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Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane

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<h1 id="id01337" style="margin-top: 5em">CHAPTER XIX</h1> <h5 id="id01338">THE SEARCHLIGHT</h5> "Hallo! Hallo!" Dave made the echoes ring with the loud call as he moved up and down and across the queer basin, or cairn, where they had landed in the Monarch II the night previous. He had awakened just at daylight to find Hiram Dobbs mysteriously missing. Dave was not worried at the first, but as he looked around and then explored the immediate neighborhood, he began to get mystified, if not alarmed. Neither did his vigorous shouting bring any response. Dave came back to the camp spot to make a new discovery that puzzled him. On the ground near where they had slept were Hiram's coat, vest, shoes and cap. "Why, I can't understand this at all," mused the young aviator. "Hiram couldn't have done much in the way of climbing up, he appears to be nowhere within hail, and he is not given to play tricks." Dave did not wait to eat anything. He was really concerned about his comrade. He got a long tree branch, stripped it, and went along the side of the cairn, poking in and out among the dense dumps of shrubbery. "Hello," he exclaimed suddenly, as disturbing some vines he saw an opening, and not twenty feet away a natural rocky tunnel, "daylight, and the waves of the lake. I think I understand now." Dave penetrated the passage. As he came out at the other end, he found he faced a rock-strewn stretch of sand. The waves of the lake lapped this. In the distance he could make out Anseton, and nearer still, about a mile distant, the main shore. The shore he was on terminated in a ridge of rocks that ran far out into the water. Dave wondered if the exploring spirit had moved Hiram to attempt an entire circle about the island. "He went away in swimming trim," thought Dave, "so that may be so. I'll go out on that ledge of rocks and explore a little myself." "Hello, Dave Dashaway!" sang out an exultant voice, just as Dave was about to remove his shoes. Around the ledge of rock came a light skiff. The oarsman was Dave's missing comrade. He drove the boat upon the sandy beach and leaped out with a gay laugh. "Why, Hiram," exclaimed the young aviator in marked surprise. "It's me," chuckled Hiram. "Stole a march on you. Nearly dry," he added, shaking his clinging garments. "And oh! what a swim." "You have been to the mainland?" questioned Dave. "Where else? When you said 'swim' last night, it gave me an idea. I'm some swimmer, Dave Dashaway. Always was. Took the prize in a contest in Plum Creek back at home one Fourth of July. I found a way out of that shut in place and made a jolly dive for shore." "But the skiff?" "You'll need one, won't you?" challenged Hiram. "Why, yes. I intended hiring one when I got across from the island." "So you said, and I acted. I did better than hiring a boat, Dave." "How is that?" "Bought one outright. I took my money with me. Found an old fellow who lets out a lot of boats for fishing, and made a bargain. The skiff isn't the staunchest craft on the lake. Leaks a little, and one oar has been split and mended, but it's all right for our little use. Four dollars and a half—and we can sell it for something when we get through using it." "You're a great fellow, Hiram, I must confess," said Dave admiringly. "I'd like to do something to help on this trip of ours, you know." "You've done a good deal this time, I can tell you that," declared Dave. "I can manage all my plans finely, now." They pulled the boat into the shelter of some rocks. Then they returned to the rocky hollow. A good breakfast was in order. Dave announced the importance of his getting to Anseton at once. An hour later the little skiff was launched once more. Dave rowed over to the mainland and lined the shore till well into city waters. He secured the skiff near a public pier, and started on foot for his destination. Left to himself on the island, Hiram proceeded to dry his clothing. Then he puttered about the machine. He read for an hour or two in a book on aeronautics he found in the basket, well on towards the afternoon. Hiram got tired of waiting for Dave. He went through the tunnel finally and roamed about on the rocky shore. There was more of scenery and variety here. The youth watched the boats in the distance. Then he made out the little skiff he had bought that morning making its way in and out among other craft between the island, and the mainland. "What's the news, Dave?" inquired Hiram, as they gained the camp after securing the skiff where it could not be easily seen or found. "The best ever," reported Dave cheerily. "Tell me about it, won't you?" "Well, I saw Mr. Price." "Is he here at Anseton?" "Yes, with his men. I had a long talk with him. He feels pretty good to know that we got here safely with the Monarch II. I told him all about the place where the moving picture man saw Jerry Dawson and the Chinaman. He thinks that is an excellent clew." "I should think it was," said Hiram. "He wants us to try and discover the Drifter. He says it's only a question of time, he and his men running down the smugglers. You see, Hiram, we are interested mainly in finding the aero-hydroplane, and getting it back to the Interstate people." "That's so." "And we must think of that first." "I understand." "We will make a long trip tonight—clear across the lake." "Suppose you get a sight of the Drifter?" "Then we'll know that it is really here, won't we?" "Yes, but are you going to jog right into them and capture them?" "Hardly," laughed Dave. "I hope if we do come across the Drifter, that we can follow it or keep it company, or find out where it is hidden away in the daytime. We will have to run across it before we can decide what circumstances will lead us to do." "They're an ugly crowd—the Dawsons, and probably the fellows with them, too." "I realize that. Mr. Price insisted on my taking these," and Dave began opening a boxlike package he had brought with him in the skiff. "Hello," cried Hiram, as two good sized weapons and some boxes of cartridges were disclosed. "Do we have to use them?" "I hope not," replied Dave, "but Mr. Price said we might come to a pinch where we could use them to show we were not unprotected, and to scare any crowd that tried to interfere with us." "Well, it begins to look like real business," commented Hiram. "That's what we're here for." "Yes, indeed." They had no difficulty in getting the Monarch II aloft, the hollow extending for several hundred feet. The night was ideal for a secret sky voyage. A slight mist hung over the ground, but at a height of five hundred feet the air was perfectly clear. There was bright starlight, and against the radiance they could make out flying birds quite a distance away. Dave took a route across the lake diagonally from Anseton. They skirted the other shore for about ten miles. Then they recrossed the lake. The machine made a sweep along the coast line. "Well, Dave," remarked his trusty assistant, "we've run across no air bird so far." "I didn't expect to, all at once," was Dave's reply. "We can only keep at it." "And trust to luck—I say!" Hiram interrupted himself with a shout. Just beneath them an excursion steamer was ploughing its way through the waves, bound citywards on its return trip. They could hear the music of the band aboard, until now drowned out by hoarse blare of the fog whistle. At the same moment a broad vivid flare of electric radiance shot across the sky from the deck of the steamer. It waved horizontally in some signal to the landing dock two miles further away. Then the operator of this glowing searchlight sent its gleams upwards in a slow way, as if for scenic effect for the passengers on board. "The mischief!" exclaimed Dave bending to levers and starting the Monarch II forward at best speed. Hiram sat staring. He blinked, half-blinded. The machine was irradiated in clear, sharp outlines as the great searchlight glare was focused, a speck of action in the sky. A chorus of cheers went up from the deck of the steamer as its passengers caught sight of the airship. Only for a moment, however, was the brilliant sky picture in view. Dave turned the head of the machine on a volplane sweep, and the searchlight operator could not locate it again. "Well, we've been seen," observed Hiram, "I'm sorry for it," replied Dave simply. "Look there!" cried Hiram abruptly. Dave had selected a course leading over the land, away from the water. As Hiram spoke, his own eye caught sight of some brilliant sparkles of light. It was a rocket, exploding in mid air directly in their course, and it was to this that Hiram Dobbs had directed the attention of the young aviator. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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