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Dave Dashaway, Air Champion, or Wizard Work in the Clouds

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<h2 id='chap23'>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> <div class='nf-center-c0'> <div class='nf-center c004'> <div>A NOBLE DEED</div> </div></div> Whatever the “light” was that Hiram Dobbs saw, he did not share the illumination with Bruce. In fact the latter did not expect it, and asked no questions. So much had happened during the past two weeks that had tested the sense, courage and good judgment of the boys, that they had come to taking things conservatively, no matter what transpired. Bruce was aware that Hiram attached a great deal of importance to the discovery of the disguised Borden. The mention of the barograph had decidedly stirred Hiram. Why, or wherefore, the young pilot of the Scout did not just then say. Perhaps outside of a theory he had formed, Hiram could not clearly have told himself. At all events, Bruce was satisfied to wait for further developments at a time when his friend was ready to divulge them. The long distance flight was on for the next day. It was the big event of the meet, with a large number of entrants, and nothing else much was talked of that evening or the following morning. “Biplane and one passenger,” ran the schedule and Hiram was glad of that. “It’s a hundred and ten mile flight,” he remarked, “and the winner will come in under two hours.” “Not with that choppy northwest wind,” reminded Dave. “There is one thing, though: the Ariel is made for all kinds of weather. It really gives the others a handicap.” The contestants were fully advised as to the rules of the race. The course was laid along the shore of the lake and described a complete semi-circle seventy miles in length. The turning point was at Grand Bay. All along the course men were posted to watch out for any deviation exceeding two miles from the shore line of the lake. At Grand Bay it was a straight away course back to the International grounds. The Whirlwind came out with Valdec in the seat sneering and arrogant as usual. A youth about the age of Hiram occupied the cockpit. The machines were thus evenly matched. There were eighteen other entrants for the event. “There’re some pretty good machines in the race, Dave,” his assistant remarked as they awaited the starting signal. “I see that,” replied the pilot of the Ariel. “We mustn’t miss a point, or lose a yard, on turns or drifting. Is everything all right?” “As right as could be,” answered Hiram buoyantly. “What’s the programme, a rush?” “Not at the start. We won’t risk any mix up. Let the others, particularly the Whirlwind, catch a gait. Then we’ll strike the higher level and get a clear course, if we’re lucky enough to outdistance the others.” The start was very fine. It resembled the progress of a flock of birds trying their wings after a rest. Mr. Brackett looked greatly pleased as the Ariel did just what it had been built to do—rose lightly, made smooth upward progress and showed itself to be a very superior model of grace and efficiency. “Oh, dear! over two hours’ blind waiting,” sighed Bruce, as the aerial fleet spread out, and grew less distinct, so that, even with a field glass, it was difficult to distinguish one machine from another. “There’s a breakdown!” Hiram announced, just as they passed the first observation station on the lake shore. It was number six, a rather poor craft, and Dave could tell from its maneuvers that some of its gearing had gone wrong. At the end of fifty miles, Hiram, watching out in every direction, gave a quick cry of satisfaction. “I’ve counted them,” he told his chum. “The ragtag and bobtail fell out before we got forty miles. There’re two men even with us below, Dave. That one pegging away on the lower level is the Whirlwind.” “Yes, and doing very finely,” commented Dave. “There’re the smokestacks of Grand Bay ahead.” “Speed up, Dave,” urged Hiram, his usual excitable nature getting the best of him. The young aviator did not reply, but all his expert senses were on the alert. So far as he could judge, he had now but three rivals to fear. The Whirlwind was in the lead, but not for any great distance and would have to change its level when a turn was due. Dave had a point in view in first ascertaining the number of his real rivals, and then their possible capabilities in the return flight. The wind had steadily grown stronger with the hours. The lake was rough and muddy, and a cloud film had overspread the sky. To fly to the best advantage when the turn was made at Grand Bay, Dave saw that a system of tacking and circling would be necessary. The Ariel had been built purposely to meet these exigencies. He doubted if any of the three other machines could go through on any great rate of speed. “I am sure of one thing,” he reckoned quite confidently; “the Ariel can outdo the Whirlwind two to one in drifting with the wind at its stern.” “Dave! I say, Dave!” cried Hiram Dobbs breathlessly. “Here comes the Whirlwind!” “I see,” answered Dave calmly. “She’s turning, she’s first in rounding for the home run. Can’t you speed up?” Dave kept his eye on the machine he regarded as his principal rival. He watched its maneuvering narrowly. The Whirlwind had indeed turned, but now it was evident it had to contend with new and more difficult conditions. “It’s one thing to face the wind, and quite another to run away from it. Watch the control, Hiram,” directed Dave. “I’ve got both eyes in use,” reported his assistant. “Now then,” said Dave simply. “Careful!” He circled the point where a group of men were gathered, one with a white flag in his hand. This individual stood near a score board, and tallied off the machines as they passed. The Ariel made a sort of leap, as her pilot brought the machine broadside to the fierce breeze. In two minutes the young aviator comprehended, and analyzed, the conditions as would an expert running a yacht. “A fog is coming up, and it’s misting,” announced Hiram. “We’re not cutting due west, are we?” “Not on this occasion,” responded Dave coolly. “Hiram, we’ll make time and distance drifting south of the grounds. When we strike the land breeze it will be easier to fight our way back north.” “You know best, Dave,” said Hiram, and then for a full quarter of an hour nothing further was said. Dave did some fine maneuvering. Hiram followed the signals given him as to the rear control apparatus, a mission that relieved the pilot from a sort of double duty under the present stress. The muggy air prevented the young airman from making out what had become of the Whirlwind or their trailers. Dave had steadied quite successfully on a lateral course when Hiram leaned over towards him. “Dave,” he spoke quickly—“to the left, and a little ahead.” “I see—a craft of some kind on the lake.” “And a flag of distress—why, look! Dave, they’ve put off a raft, and it’s swamped.” The young pilot lessened the speed of the Ariel. He eased its progress through a sliding drift. This brought them nearer to the craft tossing on the waters below. “Water-logged and sinking!” exclaimed Hiram excitedly. “Dave, it’s a real peril! See, the ship has no wireless, and their lifeboat is gone. She can’t last long, Dave!” Dave had turned the head of the Ariel straight back landwards. In a flash his assistant understood. “Top speed for a rescue steamer, or the life-saving service,” announced Dave. His voice was slightly unsteady, for he realized the sacrifice he was about to make. “There’re women and children aboard that boat.” “Yes, we’ve got to lose the race!” cried Hiram in disappointed tones. “Better that than forget our humane duty,” responded the young pilot of the Ariel, but he said it with a sinking heart. The wind was now coming by fits and starts, and the sky looked anything but encouraging to the young airmen. “We’re in for a nasty blow, Dave,” came from Hiram, anxiously. “Looks that way.” “It’s bad for that schooner.” “So it is.” “Do you think we can get help in time?” “We’ve got to do it, Hiram. Think of those on board—maybe women and children as well as men!” and our hero shook his head sadly. “It’s quite a run.” “I know that as well as you do.” “And to miss winning that prize——” “Do you want to win and let those people drown?” “No, no, never!” “Then don’t say anything more about that prize.” “I won’t, Dave. Yes, run for shore, and get help as soon as possible.” “I’ll do it—and we’ll save those poor people. Hiram, there may be——” Dave did not have time to finish what he was going to say. A sudden gust of wind had struck the air craft, sending it whirling off its course. <div class='pbb'></div> <hr class='pb c000' /> <div> </div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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