<h2 id='chap25'>CHAPTER XXV</h2>
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<div>THE FALSE BAROGRAPH</div>
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<p class='c011'>“He’s a wizard, but——”</p>
<p>The speaker, one of many gathered near the
grand stand of the International grounds, paused in
the middle of the sentence, and looked significantly
at his companion.</p>
<p>“I understand,” agreed the latter. “You want
to say that the fellow Valdec is an aviatic contortionist.
Whew! there’s a risky turn. And he’s
bobbed up all right. There’s not much practicability
or science in the stunt, though.”</p>
<p>The <i>Whirlwind</i> had gone up third in the last big
event of the meet. Valdec had completely overshadowed
his previous contestants. There was no
doubt as to his agility, daring and complete mastery
of his machine at critical junctures. He suggested
reckless bravado, and acted like a man not caring
one whit for life or limb.</p>
<p>“He’s hair-raising and blood-curdling, and that
is all,” declared Hiram. “But——”</p>
<p>“There’s his big stunt—looping the loop!” cried
the thrilled and really interested Bruce.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='191' id='Page_191'></span>There could not help but be vociferous applause
as a result of the marvellous gyrations of Valdec.
He was showing off his strongest points. To the
lover of sensations they were fascinating. To the
real, progressive airman, however, they showed
little in the way of grace or real utility.</p>
<p>For all that, the ever observant Hiram looked
sober and anxious as Valdec brought the <i>Whirlwind</i>
to center field, and was greeted with a real ovation.
Dave next received the signal to begin, and the
<i>Ariel</i> arose in the air.</p>
<p>“I’m tingling all over!” declared Hiram.</p>
<p>“Keep your nerves steady,” advised Mr.
Brackett, at his side. “Dave will, I am sure.”</p>
<p>“Pretty work, that,” pronounced a bystander,
and the staring, gaping Hiram echoed the sentiment
enthusiastically.</p>
<p>The <i>Whirlwind</i> had been a mad, erratic, dashing
creature full of strange turns and jerky movements.
Valdec had looped the loop twice, but it was with
a dive, rather than a swoop. The <i>Ariel</i> proceeded on
its course with a gliding movement until about
eight hundred feet up in the air. Then the pilot
began a spiral. The crowd watched the maneuver
breathlessly. There was not a break in the swift,
perfect circles, narrowing to a space not three times
the length of the biplane.</p>
<p>“Pretty neat, that!” sang out an admiring voice.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='192' id='Page_192'></span>“One—two—three” added a strident echo—“he’s
discounted the record!”</p>
<p>Three times in succession, far up aloft, the <i>Ariel</i>
had turned a complete loop-the-loop somersault.
So graceful, so easy it seemed to the expert young
aviator, that the maneuver was a pleasant contrast
to the rapid rush work of the venturesome Valdec.</p>
<p>A roar of commendation arose from the spectators.
Not yet, however, had Dave Dashaway won
his full laurels. The <i>Ariel</i> sailed away from its
recent field of action straightaway west. Then,
five hundred feet up in the air, within the full view
of every person on the ground, distinctly the <i>Ariel</i>
began “writing.”</p>
<p>“A-R-I-E-L”—in small letter script; every curve
and letter formation could be traced.</p>
<p>The watching crowd went wild with delight. As
the <i>Ariel</i> descended gracefully to the ground, even
the Syndicate crowd themselves knew that the day
had gone against them. The judges were of one
voice. The official blackboard gave to number five
thirty additional points.</p>
<p>“Ten points shy—oh, dear!” lamented Hiram.</p>
<p>“Mr. Dashaway has shown his mettle all the
same,” proclaimed Bruce proudly.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='193' id='Page_193'></span>“There’s nothing open for the <i>Ariel</i> class to-morrow,
the last day,” observed Hiram. “I suppose
the committee will give out the official award
of the big prize this evening.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Hiram! Hiram!” shouted Bruce three
hours later, bursting into the hangar where his
comrade was writing a letter to some home friends.
“You’re to come down to headquarters right
away.”</p>
<p>“That so? Who says it?” challenged Hiram in
his usual offhand way.</p>
<p>“Mr. Brackett. And Dave. Something’s up.
A row, I think.”</p>
<p>“A row? Why? what about?” questioned Hiram,
fully interested now.</p>
<p>“About the awards. I don’t know—I just guess.
I know this much, for Dave Dashaway told me that.
The committee of awards wants all our people, and
the Syndicate folks.”</p>
<p>“I’m such a small potato I can’t see why they
include me,” observed Hiram. “Unless—thunder!
if it’s about——”</p>
<p>“That barograph” he was about to add, but he
suppressed the utterance. All the way to the club
building, however, there was an excited flush on his
cheeks, and he was thinking hard and hopefully.</p>
<p>“<i>Ariel?</i> You’re to go in,” spoke the guard at
the door of the committee room—and the boys entered.
Hiram was last. He paused for a moment
as he passed a man seated somewhat back in the
shadow. In an instant he recognized the disguised
man of the restaurant.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='194' id='Page_194'></span>“Mr. Borden!” he spoke in a whisper. Then
he passed on. The tramp artist had placed a warning
finger to his lips.</p>
<p>Mr. Brackett and Dave sat slightly back of a
table around which were gathered the five official
committeemen. Opposite to them were Worthington,
Valdec and two others of their crowd. The
chairman of the committee took up a bundle of
papers and arose to his feet.</p>
<p>“All those interested in the matter under consideration
are here, I believe,” he observed. “Mr.
Worthington,” he continued, “we have to announce
a revision of the unofficial announcement of prizes
won.”</p>
<p>“How is that? What do you mean?” flared up
the fiery Valdec.</p>
<p>“Just this,” replied the chairman steadily, almost
sternly. “The committee has awarded the altitude
test to number five.”</p>
<p>“Why! see here!” shouted the choleric Valdec,
springing to his feet. “The barograph test”—but
the chairman silenced him with a dignified wave of
his hand and went on:</p>
<p>“You are barred from the grounds hereafter
and the Association will be notified. You can take
your choice with your entrant, Mr. Worthington:
a public exposure, or a quiet withdrawal from membership
in and privileges of the National Aero Association.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='195' id='Page_195'></span>“I cannot understand,” stammered Worthington,
uneasily.</p>
<p>“This gentleman will explain,” observed the
chairman and Borden advanced from the shadows,
minus his disguise.</p>
<p>It was a brief but conclusive story—that which
the artist tramp recited. He charged the Syndicate
people with conspiring to defeat the high aims of
aviatics. He claimed that Valdec had never made
the altitude flight and had substituted a “doctored”
barograph for the one the officers supplied to him at
the start of the contest.</p>
<p>“The man you employed to provide the fraudulent
instrument has been brought to us by Mr.
Borden,” proceeded the chairman. “His private
mark was on the barograph and the one removed is
in our possession, secured secretly by Mr. Borden
at your hangar.”</p>
<p>Dismay, exposure, defeat!—like some snarling
animal Valdec left the room. Humiliated and degraded
Worthington sneaked after him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='196' id='Page_196'></span>“You are credited with forty new points, Mr.
Dashaway,” announced the chairman of the committee,
“giving you a winning lead. The committee
has decided to award you the ten thousand dollar
prize.”</p>
<hr class='c013' />
<p>The grand event was over, the victor crowned,
and Dave Dashaway stood champion in his line,
eager for new laurels.</p>
<p>It all came to him pleasantly as he started
the <i>Ariel</i> homeward for the International grounds
after a brief pleasure flight.</p>
<p>The incidents of the past two days had been most
enjoyable. The Interstate Aero Company had won
approved recognition of their output, and their machine
had been driven by the top-notch artist in the
aviation field.</p>
<p>The result of the discovery of the diamonds had
made Bruce Beresford supremely happy. He could
now provide permanently for his little sister, Lois,
and he could afford to wait till the next season to
rejoin his young friends in their airship experiences.
His ears healed so that only a scar showed.</p>
<p>The diamond thief had undoubtedly smashed the
window of the old hut at Wayville to throw his
plunder into an obscure hiding place. The jeweler
was faithful as to the payment of the promised reward.
Then, when the business of the meet was
over Dave had gone on a little trip of his own.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='197' id='Page_197'></span>The young aviator was about fifteen miles from
his destination, when a swift biplane he had noticed
casually, crossed for the second time in front of
him and made a sudden flight aloft. Then it swung
around, followed the same course the <i>Ariel</i> was pursuing
and, putting on full speed, got directly above
him.</p>
<p>“That’s a queer maneuver,” observed Dave, and
the words had scarcely left his lips when there shot
down a dark object with a sputtering sparkling spot
of fire in its center. It struck the tail of the <i>Ariel</i>,
rebounded, descended perhaps a hundred feet and
exploded in mid air.</p>
<p>“Meant for me!” cried Dave, “but why? Who
is this new enemy——”</p>
<p>A yell fell upon the ears of the astonished pilot
of the <i>Ariel</i>. It proceeded from above. Dave ventured
one glance overhead. He was truly startled.</p>
<p>The rival biplane was in flames. The pilot had
given the wheel a wrench, and as the machine went
hurtling down, not thirty feet above the <i>Ariel</i>, he
tore himself from his seat and jumped.</p>
<p>Like a shot he struck the <i>Ariel</i> cockpit rail, and,
helpless, crippled, and apparently insensible, began
to slip across the wings. Dave reached for him and
pulled him into the machine.</p>
<p>“Just in time!” he breathed, his mind in a tumult.</p>
<p>Only by a dexterous movement did Dave save the
aeroplane from capsizing for his momentary inattention
to the wheel and the shock of the falling body
<span class="pagenum" title='198' id='Page_198'></span>had nearly wrecked the machine. His involuntary
passenger did not move. The other biplane fell
earthwards all aflame.</p>
<p>Dave had no idea as to the identity of his baffled
enemy, whom he decided must have been hurt by
striking the metal edge of the cockpit. He made for
the International grounds and landed directly in
font of the <i>Ariel</i> hangar.</p>
<p>“Help me get a man out,” he directed Hiram,
who stood awaiting the descent.</p>
<p>“What’s up now, Dave?” inquired his assistant,
leaning over and looking into the cockpit. “Why,
say—it’s Vernon!”</p>
<p>Dave was greatly startled. Into his mind flashed
the truth. Filled with malice and revenge because
he had lost a probably rich reward for putting
through his infamous plottings, Vernon had essayed
a final attack upon the young aviator.</p>
<p>“He tried to destroy the <i>Ariel</i>,” said Dave, “but
he seems hurt. Phone for an ambulance, Hiram.”</p>
<p>Vernon was, indeed, hurt. Both of his arms were
broken at the wrists. He would never drive an airship
again.</p>
<p>Good came of Dave’s care for him, miscreant as
he was. The old accomplices of Vernon abandoned
him in his wretched plight, but Dave saw that he
was given the best of care at a hospital.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='199' id='Page_199'></span>Vernon broke down under this kind treatment.
He not only confessed his share in the plots of the
Syndicate, but betrayed the secrets of old Martin
Dawson.</p>
<p>Not much of the Beresford fortune was wrested
from that schemer, but at least Bruce Beresford
had the satisfaction of so working out affairs that
Dawson could no longer interfere with him or his
little sister, Lois.</p>
<p>“You are a credit to your friends,” proclaimed
Mr. Brackett, as he handed Dave Dashaway the ten
thousand dollar check that represented the first
grand prize of the International meet.</p>
<p>“And what lots of them he’s got!” cried Hiram
Dobbs.</p>
<p>“I hope I’m somewhere on the list,” modestly intimated
Bruce Beresford.</p>
<p>“Be sure of that,” was the hearty reply. “So
much so, that, when we start in for new triumphs,
next season, I hope to enroll you as one of the crew
of the <i>Ariel</i>,” said Dave.</p>
<p>“Fine!” cried Bruce. “That would suit me
down to the ground—to become an airman like you,
Mr. Dashaway.”</p>
<p>“You can’t become an airman like Dave,” broke
in Hiram, loyally. “There isn’t a man that flies
who can come up to him. He’s the champion, and in
a class by himself.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum" title='200' id='Page_200'></span>“And that’s the truth,” added Mr. Brackett.
“There is only one Dave Dashaway.”</p>
<p>“Then I propose three cheers for him!” cried
Bruce.</p>
<p>“Whoop! Hurray! That’s the talk!” burst out
Hiram. And then the cheers were given with vigor,
and a “tiger” was added.</p>
<p>And here let us say good-bye to Dave Dashaway,
Air Champion.</p>
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<div>THE END.</div>
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