that Rohan was to
act as watchman of the hangar, coming on duty at
dusk, and remaining until daylight.</p>
<p>The usual practice of the day was gone through
that afternoon. Hiram showed a good deal of restlessness,
however. Just before supper Dave came
up to him where he sat on a bench near the hangar
looking in the direction of the Syndicate camp.</p>
<p>“See here, Hiram,” spoke the young aviator,
“you’re letting this Borden affair get on your
nerves, and it won’t do. I’m looking out for tricks,
and things will develop of themselves. Get your
<span class="pagenum" title='83' id='Page_83'></span>mind in a new rut. What do you say to a flight out
over the lake? It will be moonlight shortly after
dark and the air spin will make us sleep soundly.”</p>
<p>“That suits me,” proclaimed Hiram, his usual
animation restored—“you mean in the <i>Ariel</i>?”</p>
<p>“Why, just as you choose. If you want to take
the <i>Scout</i>, it will give you fine practice.”</p>
<p>“That will be fine,” said Hiram, and just at dusk,
after their evening meal, he ran the <i>Scout</i> out of
the hangar near the high fence surrounding the
grounds, and busied himself seeing that the machine
was in perfect trim for the flight.</p>
<p>Dave was similarly employed with the <i>Ariel</i>, inside
the hangar. He was ready to start out, but
glancing at his watch and discovering that Rohan
would be due on his night duty within a few
minutes, he decided to await his arrival to give him
some instructions.</p>
<p>“She’s in prime trim,” voiced his young assistant
outside, as he climbed into the pilot seat and ran
his hand over the various wheels, levers and buttons,
to see that everything was in order. “Why doesn’t
Dave come?” and he was about to give a customary
signal whistle when he exclaimed with a start
“Hello! what’s that, now?”</p>
<p>It was a shot, just outside the fence, and it was
followed by shouts. Then there was a scraping
sound on the surface of the outside of the boards.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='84' id='Page_84'></span>“I declare!” cried Hiram, as a human head
bobbed into view over the top of the fence. There
was another shot. “Hi, you! what’s up?” challenged
Hiram.</p>
<p>In a great hurry, the owner of the head pulled
himself into view. He dropped to the inside, stumbled,
recovered himself and then glared all about
him. His glance lit on the machine and then on its
pilot.</p>
<p>Whoever he was, whatever his purposes, the sight
of the outfit seemed suddenly to infuse him with an
idea. He gave the machine a push, sent it spinning
ahead, ran around to its side and leaping up began
climbing over the planes.</p>
<p>“Here! here!” shouted the astonished Hiram,
“get off there. You’ll smash things.”</p>
<p>“Start her up,” ordered the intruder, “do it
quick, without a word, or—”</p>
<p>The speaker must have known something about
flying machines, for with a dexterous move he
landed in the cockpit. As he did so, he completed
his menacing words by holding a pistol close to the
head of the startled Hiram Dobbs.</p>
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