Roy Rockwood - Dave Dashaway and His Giant Airship - or, A Marvellous Trip Across the Atlantic

Dave turned quickly. Two persons had passed the gates and were approaching him. He recognized them at once. One was the foppishly-dressed man he had seen twice before. The other was the boy who had shaken his fist at Dave when the Gossamer had started on the hasty trip to Easton.

At closer sight than before the young aviator instantly read his visitors as in a book. The elder of the twain was about twenty-five or thirty years of age, and all his elegant attire and rather handsome face did not disguise his resemblance to some shrewd sharper who made his way in the world by living on others.

The boy suggested the spoiled scion of some wealthy family, with plenty of money, and used to spending it foolishly. His face was flushed and excited, and Dave decided that he was under a very baneful influence in the company he kept. He was the first to speak.

“You are Dashaway, I suppose?” he observed in a careless, almost insolent way.

“Yes,” said Dave.

“Well, this is my friend, Vernon. Was here before, to-day.”

“I know he was,” replied Dave.

“Where is the old fellow who was so saucy to him?”

“What do you want to know for?” demanded Dave, unable to keep from getting a trifle angry.

“Because he’s due for a trimming, that’s why. I don’t allow my friends to be treated that way. See here, I don’t suppose you know who I am,” observed the speaker, with an air of self-assertion that was almost ridiculous.

“I don’t,” answered Dave.

“I thought so. That may enlighten you.”

The boy drew an elegant case from his pocket, selected a card with a tissue paper cover, and handed it to Dave, who took it, somewhat curious to know the personality of so presumptuous an individual. The card read: “ Elmer Brackett .”

The name Brackett was suggestive to Dave, but not altogether enlightening. There was a Mr. Brackett who was president of the Interstate Aero Company. Dave read the card over twice, closely and thoughtfully, then he looked his visitor squarely in the face.

“Well?” he demanded, coolly.

“My name is Brackett, as you probably observe,” remarked the boy, smartly.

“I see it is.”

“You don’t seem to understand yet,” proceeded the forward youth. “My father is the owner of the company that hires you.”

“Well?” again challenged Dave.

“You’ve heard of him, I reckon.”

“Many times,” replied Dave.

Young Brackett looked nettled. Apparently he had expected Dave to bow with reverence or quake with fear.

“See here,” he spoke suddenly in a harsh, rasping tone. “I’m Elmer Brackett, my governor owns that airship and everything around here. I’m his son, and I want to give my friend Vernon a spin in the air.”

“Well,” said Dave simply, “you can’t do it.”

“What’s that?” shouted young Brackett.

He made a spring forward as if he hoped to intimidate Dave. The young aviator did not budge an inch, and his adversary contented himself with simply glaring at him.

“You heard me,” said Dave, simply.

“Yes,” fired up the fellow named Vernon; “we heard you, and if I was in Brackett’s place you wouldn’t be heard much longer. Say, Elmer, why don’t you wire your father and get some kind of an accommodating crowd around here.”

“I’d soon show who was boss if I was near the old man,” grumbled young Brackett.

“I am boss here, if that is what you want to call it,” said Dave. “This is private property, I am in charge, and you are trespassers. Outside of your not coming at me in the right way, I want to say to you that the Gossamer is here for a specific purpose, and I have my orders and plans.”

“If my father was here, he’d soon order you to give us a spin in the Gossamer ,” declared Brackett.

“I know who your father is, and respect him greatly,” replied Dave, “but I would have to have his written order to do any work outside of routine.”

“Oh, is that so!” sneered Brackett. “You seem to make no bones about gallivanting about in the Gossamer as freely as you choose with your own particular lady friends.”

Dave made no reply. He did not consider that his visitors had the fineness of mind to understand the pathetic circumstances of his efforts in behalf of the Winston family.

Vernon gave his companion a wink and a nudge. He whispered some quick words to him that Dave did not catch. Young Brackett drew out a wallet stuffed full of money.

“See here, Dashaway,” he spoke, in a tone meant to be friendly and wheedling; “be a good fellow. There are some girls down at the hotel I promised to show the Gossamer to, and what she could do on the water. I’ll make it a twenty. Come, help us out.”

“I am sorry,” replied Dave, steadily.

“You won’t do it?”

“No.”

Again Vernon whispered to his companion. The latter nodded his head. Vernon shot a quick glance about the enclosure. Then, before Dave could surmise his purpose, the man made a spring at him.

The young aviator was athletic and strong, but he had to cope with a full grown man. Vernon had seized his arms from behind and Dave struggled in vain.

“Fetch those ropes over near the airship,” directed Vernon, with an unpleasant laugh. “I’ll show you how to do this thing.”

Young Brackett looked a trifle frightened.

“See here, Vernon,” he said, “I don’t know about this.”

“Well, I do,” retorted Vernon, securely twisting the rope about Dave’s arms and body. “You said you knew how to run the machine, didn’t you?”

“Why, I’ve been up in a biplane at the works several times,” said Brackett, rather hesitatingly.

“What are you afraid of, then? Just because it’s a bigger machine? Look here, give it a try.”

“What are you going to do with Dashaway?”

“Take him along.”

“What!”

“Certainly, so if we make any blunders he’ll have to take the helm to help himself out of the fix.”

“I want to warn you,” cried Dave. “You are trying a dangerous experiment.”

Vernon only laughed. Brackett put on a braggart air of over-confidence. The former lifted Dave into one of the seats and took his own behind the pilot post.

“All right,” announced Brackett, climbing into the forward seat. “I think I can manage the machine.”

Dave cast a hopeless look towards the gates of the enclosure. There was no sign of Grimshaw or Hiram. He watched the bungling of Brackett over the delicate mechanism, fearful as to the outcome of the resolution of the reckless fellow.

“Self-starter, eh?” he heard the presumptuous pilot say. “I know how to operate that. What’s this little mirror for? Oh, yes, to index the curves. Pshaw! I can’t go wrong if I watch that.”

“Can’t you? Oh, my!” muttered Dave.

Young Brackett was all right at the wheel. His brief biplane experience counted for enough to enable him to make a very pretty swoop aloft. He was so delighted at this that he chuckled:

“Say, I guess I’ll take a job at running the governor’s machine myself. Hey, what?”

“Good for you – doing finely,” commended Vernon. “Get over the lake, Brackett. If you can manage to sail the machine we’ll take the girls for a ride.”

Dave held his breath. Brackett had split half a circle abruptly, and the Gossamer got ready for a dive. By some accident the frightened pilot banked just in time to save a spill.

“Don’t change your course – don’t dare to!” fairly shouted the excited Dave, as he saw that any further attempt at a head change in novice hands meant sure destruction for the Gossamer .