Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane Part 35

Ridgely left the room. He closed the door after him with an a.s.surance to Dave that things would be "all right." Just then there was the sound of some one hurrying into the next room, and an excited voice shouted out in an exultant tone:

"Say, father, we've got the other one, too!"

CHAPTER XXIII

HIRAM'S ADVENTURES

The young aviator at once recognized the voice in the adjoining room which spoke the excited, words:

"We've got the other one, too!"

It was Jerry Dawson who had spoken. Dave knew that the statement could refer to no other than his missing chum. Dave was in something of a flutter of suspense. Then his eye brightened and a cheery smile overspread his face, as he caught the words in a dearly familiar tone:

"Say, do you want to kill a fellow?"

It was Hiram who spoke, in a resentful and disgusted voice. Its accents were as pert and ringing as ever, and Dave was overjoyed to know that his loyal comrade was alive and apparently unhurt.

"Say, Dawson," here broke in Ridgely, "I want to speak to you."

"Put this fellow in with Dashaway," ordered Jerry, and then the door of Dave's prison place was pulled open. A familiar form came limping and stumbling across the threshold, and the door was slammed to and locked after him.

"Hiram!" cried Dave in genuine delight.

He drew back as his friend faced him. He had noticed that Hiram limped. Now he saw that one arm was in a sling. Besides that, Hiram's face was one ma.s.s of cuts and scratches. One eye was nearly closed.

"Oh, Hiram!" cried Dave aghast.

"Look is if I'd been through a thres.h.i.+ng machine, do I?" grinned the plucky lad.

"What happened?" asked Dave seriously.

"Dave," declared Hiram almost solemnly, "I honestly don't know. The machine drove upwards so quickly I wondered if some jar or the broken wire that was switching about didn't start the lever. By the time I got to the pilot's seat the machine was on a terrific whiz."

"What did you do?" asked Dave.

"Not much of anything, except to get rattled," confessed Hiram. "I tried to circle, and she went banking. Then the Machine took the prettiest drift you ever saw. All of a sudden one of the planes dropped and then we landed."

"Where?"

"On top of some trees. Right beyond was a deep basin, chuck full of undergrowth. The machine just took a slide off the tops of the trees, and slipped down to the bottom of the basin. Then she turned, I was thrown out."

"What then, Hiram?" pressed Dave in a concerned way.

"Well, Dave, we had briers and brambles on the farm, but nothing to compare with those Canadian thistles, or whatever they were. Look at my face."

"And your arm?"

Hiram shrugged his shoulders resignedly.

"The half breed who looked at it said it was broken. He seemed to be some kind of an Indian doctor. He rubbed my scratches and bruises with some leaves and set my arm in splints."

"Why, where did the half breed come in?" inquired Dave.

"Well, as soon as I got my wits from the tumble, I thought of you.

I tried to get up out of the basin, but the sides were so steep I couldn't make it. So I--well, Dave," added Hiram with a queer laugh, "I sort of busied myself about the airs.h.i.+p. It wasn't much battered up. I feared the Dawson crowd might come hunting for the machine, so--well, I sort of busied myself about the airs.h.i.+p,"

repeated Hiram, with a strange chuckle. "I was resting when that half breed and another fellow came along. The Indian is a great trailer, I guess, for he was sharp enough to notice the tree tops and the bushes the machine had rolled over. Anyhow, down he came on a rope into the basin and found me."

"And the Monarch II," said Dave.

"No, he didn't find the machine," declared Hiram.

"But--"

"Let me tell my story, Dave," interrupted Hiram. "He got me up aloft. Then he said I was badly hurt, and started in to mend me up.

Then they brought me here. They kept talking about the airs.h.i.+p, and tried to make me tell where it was. I wouldn't, and didn't."

"Wasn't it in the basin you spoke of?" inquired Dave wonderingly.

"Yes."

"Then why--?"

"Hus.h.!.+ We're going to have visitors."

This was true. There was a sound at the door of their prison room, and the padlock was displaced. Jerry Dawson stepped into view, his father behind him.

"Well," he said, with a leer meant to be clever, "I suppose you fellows know me?"

"We know you, Jerry," retorted Hiram, "only too well."

"I'm boss here," boasted Jerry.

"That's fine, isn't it?" said Hiram.

"And I've got you. We'll have your airs.h.i.+p soon, too. You'll do some walking getting back home, I'm thinking."

"What do you want of us, Jerry?" inquired Dave, coolly.

"I want to know where that airs.h.i.+p of yours is in the first place."

"Put it in the last place, Jerry," suggested Hiram, "for you won't find out from me."

"I'll bet I will," vaunted Jerry. "I have a good mind to punch you for making all the mischief you have."