“By hickory!” came the tones. “I don’t seem to be movin’ th’ ole shebang
much. Guess I’ll hev t’ go git another mule critter or two t’ snake it
away. Whoa there!”

“What in the name of sweet spirits of nitre is going on?” murmured Dave.
“Is some one trying to steal the _Albatross_?”

He crossed softly to look out of one of the windows, but could see
nothing. The big headlights had been extinguished, and, save for some
few incandescents here and there, which were only dimly glowing there
was no illumination inside the ship. It had been decided to make it dark
so all hands would sleep better.

“This is sure mysterious,” went on Dave. “I can’t see anything, but I
can hear, and I can—feel!” he added a moment later, for again the craft
moved slightly.

Once more the young aviator peered out, but he could discern nothing.
The night was very black.

“If I thought——” he began, when a sleepy voice from the adjoining berth
inquired:

“Whatsmatter, Dave? Time f’r brkfust?”

“Hiram! Hiram!” whispered Dave shrilly. “Wake up! Something has
happened—it’s happening now!”

Instantly Hiram sat upright in his bed. He was rather a slow chap, but
on occasions could move lively.

“What is it?” he inquired in a low voice. “Burglars in here, Dave?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t. Anyhow, I don’t think
they’re in yet.”

“All right, then; wait until they do get in an’ we’ll nab ’em. Lay low!”

“That’s just what I don’t want to do,” replied Dave. “Something may
happen unless we get busy. They may even get away with the _Albatross_.”

“Get away with the _Albatross_?” cried Hiram. “What are you talking
about, Dave? How can they——?”

But he did not finish his sentence. At that moment there came another
lurch to the craft, and it moved several feet.

“There!” hoarsely whispered Dave. “What did I tell you?”

“Are we going up—a night flight?” asked Hiram.

“I don’t know. I was awakened by the movement, and it’s been going on
ever since. Someone is outside, that’s sure. Listen now!”

There was silence for a moment, and then a cautious voice could be heard
saying:

“I suah will have t’ done go an’ git another mule critter t’ move this
contraption. An’ I ain’t got no mo’ of my own. I’ll have to borrow one
off Nate Jackson, an’ then he’ll want me t’ whack up with him. Wa’al,
there ain’t no help, fer as I kin see!”

“There!” exclaimed Dave in triumph.

“It sure is strange,” said Hiram. “I guess we’d better wake up the
others. Mr. King and Mr. Dale ought to know about this.”

But there was no need for the boys to awaken their companions. The next
moment there came such a violent motion to the ship that not a sleeper
continued to slumber. With one accord they tumbled out of their berths.

Then from without came a chorus of excited shouts.

“Whoa, there! Consarn ye all, what d’ ye mean by backin’ and fillin’
that a-way? Stand still, pesky mule critters that ye be! Ye wouldn’t
pull this shebang when I wanted ye to, an’ now ye’re tryin’ t’ run away
with it. Whoa!”

“Who’s there?” cried Mr. King.

“What is going on?” demanded Mr. Dale.

“Something has happened!” shouted Professor Leblance.

“That’s right!” agreed Dave, “and it’s going on now.”

“Someone is trying to make off with the airship,” added Hiram.

“Make off with the airship!” repeated the professor. “Can it be——”

He did not finish, but in a moment he had switched on a number of
lights, including the two big ones outside the craft. Then, as they
looked from the windows, they saw a strange sight.

An unkempt man, with a team of sorry-looking mules, had fastened a rope
to the _Albatross_ and was evidently trying to drag it away. He started
back in alarm at the sudden illumination, and hastily began taking off
the rope.

“Here! What are you trying to do?” cried Mr. King, through an open
window.

“Good land! Is there folks in this shebang!” asked the mountaineer.
“Land a’massy! I thought it was a balloon that had come down.”

“And you were going to haul it away and claim a reward, I suppose,” put
in the professor, beginning to understand the situation.

“That’s what I was, stranger” came the answer. “But my mules wa’n’t
strong enough. I was goin’ arter another pair when yo’-all turned up
your kerosene lamps. She wouldn’t hardly budge.”

“I should say not, with the way she is fastened,” said the Frenchman.
“But explain yourself, monsieur.”

“That ain’t my name, but it don’t much matter,” came the answer. “I was
on my way home from th’ settlement, with a load of stuff t’ keep my wife
an’ kids in bacon an’ flour, when I seen ye come down last evenin’. I
once went t’ a county fair, an’ they had a balloon assent. Th’ perfesser
offered five dollars t’ whoever’d git his balloon arter he jumped out of
it, an’ she drifted away.”

“Nate Jackson was th’ lucky man, an’ he found th’ balloon in Black Cedar
swamp. He hauled it t’ town an’ got his five. When I seen this
contraption come down, I just laid low, aimin’ t’ git th’ reward. I
s’posed you folks would all go home until mornin’ anyhow. But ye didn’t.
I onhitched my mules arter dark, an’ got a rope from my wagon, an’ tried
t’ haul th’ balloon away. But she wouldn’t haul. I’m mighty sorry if I
disturbed ye’ an’ I’ll travel on now. This is th’ most forsaken country
I ever knowed, an’ it’s hard t’ git money. I thought I saw an easy way
t’ make a five dollar bill.”

“It’s worth more than that to have our airship let alone, my man,” said
the professor. “This is the kind of a balloon you never saw before. Here
are ten dollars for the wife and little ones,” and he passed over a
bill.

The man was overwhelmingly grateful and apologized again for the trouble
he had caused. A hasty examination showed that he had not damaged the
craft any by his pulling and hauling, and a little later he had
disappeared in the darkness with his “mule critters,” and soon the
rumble of his wagon over the road, that was hardly more than a trail,
came fainter and fainter to the ears of the aviators.

“Well, that sure was a scare!” exclaimed Dave, when quiet was once more
restored.

“I should say yes!” agreed Hiram. “The idea of trying to cart off the
_Albatross_!”

“Well, his explanation was natural,” said the professor. “These
mountaineers, in this lonely region, scarcely ever see money, I guess.
But now, boys, get to bed. We’ve got lots to do to-morrow.”

Everyone again retired after the lights had again been turned low, and
Dave and Hiram were soon asleep again. It was two hours after daylight
when Grimshaw routed them out of their berths.

“Come, get up here,” he ordered; “if you don’t want to miss breakfast.”

“I certainly don’t,” announced the active Hiram. “I’m hungry as a bear.”

“Well, there’s a capital meal waiting for you,” observed the old
aeronaut.

The boys found this true as they came in at second table in the cabin.
They hurried through with the meal, for outside on the ground Mr. King
and the others were assembled. From their actions the young aviator
concluded that some active discussion was in progress.

Exit from the cabin was made through a trap door and a balancing ladder.

“Hurrah!” piped Hiram, as he reached the ground. “Here’s a chance to
stretch our legs and breathe some fresh air.”

“Let’s see what is going on with the others,” suggested Dave, and they
approached the group made up of Professor Leblance, Mr. King, Grimshaw
and Mr. Dale.

“We are evidently in some remote spot,” the Frenchman was saying. “All
the better that, for we shall have no troublesome visitors. My men can
attend to the balloonet and some other needful repairs while we send for
that quicksilver.”

“Which means the location of the nearest town?” submitted the airman.
“There was so much excitement last night I forgot to ask that old
mountaineer. But we must locate a store.”

“Exactly.”

“And that may be somewhat difficult.”

“Perhaps,” agreed the Frenchman, “but once down in the valley yonder it
is to be supposed there are some tokens of civilization.”

“Who is to go?” inquired Mr. Dale.

“I think you had better entrust the matter to me, Professor,” said the
aviator. “Here, let one of the boys—you, Dashaway—go with me.”

“I shall be glad,” said Dave, eagerly.

“Hold on,” broke in Hiram; “give me a show too; won’t you, Mr. King?”

The aviator took a brief look at the earnest, beseeching face of the
willing and accommodating young aeronaut, and smiled indulgently.

“Well, you two make a hardy, useful team, so make it so, if you like.”

Arrangements were made for the departure at once. It was understood that
the _Albatross_ would remain at its present landing place until the
exploring party returned with the quicksilver, even if they had to
consume considerable time in locating a town.

“I think we can make it and return by nightfall,” said the airman.
“Don’t worry, though, if we are longer away.”

“No,” spoke the professor. “We can’t leave till we get that quicksilver,
no matter how long it takes.”

A plentiful lunch, a compass, and a gun were gotten ready by the cabin
man. Then, waving a cheery adieu to their friends, the airman and the
boys started down the mountain side.

                              CHAPTER XIV

                                  LOST

“It’s no use, Dave.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve shouted ourselves hoarse, and in this still air and the way we
have kept up the hollering, anyone could hear us five miles away, it
seems to me.”

“Then there is only one conclusion to arrive at,” observed the young
aviator quite seriously.

“What’s that, Dave?”

“We are lost.”

“I reckon you’re right,” assented Hiram ruefully, dropping to the ground
and reclining on the grass.

His companion followed his example. It was six o’clock in the afternoon,
the sun was descending, and at the end of ten hours spent in persistent
search of a town or settlement, this had been the result of their hard
travel and laborious investigations.

The trio who had left the _Albatross_ had kept together until about
noon. Not a wagon track or even a footpath had they come across, much
less a human habitation. The landscape seemed as wild and untenanted as
if it were a primeval wilderness.

“I hardly know what to do,” said the old aviator, about the middle of
the afternoon, as they concluded a rest and a lunch.

“Yes, we may go on for miles and miles and not run across a human
being,” returned Hiram, who was tired out.

“I have half a mind to return to the _Albatross_ while we are pretty
sure to find our way,” remarked Mr. King; “and advise that we make an
air flight for civilized territory.”

“We might try as far as the other side of that big hill,” suggested
Dave, pointing to a lofty eminence in the distance.

“That may not be a bad idea,” replied Mr. King. “See here, we’ll make a
circuit. It can’t be over a few miles. I’ll trail the valley this way;
you boys take the other direction, and we’ll meet on the other side of
the hill.”

“That’s a good arrangement,” declared Hiram; and the divided journey was
begun.

It proved a very unwise experiment, the way things turned out. The
circuit was not so easy to follow as it had seemed. Pursuing a ravine
and its branches, at the end of three hours the boys found themselves
inextricably mixed up as to location or direction, with so many hills in
view that they could not tell which was the one they had had in view
when they separated from the aviator.

“Yes,” observed Hiram now, looking rather hopelessly about them; “we’re
lost, that’s sure.”

“Then the thing is to find ourselves,” said Dave, cheerily.

“Worst of all, Mr. King has got all the lunch,” mourned Hiram. “See
here, Dave, when are you going to make a start from here?”

“Why, when we get rested we’ll press right forward and get to a town or
back to the _Albatross_.”

“That’s easily said; but not done.”

“Well, we can try; can’t we?”

“I suppose so.”

Hiram was out of sorts. His gloom somewhat abated, however, and finally
walking on, they came across a big patch of wild raspberries. When, a
little later, Dave discovered a pecan tree, Hiram quite recovered his
spirits.

“I hardly hope to rejoin Mr. King,” said Dave. “I think I can keep the
general direction of the _Albatross_ in view. What I say is to brace up
and keep steadily ahead for a few hours, and see if we don’t come across
something encouraging. There’s a full moon, you know. Besides, at night
we could make out lights at a distance. You see, even if we fail, we can
surely get back to the airship.”

“Not if we lose our reckoning.”

“Yes, even then,” persisted Dave.

“How can we?”

“Why, I heard Professor Leblance tell Mr. King that if we did not return
by midnight, he would have the big searchlight on the _Albatross_ at
work.”

“That’s grand!” cried Hiram, bracing up magically. “We can see the
searchlight for a good many miles, you know.”

The wayfarers threaded several tortuous valleys. They reasoned that if
they could get out of the mountains they were sure to come upon some
little farm. It was near dusk when Hiram, who was a little in advance of
Dave, shouted suddenly:

“Here’s something!”

“What is it?” questioned our hero, hurrying up to where he stood.

His companion held up what looked like a broken tree branch, only the
bark had been peeled off from it, and one end had evidently been
fashioned into a handle with a pocket knife.

“Someone driving live stock has been here—lately, too,” declared Hiram,
inspecting the whip. “It broke, and he threw it away. Hold on. I was
long enough on a farm to trail a cattle track, if there’s one around
here. Yes, there is,” and the speaker’s tone rose in volume as he bent
over and, running along, inspected the ground keenly.

“Found it?” asked the young aviator, pressing close after his comrade.

“Yes. It’s plain enough, now. Come on, Dave; we’re in luck, sure.”

They could now make out a beaten track, and tell the irregularities in
the ground made by the trampling of many feet. The track finally ended
at the edge of a small stream.

“Here’s where they forded the brook,” explained Hiram. “We’ll take off
our shoes and stockings and wade over.”

This they did. The opposite bank gained, they saw through a fringe of
bushes what looked like a level field. They could hear occasional
bleatings.

“Oh, say, we’re all right now,” declared the sanguine Hiram.

They hurried on their shoes, eager to pursue their investigations.

“The sheep are over yonder,” said Hiram, pointing to a corner of the
field. “We’re surely near some farm now. I shouldn’t wonder if we found
some one guarding the sheep, too, for—hear that!”

It was the echo of distant yelping and barking to which Hiram called
attention.

“Wolves?” asked Dave, guessing quickly.

“That’s what; I know them. Saw lots of them when I was out West. Come
ahead. We’re going to find somebody right away, I’m sure.”

The boys now noticed a little knoll. The bleating sounds seemed to echo
from behind it. As they started up the incline, Hiram grabbed his
companion in some affright and dismay, and both fell back startled.

A sudden flash split the air. It started a sweep in a perfect circle,
like a revolving searchlight. Its bright rays sent out a glare a hundred
yards from its base. Then, the circle complete, as suddenly it died out.

“Now what do you think of that?” gasped the bewildered Hiram. “Worse,
and more of it!”

Bang!

From the same spot, just as abruptly, some gun or cannon belched out a
sheet of flame, followed by a report that awoke the echoes for miles in
every direction.

Facing a mystery they could not explain, the two young aviators stood
staring mutely towards the spot from which flash and report had so
unaccountably come.

                               CHAPTER XV

                       “THE TERRIBLE MACGUFFINS”

“Now what do you think of that?” challenged Hiram, after a long spell of
wondering silence.

“I don’t think it was intended for us,” responded the young aviator.

“Why not?”

“Because that revolving light, or whatever it is, flashed in every
direction, and that firearm wasn’t aimed towards us.”

“That’s so,” agreed Hiram. “But what was it done for at all?”

“We had better try and find out,” suggested the young aviator.

The boys waited for some little time, expecting a renewal of the strange
manifestations, but it did not come. Then Dave led the way, creeping up
the incline. As they reached the top of the knoll, they paused and
looked about them. Sheltered in a kind of a dip of the ground, they
could make out half a hundred sheep huddled together. No human being was
visible.

“There’s the contrivance that flashed and fired,” announced Hiram,
pointing to a small raised platform at the edge of the knoll.

“I guess it is,” assented the young aviator; “go slow, Hiram. No need to
run any risks.”

Neither could refrain from satisfying his curiosity as to the purpose of
the device near to them. As they neared it, proceeding cautiously, the
bright rays of the moon, just rising, showed clear outlines of the
platform and the object upon it.

“Hark—listen!” ordered Dave, suddenly.

As they waited a sharp tick—tick, regular and prolonged, struck their
hearing.

“It’s a clock,” declared Hiram. “Look there—seven or eight gun barrels.
And wires running to that box. There’s clock works in it. See, the light
is still burning, but shut in with a cover.”

“That’s so,” nodded Dave, surprised and still puzzled.

“Oh, say!” cried Hiram, suddenly, “I’ve guessed out the whole scheme.”

“Have you?”

“I think so.”

“What is it?” asked the young aviator.

“Why, this is a contrivance for scaring away wolves. It’s mighty cute,
and it must be a smart fellow who got it up. Don’t you see, probably
every hour the light flashes and one of those firearms goes off. That
would scare wolves good and right.”

“I believe you have solved the problem,” said Dave.

He was certain of it as they made a closer inspection of the queer
contrivance. Some backwood genius had spent time and some money in
rigging up a wolf-scarer that kept up an alarm and illumination through
the night, serving as a protection for the sheepfold.

“Of course there’s a house somewhere near,” said Hiram, as they started
from the spot.

“Yes, look there—a light!” cried Dave.

What looked like a candle or lamp in a window showed at a little
distance. The young adventurers hurried along with a good deal of
satisfaction.

They finally reached a roomy log cabin with a barn behind it. As they
passed around the house they were unable to discover anybody about the
premises. They knocked and then hammered at the front door. There was no
response, and Hiram shouted, but no one appeared. Walking around the
house, they could see through the uncurtained windows into every room.

“There’s no one in the house, it seems,” said the young aviator.

“Probably gone to some neighbor’s,” suggested Hiram.

“What is that?” suddenly exclaimed Dave.

Towards the southeast a growing glare showed in the sky. It increased in
brightness each moment.

“It’s a fire!” declared Dave.

“I think so, too. Let’s run for it,” spoke Hiram.

They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile when shots and then shouts
rang out on the still night air.

“Someone is running this way,” said Dave.

Against the radiance of the mingled fire glow and the moonlight the boys
saw a woman hurriedly crossing a clear space beyond the trees. She held
a baby in her arms. A little girl she clasped by the hand. The baby was
crying, and the woman, with many a fearful glance back of her, was
sobbing audibly.

She came directly towards the boys. Dave stepped forward in her path.
The woman drew back with a shriek of alarm.

“Don’t be frightened,” said Dave.

“You do not belong to the raiders?” the woman faltered, all in a
tremble.

“What raiders?” asked Hiram.

“The MacGuffins—the terrible MacGuffins!” almost wailed the woman.

“Who are they?”

“Don’t you know?” asked the woman, incredulously.

“We are strangers here, madam,” explained the young airman. “What is the
fire and what is the trouble?”

“All our men are away—hiding from the officers down at Brambly Fork,”
said the woman. “The MacGuffins have made a raid and are burning us all
out! They may kill us if they catch us. Oh, sirs, help me get our little
ones in hiding,” she pleaded.

“To your home, do you mean?” inquired Dave.

“Oh, no, no,” dissented the woman instantly. “That is the worst place in
the world to go to just now. They will burn our house next.”

“They may not harm you,” suggested Dave.

“Yes, they will. My husband is the man they hate the most. It’s an old
quarrel between the MacGuffins and our people. They will harm you, too,
if they catch you.”

“Why should they?” asked Hiram.

“Because no stranger is ever allowed in these Carolina mountains. They
are all moonshiners, and will take you for detectives. They shot two
suspicious characters only a few days ago.”

“H’m,” remarked Hiram under his breath. “We’re in a nice country!”

The young aviator comprehended the situation at once. He had read and
heard of these North Carolina outlaws and their family feuds, sometimes
running through half a dozen generations.

“How can we help you?” he said to the woman.

“It isn’t safe for us anywhere around here,” she declared. “I must get
to my husband.”

“At Brambly Fork, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s where he is, and his crowd.”

“Is it far from here?”

“About fifteen miles. He ought to know about the MacGuffins, so as to
drive them away before they steal our cattle and crops. I can manage to
get along with the baby, but the little girl is ready to drop down from
tiredness. See, oh, hide! hide! They are coming this way!”

Among the trees beyond the clearing the boys could see men with torches
and armed with rifles coming in their direction.

“They are going to fire our house next!” cried the woman, bursting into
tears.

“I am afraid it would be foolish for us to try and prevent them,”
remarked Dave. “They are armed and in a dangerous mood.”

“You would simply risk your lives.”

The young aviator snatched up the little girl in his arms.

“Help the lady, Hiram,” he directed, “and follow me.”

Dave led the way to a thick copse. The woman told the little girl to
keep perfectly quiet. In a few minutes the men they had seen passed by
without discovering them.

“I must get to my husband at once,” said the woman, eagerly, as soon as
the horde of raiders was out of sight and hearing.

“You can’t go alone,” observed Dave. “Here, we will go with you. Take
turns at carrying the little girl, Hiram.”

The woman sobbed out her heartfelt gratitude. Then Dave questioned her
as to the direction of Brambly Fork, and all were soon on the way.

“This isn’t looking for Mr. King, Dave,” suggested Hiram, after awhile.

“Mr. King will take care of himself, Hiram,” replied the young aviator.

“Yes, but neither is this looking for a town where we might get that
quicksilver.”

“It’s on the way to it, isn’t it? When we get to the place where this
woman’s husband is, some of the crowd can direct us to the nearest
settlement, that is sure.”

It was pretty hard traveling, after a day of heavy tramping. The forlorn
condition of the woman, however, appealed to both the boys.

“We are very near Brambly Fork now,” spoke the woman at the end of four
hours, during which time they had rested frequently. “Another turn in
the valley and we will be there.”

“Sure enough!” cried Hiram with animation.

They had come upon a spot well shut in on three sides with trees. A big
campfire was burning, and near it were gathered a dozen or more men.
Their interest was centered on a man who stood with his arms bound
behind him.

“Why,” cried Dave, “it’s Mr. King!”

                              CHAPTER XVI

                           IN FRIENDLY HANDS

The young aviator did not delay for a single instant. So precipitately
did he start for the group about the tree, that he fairly knocked Hiram
off his footing.

“The mischief!” gasped the latter, righting himself and staring aghast
at the scene a little distance ahead of them.

“Stop! stop!” shouted Dave at the top of his voice, as he dashed across
the open stretch, and momentarily came nearer and nearer to the men who
surrounded the airmen.

Dave had a right to be urgent, for two men had seized hold of Mr. King
as if to handle him roughly.

Three rifles were aimed at Dave as he fearlessly ran up to the group.
One of the party, evidently the leader, stared at our hero as he came to
a halt, with a suspicious and threatening scowl.

“Hello,” he challenged, “another one? Why, strangers are getting thick
as bees in swarming time.”

“It’s another detective,” growled a man by his side.

Dave faced the fierce-visaged, reckless-mannered mob, all alive with
anxiety and excitement.

“You must not harm that man,” he declared, dauntlessly.

“Know him, do you?” inquired the leader, with a sinister look.

“I should say I did. There’s some mistake.”

“Who is he?”

“He is Mr. Robert King, the great aviator.”

“H’m that’s what he said, but we don’t believe him,” retorted the
leader. “Look at that badge on him.”

“Why, that is a trophy from an aero club,” explained Dave. “Read what it
says, and you’ll see that I am telling the truth.”

“Say, sonny,” observed the man, with a derisive laugh, “there ain’t any
schoolhouses in this district, and none of us know how to read. Now
then, who are you, and where did you come from?”

“I am in the same line as Mr. King,” replied Dave; “and I came from the
spot where our airship landed.”

“How did you find us?”

“Oh, yes,” said Dave, quickly. “I ran across the MacGuffins. They were
making a raid, and——”

If the young aviator had thrown a firebrand among the group he could not
have caused more excitement. At the mention of that dread name, “the
MacGuffins,” it seemed as though the men before him uttered a fearful
roar of hatred and rage. The leader sprang forward and grasped Dave’s
arm.

“Don’t you fool me!” he shouted. “Where did you run across the
MacGuffins?”

“About fifteen miles north of here. They were burning houses, and——”

Dave was interrupted by a cry. It proceeded from the woman he and Hiram
had helped. She appeared now upon the scene carrying her babe, and Hiram
following with the little girl in his arms.

“Jared!” cried the woman, and then Dave knew that the leader of the
outlaw band was her husband. The man stared at her in bewilderment.

“Nance,” he spoke in a husky voice, “what does it mean, you being here?”

“Oh, Jared, the MacGuffins!” she wailed. “They have burned us out! If it
wasn’t for these two brave boys, we might all have been killed! They hid
us and helped me get here with the children.”

“You did this?” spoke the man in a choked-up tone, turning to the young
aviator. “And that fellow is your friend?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Set him free,” ordered the man with a wave of his hand towards Mr.
King. “As to you, young man, you’ve made some friends, let me tell you.”

Dave and Hiram hurried eagerly to the spot where two of the band began
immediately to liberate Mr. King, who had looked worn and worried. A
glad smile of relief now covered his face.

“You came just in the nick of time,” he told his two young friends.

“It looks so,” said Hiram, seriously.

“There’s a bad nest of them,” cautioned the airman. “I never met such
stubborn, unreasonable beings. They seem to have two objects in life—to
fight each other and dodge revenue officers.”

“Regular outlaws, aren’t they?” queried Hiram.

“Yes, and with little idea of the value of human life.”

The band grouped together about the woman, who was reciting the
incidents of the raid of the MacGuffins. Wild shouts and threats
followed her story. The party split up, and half of them ran to a
thicket, to reappear with horses.

At a word from the leader they set off in the direction the refugees had
just come from. Then the man approached the airman and his companions.

“We’re rough fellows, maybe,” he said, “but we stick like glue to a
friend. You two young fellows saved my Nance and the babies. There isn’t
much we fellows wouldn’t do for you in return.”

“Well, you can probably help us out a good deal if you want to,” replied
Dave promptly.

“Just name how, son.”

“Mr. King has told you how we are balloonists. We need some quicksilver,
and the three of us had started out to locate some town where we could
get the article.”

“Quicksilver, eh?” repeated the outlaw, as though dubious and puzzled.
“Where would you be likely to get it now?”

“Most hardware or drug stores keep it,” explained Dave.

“Nothing else you need?”

“No, only to return to our balloon when we get the quicksilver.”

“Hi!” shouted the man, beckoning to two of his men. “Mount and make a
quick run for Forestville. How much quicksilver do you want?”

“It comes in iron tubes,” explained the airman. “One will answer. If
they keep it in some other form, about thirty ounces.”

“Get back soon as you can,” the outlaw ordered his messengers. “If the
places are shut, shoot up the town and get some action on the case.”

The speaker turned and proceeded to where a tent stood. In a little
while he reappeared to say to his guests that they must be hungry and to
follow him.

Seated on rude home-made camp stools, the three friends enjoyed a meal
of corn pone, sweet potatoes and wild turkey, all cooked to a turn. Then
their host threw some blankets on the ground outside. He invited them to
be seated, and for over an hour asked question after question regarding
their wonderful airship and the great world beyond the wilderness of
which he knew so little.

“We’re perfectly safe to sleep here,” remarked Mr. King, as the man left
them finally.

“More than safe,” declared Dave. “These people would protect us with
their lives, the way they feel about us.”

The wayfarers were pretty well tired out. All three were soon asleep. It
must have been two hours later when Dave felt himself roughly shaken.
The outlaw leader and two others were standing near, staring up into the
sky in an awed, puzzled way.

“What’s that?” asked the outlaw leader of the young aviator. “It’s
strange to us, and I thought you’d know.”

Across the sky in the direction of the airship a broad sweeping pencil
of light swept the heavens from zenith to horizon, and back again.

“Ah, that?” said Dave; “it’s the great searchlight of the _Albatross_.”

                              CHAPTER XVII

                             A TRUSTY GUIDE

The young aviator had to do some explaining for the benefit of the
outlaw leader before the latter could understand what a searchlight was.

“Reckon there’s no spot safe for a free and easy fellow with all these
new-fangled contrivances,” remarked the man.

“I’d like to see that balloon, all the same,” observed one of his band.

“We’d better keep close to the safety line,” advised the leader.
“There’s a good deal of hubbub around, and we’d better watch out for the
MacGuffins.”

It was an hour later when the two men sent to Forestville came galloping
back into camp. They were hot, tired and dusty. Their steeds were
reeking, and dropped their heads in an exhausted way as their riders
drove up to the campfire and dismounted.

“Did you get the stuff?” inquired the leader.

“That’s what you sent us for, wasn’t it?” queried one of the horsemen.
“Well, there it is,” and he handed out a package.

“We had some trouble making the drug clerk understand how badly and
quickly we needed it,” remarked the other horseman, with a chuckle.
“When we told him that Forestville would be off the map in a few days if
he didn’t act lively, he produced results double quick.”

Mr. King examined the package. It contained two large glass tubes filled
with quicksilver. He thanked the men heartily. His hand went to his
pocket and his purse was half withdrawn to offer a reward, when he noted
a warning flash in the eyes of the leader.

“Don’t try to pay for what money wouldn’t get you if you weren’t
friends,” said the man, tersely.

“We are anxious to get back to the airship,” suggested the airman.

“Want to start right away?”

“Yes, if possible.”

“That searchlight signal will guide you?”

“Oh, surely. Besides, I think we could find our way without its aid.”

“Maybe. Just the same, I’ll go with you as far as the gap. That’s hard
to cross unless you know it pretty well, or hit a trail by accident, as
you seem to have done in getting here. Hi, there, saddle up four fresh
horses,” ordered the speaker to one of his men.

“This is pretty fine treatment,” declared the young aviator, as his
friends and himself found themselves in the saddle and the outlaw leader
piloting the way from the camp.

“It will take my wife a long time to forget all we owe you,” the leader
remarked more than once.

At the end of two hours’ travel, the latter stages of which were taken
through dark and sinuous windings along a densely-verdured ravine, their
pilot ascended a long slope.

“There’s your searchlight still going,” he said, pointing to the broad
waving flare in the sky. “I dare not go any farther with you for two
reasons,” he explained. “In the first place I’m over what we call the
safety line. In the next place I want to get back in time to start a
daylight hunt after those MacGuffins.”

“I feel sure we can find our way to the _Albatross_ now,” said the young
aviator.

“Say, that was a queer adventure, wasn’t it now?” spoke Hiram, as their
recent guide waved his hand in a friendly way and disappeared like a
flash back the route they had come.

“These rough fellows are true blue when you touch the right spot,”
declared the airman. “We seem to be on higher level ground than before.
Let us get along as fast as we can, so we can send the horses back.”

The outlaw leader had insisted that they retain the steeds. He had
instructed them to simply head them back homewards when they were
through with them.

“Don’t fret,” he had said, confidently, “they’ll be sure to find the
camp feeding trough before breakfast time.”

“This has been quite an adventure, as you say, Hiram,” remarked Mr.
King, as they trotted single file on account of the narrow course.

“With probably a lot more of it waiting us along the line,” added Dave.

“Yes,” assented Hiram, “I can guess it will be pretty lively if we cross
the Atlantic. Say, we’re getting near to the _Albatross_.”

This was apparent from the clearer radiance from the searchlight glow.
They rode on about two miles further.

“We can do the rest on foot, I fancy,” said Mr. King.

The party dismounted, arranged the bridles so they would not trail,
turned the heads of the horses homewards for them, and, giving each a
slap on the flanks, watched them dart away, rapidly.

The searchlight faded out before they had proceeded a mile. In fact, day
was breaking. The sun came up as they reached the bottom of a high hill.

“I remember this spot,” said the young aviator.

“Yes, we left the camp this way,” agreed Mr. King, casting a look about
and recognizing some landmarks.

“I suppose Professor Leblance has been mighty anxious about us,” said
Hiram. “I’ll have a great story to tell Mr. Grimshaw.”

Despite the arduous rigors of their all-day tramp and all-night
adventures, Dave and Hiram felt fresh and ambitious.

“We’re pretty near the top,” spoke the young aviator. “I’ll race you to
see who arrives first.”

“All right,” agreed Hiram. “Here we go.”

Dave showed the most endurance. He reached the summit, paused and waved
his hand triumphantly at his toiling rival.

“Hold on,” called Hiram. “Wait for Mr. King.”

“I’ll take a look first,” answered Dave.

The young aviator climbed over a low ledge of boulders. Beyond them was
a fringe of high bushes. Dave knew that, these passed, the _Albatross_
would be in view.

He pressed his way through the bushes and cleared the last obstruction
at a leap. Then the young aviator took one look, uttered a dismayed cry,
and fairly dived back in among the undergrowth, startled beyond
expression.

                             CHAPTER XVIII

                              IN A BAD FIX

“Keep back!” shouted the young aviator.

He accompanied the words with a spring and a roll that took him through
and past the fringe of bushes and brought him directly against Hiram.

“Hold on, I say. The mischief!” blurted out Hiram, tipped clear off his
balance.

“Hush!” warned Dave, regaining his feet. “Don’t go ahead, don’t make any
disturbance. Stop Mr. King.”

Dave spoke the words in a hurried and urgent tone. Then, cautiously, he
crept on all fours through the shrubbery. He took a second more
comprehensive look over the plateau. Then he worked his way back to the
bewildered Hiram.

“See here, Dave Dashaway,” challenged the latter, “you’re acting mighty
strange.”

“What’s the trouble here?” inquired Mr. King, coming up to the boys,
pursuant to mysterious gestures from Hiram.

“It is trouble, I am very much afraid,” replied Dave, seriously.

“What do you mean—about the airship?”

“Yes, Mr. King. The _Albatross_ seems to be all right, but about twenty
men, all armed with guns, have our entire party cornered near some
rocks.”

“You don’t say so!” cried the airman. “Let me have a look.”

“Be careful, then,” advised Dave. “It looks to me as if another band of
these wild outlaws probably traced the searchlight, and have managed to
catch our friends away from the airship. Anyway, our folks are helpless,
and the strangers look fierce and dangerous.”

All three of the adventurers crept through the fringe of underbrush and
took a look across the plateau. They found the situation as Dave had
described it to be. The strangers held Professor Leblance, Mr. Dale,
Grimshaw and the others at bay. A big, rough-looking fellow, evidently
the leader of the band, was talking animatedly to the Frenchman. The
others of the intruders held their rifles in a way that threatened an
attack if the captives showed any resistance.

“They may be the MacGuffins,” whispered Hiram, intensely wrought up with
excitement.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Dave. “Mr. King, let us try to get nearer to
them.”

“Yes, we may learn what is going on and give our friends some help, if
they need it,” replied the airman.

They had to cover half a mile in a cautious detour. This finally brought
them to a thicket not thirty feet distant from their friends and
enemies. Mr. King lay flat on the ground behind some high bushes, and
his companions followed his example. Dave bent his ear keenly, to catch
what the leader of the invading party was saying.

“That don’t go with me,” the man said. “How do we know that you ain’t
here to spy on us? We fine trespassers here and we charge rent for the
use of our property.”

“You must own the whole state, you fellows must,” snapped out Grimshaw.

“We run this district, if you want to know it,” retorted the outlaw.
“Usually we just string up spies.”

“But we are no spies,” declared the professor, earnestly.

“We don’t take your word for that. Come, you’ve got to pay your
reckoning. You scrape us up as much as two hundred dollars among you,
or——”

The speaker waved his hand significantly in the direction of the
_Albatross_.

“Yes,” growled one of his fellows. “It wouldn’t take us long to make a
sieve of that contrivance.”

“I resent this outrage!” cried the Frenchman, hotly. “We are under
international protection. Our mission is in the interests of science. If
you interfere with us, you will rouse the entire community. It will be
the worse for you.”

“Hear him, boys,” rallied the outlaw leader. “Say, stranger, who’s going
to tell what we did or didn’t do to you, hey?”

The speaker grinned in a cold-blooded way that made Hiram Dobbs shiver.

“Say, Mr. King,” he whispered hoarsely, “shoot them.”

“One gun against twenty wouldn’t count for much,” responded the airman,
with a shake of his head.

“I will pay no ransom, I will give you not one cent of blackmail,”
declared the doughty Frenchman, thoroughly indignant.

“All right, then we will ransack your old gas bag and take what we
want,” boasted the outlaw.

“I warn you,” cried the professor. “The airship is one mass of devices
you do not understand. You may find trouble.”

“What do you bother with him for?” cried the man beside the last
speaker. “We’ll cover the rest of the crowd. You make him take you over
the machine and get what’s lying around loose.”

“Can’t we do something, Mr. King?” inquired the young aviator, in an
anxious tone.

“I fear not, Dashaway,” was the reply. “These are desperate men and
bound to have their own way. We can only hope that our being free will
help our friends somewhere along the line.”

“You come with me,” ordered the outlaw leader, roughly seizing Professor
Leblance by the arm and pulling him along. “Keep your eyes on those
others,” he added, to his men.

The Frenchman held back with resolute face and force. The outlaw,
however, was a great, bulky fellow of enormous strength.

They had proceeded less than twenty feet towards the airship, when a
quick word cut the air, clear and startling as a pistol shot.

“Halt!”

                              CHAPTER XIX

                          A MYSTERIOUS FRIEND

In an instant of time the whole complexion of affairs had changed. The
young aviator and his two companions crouched, staring at the scene
before them, which now seemed the stage setting to some intense drama.

“Hello!” gasped the excitable Hiram.

“What does that mean?” echoed Mr. King, in a truly astonished way.

Dave was quite as fully amazed and puzzled. Suddenly and unexpectedly a
form had sprung into view just beyond one of the floats of the
_Albatross_. It was that of a lithe person, young and energetic. To all
appearance he was a negro, for hands and face at that distance were of
seeming ebony hue.

This extraordinary person, a stranger to all who looked upon him, held
leveled a short but heavy rifle. At once the watchers from the
underbrush recognized it as one of several weapons provided for the
arsenal of the giant airship before the _Albatross_ had left Croydon.

“It’s the magazine rifle Mr. Dale showed us!” exclaimed Hiram. “Who’s
the fellow holding it, and how did he get it?”

“Who is he, indeed?” murmured the airman, staring hard at the person who
had so startlingly pronounced that mandatory word—“Halt!”

The outlaw leader had come to a dead stop. He dropped the arm of the
professor, who took in this last strange incident of the moment in a
very bewildered way.

“Stand still or I will fire,” rang out now in clear, vibrant tones.

Those of the band guarding the rest of the crew of the _Albatross_ stood
mute and staring, taken aback by the determined and threatening attitude
of the person near the balloon.

“If one of your men so much as raises a weapon, I will shoot,” came
floating distinctly on the still mountain air. “I hold a magazine rifle
in my hand loaded for one hundred rounds, that will shoot eighty times
in a minute. Order your men to put down their guns.”

The outlaw leader hesitated. Bang! ten times in incredibly rapid
succession at a light pressure the formidable magazine rifle rang out,
aimed, however, at the boughs of a nearby tree, some of the leaves of
which fell in scraps and ribbands under the destructive effect of the
powerful fusillade.

“One, two, three—I can pick them off before they can raise a trigger!”
shouted the sable champion of the airship crew. “I’ll do it, too, if
that order is not given double-quick.”

The outlaw leader quailed. Then he turned and made a sign to his men.
The last one of them placed his gun on the ground.

“March,” came the inflexible order. “Down that path to the left, so we
can keep you in view. You will find your weapons safe when you return
and we are gone. Go!”

The menace of the powerful magazine rifle cowed the outlaw gang. The
breathless spectators from the brush saw them join their leader unarmed,
take the path as directed, and file away from the plateau.

The person who had so marvellously accomplished all this never lowered
his weapon. Still holding it ready for instant use, he walked over to
where a ledge of rocks rose like a sentinel tower above the level of the
plateau. There posting himself, he held the discomfited retreating foe
in constant sight. He swung his hand towards the stupefied crew of the
airship. He spoke some order or suggestion to them that Dave did not
overhear. The party, however, at once possessed themselves of some of
the abandoned rifles of the outlaws and stood ready for attack and
defence.

Mr. King arose and hurried over to where Professor Leblance stood, and
Dave and Hiram followed him.

“Professor!” cried the airman. “Here are some strange happenings. Who is
that person—not one of the crew?”

“I never saw him before,” replied the dazed Frenchman. “He has saved
us.”

“And the _Albatross_. We have the quicksilver. This is a dangerous
ruffian-infested district. Let us leave as soon as possible.”

“Yes, yes,” said the Frenchman, in a hurried tone. “After what has
happened we cannot be too quickly nor fast on our way.”

The animated engineer of the _Albatross_ bustled about into immediate
action. He ordered two of his men to join their rescuer on the rocks.
All the others were impressed into service in assisting to get the giant
airship ready for a new and longer flight.

It did not take fifteen minutes to accomplish this. One by one Professor
Leblance told off his expert assistants to their duties. Dave and Hiram
had been kept busy, but more than once the young aviator had glanced in
the direction of the heroic figure on the rocks.

He saw the Frenchman say some quick words to Mr. King, and the latter
then approach the stranger. Some conversation took place between them.
As a signal for starting was sounded from the engine room, Mr. King
turned towards the airship. He was accompanied by the person with the
magazine rifle.

All hands got quickly aboard. When the young aviator reached the cabin
he found their mysterious friend seated in a shaded corner of the place.
Then the activity and excitement of the ascent engrossed all minds.

The magnificent _Albatross_ arose in the air like a bird. It attained a
high altitude. All the recent troubles of its crew faded away like light
feather down.

Mr. King came into the cabin inside of half an hour, quickly followed by
Professor Leblance. Both looked intensely curious. The _Albatross_
safely started on a steady course, they had evidently hastened to
explore the mystery of the strange friend who had aided them in their
sorest need.

The airman approached the silent, timid-appearing figure in the corner
of the cabin. He extended his hand warmly, grasping that of the
shrinking stranger.

“My friend,” he said, “come up to the table. We want to have a talk with
you. You asked to be taken aboard, and said you would then explain your
being here.”

The stranger somewhat reluctantly took a chair at the cabin table. For
all his recent heroic attitude, he acted rather embarrassed and
frightened now.

He looked down. Then he trembled visibly. And then he made the
remarkable statement:

“I am a stowaway.”

                               CHAPTER XX

                              THE STOWAWAY

The young aviator took a long, earnest stare at the mysterious person
who had just stated that he was a stowaway. In a flash Dave seemed to
get hold of one end of a long chain of circumstances and mysteries.

“A stowaway?” repeated Professor Leblance, incredulously. “You mean
aboard the _Albatross_?”

“Yes, sir.”

“From the time when she first started?”

“And before.”

“You amaze me!”

“I am amazed at myself,” came the words, in rather a depressed way. The
speaker dropped his head, and both of his interlocutors looked troubled
and more puzzled than ever. “I’ll tell you, gentlemen, I’d rather not
say much till I am sure your airship is out of the country. You know you
promised I should stay aboard if I wanted to,” he added to Mr. King.

“I surely did,” assented the airman, heartily.

Dave had been studying the profile of the stowaway. He had noticed that
his ebony hue was due entirely to soot or greased lampblack smeared over
face and hands. Further, the keen glance of the young aviator had
scanned closely the clothing, even down to the necktie of the stranger,
and then—he was a stranger no longer to Dave.

“Mr. King, may I speak to you for a moment,” said Dave, moving out of
the cabin into a passageway. In some surprise the airman followed him
there.

“What is it, Dashaway?” he asked.

“The stowaway. I know him, Mr. King,” declared Dave, hurriedly. “There
is a certain mystery about him he dares not explain just now, and you
are embarrassing him dreadfully. Don’t ask him any more questions. Tell
him to come to my stateroom. Later, I will explain everything to you
about him.”

“Well, well,” commented the airman; “you seem to have the faculty for
preparing surprises for your friends, I must say. I’ll do what you
suggest, but I’m curious to understand what it all means.”

“You shall soon know,” promised the young aviator, and he went to the
little partitioned-off space where he and Hiram slept. He sat down on
one of the berths, placing a stool in the middle of the room for his
expected guest.

“You will find a friend in there,” reached Dave’s ear, a little later,
in the tones of the airman.

“Did—did you want to speak to me?” rather falteringly asked the
stowaway, entering the stateroom. Mr. King retired and closed the door
after him.

“Why, yes,” replied Dave pleasantly. “Say,” and he grasped the hand of
his guest in a hearty way, “I am glad to see you, and doubly glad
because you have made good, just as I knew you would. I once told a
friend you were of the right kind. You’ve proved it, Elmer Brackett, and
I’m proud of you.”

“Yes, I see you know me. Made good! Proud of me?” repeated the boy in a
dazed, half-stunned way.

“Why, you saved the _Albatross_, didn’t you?” cried the young aviator,
in a spirited tone, bound to rouse and buoy up his guest. “The lives,
too, probably, of every person aboard. What are you crying for—joy?”

Sure enough, young Brackett was crying. He acted like a boy in such a
tangle of circumstances that he was fairly crushed. Finally he blurted
out:

“Joy? None of that for me, ever again, I guess.”

“Why not?” challenged Dave.

“Oh, you don’t know, you don’t know!” cried the young man. “It seems as
I sit here, in the strangest position a fellow ever was in, I reckon,
that I’m in some terrific dream. There’s only one clear idea I can cling
to—to get out of the country, away—away——”

“Away from that villain, Vernon? Am I right?” spoke Dave, quickly.

“Yes, that’s it,” assented Brackett, in a lost tone of voice.

“I thought so. Now then, see here, you are among the best friends any
fellow ever had. You have just been the best kind of a hero ever was.
Forget everything else for the present. Make up your mind that whatever
your troubles may be, there’s a combination aboard the _Albatross_
strong enough to help you fight your way clear out of the last one of
them, and—tell me all about it.”

There followed the most interesting hour of Dave Dashaway’s life. The
friend of everybody, he had been the confidant and helper of many a lad
in difficulties. As bit by bit the strange history of Elmer Brackett
came out, however, Dave conceded that it was the most remarkable case he
had ever handled.

Briefly, the reckless, impetuous son of the big man in the Interstate
Aero Company had become the helpless victim of the schemes of Vernon.
Young Brackett did not tell Dave everything. He hinted that while in a
muddled condition he had been induced by Vernon to forge a number of
notes.

Once completely in the power of the schemer, the latter showed no mercy.
He appalled Brackett by claiming that he could send him to the
penitentiary, disgrace his family, and almost ruin his father’s
business. These claims were, in a measure, exaggerations.

Elmer Brackett then lost his head completely. His one thought was to
escape from Vernon. He disguised himself, after sending a letter to his
father, warning him against the forgeries, and saying he was going to
seek some foreign country where he could lose himself and be forgotten.

“I had no money, I dared not appeal to friends, for Vernon was seeking
for me everywhere to tighten the chains of his power around me,” related
the youth, bitterly. “I thought of you, and while tracing down the
_Albatross_ I ran across Davidson and young Dawson and their _Dictator_.
Maybe it was a wild idea, but I thought how it would just suit me to get
away from this country by airship, for Vernon had claimed that if I left
him he would have the detectives looking out for me everywhere. Well, I
hung around Senca. Then, as I didn’t think much of the way the
_Dictator_ showed up, I went to Croydon.”

“It was you, then, who asked my friend, Hiram Dobbs, about me, and wore
a false mustache?”

“Yes, I was disguised,” admitted Brackett.

“And you were, too, the ghost who scared the watchman at the _Albatross_
aerodrome nearly into fits!”

“That was me, too,” admitted Brackett. “The night before you started I
sneaked aboard the airship. I stowed myself away behind the big boxes of
provisions near the cabin here. I heard and saw what was going on. Then
that crowd of outlaws came, I got the magazine gun from the arsenal,
and—here I am.”

“And here you wish to stay till we get across the Atlantic?” said the
young aviator. “Good! Now, then, take my advice; forget all this
wretched fear and trouble that is part of your past. Help us win the
great prize, and when this trip is over trust to it that Mr. King and
Mr. Dale will find time and money to squelch this miserable Vernon,
straighten out your affairs, and start you on a new career.”

Elmer Brackett, minus the lampblack and encouraged by Dave, was soon
quite another person in appearance and spirits to the refugee stowaway.
Dave imparted to his friends only as much of Brackett’s story as was
necessary.

The following morning the boys awoke to find the _Albatross_ out of all
sight of land, fairly started on the great trip across the broad
Atlantic.

                              CHAPTER XXI

                          THE HAUNTED AIRSHIP

“Say, fellows, this is life on the ocean wave worth seeing, isn’t it?”

Hiram Dobbs spoke the words, and his auditors and jolly companions were
the young aviator and Elmer Brackett. It was the second evening out of
sight of land. The _Albatross_ had made splendid speed, and the
machinery had acted like a charm. Just about dusk, however, Professor
Leblance had ordered a drop to lower level.

“There is a low barometric pressure,” Dave Dashaway had heard him say to
Mr. King. “There is bound to be a change in the air currents shortly,
and I want to determine our course from the way they act. There are some
repairs to make, also, and we will slow down for at least two hours.”

The boys were immensely interested in the manœuvers of their craft under
the direct manipulation of the professor. The _Albatross_ was brought to
the surface of the water, resting on its floats as easily and gracefully
as the great ocean bird it was named after. A hint from the cook sat
Hiram thinking. Fresh fish would come in very acceptably for breakfast
next morning, he told Dave, and the trio decided to take the lighter of
the two boats and see what they could catch.

Mr. King warned them to keep within hailing range of the airship and
provided them with trolling lines. The young aviator and Elmer plied the
oars and Hiram did the fishing. He was gloating over the occasion with
satisfaction, and made the enthusiastic remark which heads the chapter
as he deposited a final catch, a fat codfish, in the bottom of the boat.

“That will do, Hiram,” directed Dave. “We have got more fish already
than we can use in a week, and some of them look as if they were not in
the eating class. The cook will know.”

“Yes, and see, we are quite a distance from the _Albatross_,” put in
Elmer.

A weird warning wind sang about them just then. The boys had been so
engrossed in their sport they had failed to notice that some scudding
clouds had obliterated the stars.

“Get to work, Elmer,” ordered Dave, picking up the oars. “We must be a
full mile from the _Albatross_.”

“Yes, and maybe that storm Professor Leblance told about is going to
catch us,” remarked Elmer, he too getting in shape for a row back to the
airship.

The minor headlight of the _Albatross_ guided them, and for this, a dim
spark in the distance, the little yawl was headed. The water had become
choppy, but the oarsmen felt equal to the task of the moment.

“Just see that!” shouted Hiram, as a phosphorescent streak crossed their
course. “It’s like a streak of fire.”

“There’s another one ahead,” said Elmer.

“Yes, and look! look!” exclaimed Hiram. “It’s a shoal of fishes. Big
fellows, too. Say, see them leap out of the water.”

It was a stimulating sight and a novel one to the boys. They were now
within less than a quarter of a mile of the airship. As Hiram spoke, the
big searchlight of the _Albatross_ suddenly flared up. It signalled the
boys to return, as Dave understood it.

“Say, I’m going to make a throw for one of those big fellows,” declared
Hiram.

“Don’t do it. Whew!” exclaimed Elmer. “They are big fellows. Did you
feel that?”

Some object had landed against the side of the yawl, nearly tipping it.

“It’s a big fish, almost as big as a shark!” shouted Hiram. “They’re
chasing the smaller ones. Whoop! I’ve caught something. Hurrah! Slow
down! Oh, the mischief!”

All in a fleeting second the excited lad shouted out, tugged at the
trolling line, bracing his feet against the bottom of the boat, and
then—flop! splash!

“Stop the boat!” rang out the voice of the young aviator, sharply, for
Hiram, his hand tangled in the trolling line, had been pulled clear over
the end of the yawl. His startled comrades saw him disappear, and strove
staunchly to put the boat about. As the craft half turned, there was a
shock and a crash.

A giant fish, perhaps a shark, had struck the boat amidships. The craft
was splintered in half as quick as a flash. The next minute the young
aviator and his companion were struggling in the water.

The big marine monster had apparently gone straight on its way in
pursuit of a disappearing phosphorescent mass. Dave grabbed out at the
one floating half of the wrecked yawl.

“This way—Hiram! Elmer!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

“I’m here,” panted Elmer, as he reached Dave’s side and grasped the edge
of the floating wreck.

“Where’s Hiram?”

“U-um! Thunder!” puffed the individual in question. “I’m safe, but my
big catch got away, line and all.”

“Never mind that now,” replied Dave. “We’re in a serious fix, fellows.”

“And all the fish in the boat gone, too,” mourned Hiram, dolefully.

“See here, both of you,” ordered Dave, decisively, “don’t waste any
time. We don’t know what kind of danger hovers about us. Yell!”

“Good and loud!” agreed Hiram, letting out a terrific warwhoop. The
others chorused in. Dave believed that their forlorn hail might have
some effect.

“They’ve heard us,” cried Hiram, joyfully.

“Yes, here she comes,” added Elmer, in a relieved tone.

The searchlight on the _Albatross_ was suddenly shifted. Its broad,
groping rays were focussed on the sea, searching for the castaways. The
glowing pencils of light came nearer and nearer. Finally the full
dazzling gleam swept the wreck and those clinging to it, and rested on
it.

“They have seen us,” declared the young aviator, as the searchlight
maintained a full focus directly upon them.

“And what next?” inquired Hiram.

“We will have to wait and see,” replied Dave.

Relief and rescue came almost magically quick. The larger yawl of the
_Albatross_ glided across the broad path of light, the veteran airman,
the anxious Grimshaw and two others its occupants.

“This ends all experiments in the fishing line,” declared Mr. King. “It
is a wonder some of those sharks did not attack you.”

“The searchlight probably scared them away,” suggested Grimshaw.

The adventure furnished a fruitful theme for discussion when the boys
were once more back in the comfortable cabin of the airship. Hiram,
however, continued to expatiate on his great catch and greater loss.

“I’ll bet it was a dolphin pulled me out of the boat,” he declared.
“Just think of it, fellows—catching a dolphin! That’s something to brag
about.”

A storm set in within the hour and the _Albatross_ speedily sought a
higher level. All the boys knew about it was what Mr. King told them the
next morning. The pleasing swaying motion of the giant craft had lulled
them to sound and refreshing slumber.

It was again after dark the next evening when the cook came into the
cabin, and looked at Mr. King in a manner that made the airman inquire
curiously:

“What’s on your mind, Demys?”

“Why, I found a window broken in the room just beyond the larder,”
reported the cook.

“Hailstone, maybe,” said Mr. King, casually; “you know we had some last
night.”

“Yes, I know that,” replied the man. “Later to-day I noticed two more
panes of glass cracked right across.”

“Perhaps the big strain of the wind in the storm last night weakened
them,” suggested the airman.

“Maybe,” assented the cook, vaguely. “Funny thing, though. I set a pan
of beans in the room to cool before supper. When I went after them just
now I found nearly half of them gone.”

“Is that so, now?” questioned Mr. King, beginning to get interested.

“Say, don’t you suppose it was rats?” propounded the quick-thinking
Hiram.

“No, sir!” declared the cook definitely. “I have never noticed a trace
of rats in the _Albatross_.”

“Then I’ll bet it’s another stowaway—say, just like Elmer here was.”

All hands laughed abruptly at this unique piece of guesswork.

“I reckon I was the only intruder aboard, Hiram,” remarked Elmer,
good-naturedly.

“Well, the beans are gone and somebody ate them,” said the cook. “It
couldn’t be anybody of the crew, for no one has passed through the
galley but myself, and the room I speak of is beyond it.”

“Suppose we investigate?” suggested the young aviator.

“That’s it,” agreed the impetuous Hiram. “Come on, fellows.”

All hands followed the cook to his quarters. They inspected the galley
and then entered the room beyond it. Sure enough, there was the dish of
beans, nearly half its original contents missing.

Hiram and Elmer explored every nook and corner of the place where there
was the least opportunity for a stowaway to hide. Their search was
without results.

“It’s certainly something of a mystery,” decided the young aviator.
“Those cracked windows, too. Why,” he added, examining them closely, “it
looks as though some one had deliberately hammered on them until they
gave way, as you see.”

There was another sensation the next evening. The cook came rushing into
the cabin. Mr. King happened to be on hand.

“I’m getting superstitious and scared,” declared the cook.

“What’s up now?” interrogated the airman.

“Enough for anybody’s nerves,” reported the man. “Sounds, scrapings,
sort of low groans. I’m beginning to believe the airship is haunted.”

“Nonsense!” said Mr. King. “When did you hear these strange noises you
describe?”

“Just now. See here, some of you come with me and see if you can figure
this thing out.”

The boys were ready enough for the investigation. The cook led them to
the galley, and they sat down as he put out all the lights.

“Now keep perfectly quiet and listen patiently,” directed the young
aviator.

“There’s something,” spoke Hiram in a hoarse whisper, as a queer cooing
sound came from the watched room. “Gently, now,” he added and crept
through the doorway.

There was a fluttering sound. Dave traced it to a corner of the room
where there were some boxes. The noise came from behind them. He groped
with his hand, and his fingers finally grazed a feathery, shrinking
object.

“Flare a light,” he called out instantly. “I’ve caught the stowaway.”

“Who is it? what is it?” cried Hiram, rushing forward as the electric
lights were turned on.

“Why, it’s a bird—a pigeon,” announced Dave, dragging into view a
ruffled, timid dove. “Here’s your mystery explained. The bird must have
been driven through the broken window during that storm the other night.
The poor thing was famished and ate the beans. Then it cracked the
window panes trying to get out again.”

“You’ve got it, Dave,” declared Hiram, “only, say, what is that fastened
under its wing?”

“Why, sure enough,” said Dave, observing what looked like an oilskin
package fastened with silk cord under the wing of the bird. “Fellows,
this must be a carrier dove. We must see Mr. King about this.”

The airman inspected the oilskin package. He read a written enclosure it
contained.

“This is a trained passenger pigeon,” he said. “Started from Rio de
Janeiro and carrying a message to its former home in Washington. Feed up
the bird, boys, and we’ll send the brave little thing again on its
journey.”

The next morning when the carrier pigeon was set free, started
landwards, it bore a second message. This told the world that the giant
airship was eight hundred miles on its trip across the broad Atlantic.

                              CHAPTER XXII

                              FIRE AT SEA

“Well, Dave, they stole a march on us last night.”

“How is that, Hiram?” questioned the young aviator.

“Landed. Yes, sir, the _Albatross_ made a landing about midnight on the
beach of some island—Bermuda or Bahama, or something like that. Last
point of land this side of Europe, the professor says. Took on a fresh
supply of water. Mr. King visited the town nearby and got some papers,
and sent a message to the aero association.”

Hiram had just come from the cabin, preceding his comrade in waking up
by a few minutes. When the two friends went to the cabin they found
young Brackett waiting to take breakfast with them.

A few days had made a marked change in the new passenger of the
_Albatross_. Everybody was pleasant and encouraging to him. He had
become greatly interested in the workings of the airship. Dave had
suggested to him that, owing to the fact that his father was a foremost
manufacturer in the aeroplane line, he had a splendid opportunity to
begin business life in the same field.

The _Albatross_ had started out on its real voyage in fine shape,
weather conditions being perfect. So far, except for the adventure among
the mountain men of North Carolina, not one adverse incident had marred
the flight.

The three friends chatted and joked buoyantly while dispatching their
appetizing meal. Young Brackett had picked up one of the newspapers
brought to the airship from the island just after midnight. He was
looking it over casually, when he uttered a quick cry as of startled
amazement.

“It’s not true!” he almost shouted, and he brought his fist down upon
the table to emphasize the remark with such force that the dishes
rattled.

“What’s not true, Brackett?” inquired the young aviator, in some
surprise.

“Listen!” called out the lad in considerable excitement, and then he
read from the newspaper:

“Another red, white and blue float was picked up three hundred miles
from land by the steamer _Royale_. It proved to contain a dispatch with
the readings: ‘Aug. 21, altitude one thousand feet, course due east,
making splendid time. Airship _Dictator_: Signed, Roger Davidson, Perry
Dawson, on board.’”

“That sounds like business,” exclaimed Hiram. “The twenty-first. That’s
the day we started. They were forty-eight hours ahead of us.”

“Not true!” again declared young Brackett, sharply.

“You mean?” asked Dave, in wonder.

“Davidson and Dawson are not aboard of the _Dictator_.”

“Oh, pshaw, now how can you say that,” challenged the impetuous Hiram,
“when here is the clear evidence?”

“You seem to know something we don’t know,” remarked Dave, with a close
glance at Brackett. “The public prints announced that Davidson and
Dawson started with the _Dictator_ on the trip across the Atlantic on
the afternoon of the nineteenth.”

“They did,” nodded Brackett. “I saw them. But they came back.”

“What’s that?” cried Hiram.

“Yes, they did.”

“In the _Dictator_?”

“Oh, no, and that’s the queer part of it. They may have lost their
nerve—it looks that way. They may have hired someone else to take the
risk of the trip. Anyhow, they got out of the _Dictator_ after leaving
Senca, and came back there at midnight. I slept that night in the place
where they had built the _Dictator_. I saw them come, I saw them go
away.”

“Brackett, you astonish me,” said Dave, bluntly. “Are you sure of what
you say?”

“Perfectly,” declared the lad, with positiveness. “Davidson and Dawson
came secretly to the old aerodrome. They had a big automobile, and
loaded into it a long box. Both were disguised, and I recognized them
only by their voices. I heard them speak of getting to the steamer. How
to explain these dispatches, apparently dropped from the _Dictator_ into
the ocean, I don’t know. I’ve only told you what I do know.”

“Mr. King must know of this,” said Dave, thoughtfully.

No plausible solution of the tangle was arrived at, however. Amid the
sheer exhilaration and activity of their own superb flight, the crew of
the _Albatross_ soon forgot the incident surrounding the rival airship
with new mystery.

For two days and nights the giant airship made an even, steady run, true
as a needle to a set course. There was a slight mist over the waters the
next evening. So fair and promising was the weather, that Professor
Leblance had deviated from the route he had first laid out. He had made
an aerial short cut. The result was that they were somewhat out of the
regular path of ocean travelers.

It was always a pleasure for the boys to watch out nights for the
steamers far beneath them. That night, Grimshaw, seated at one of the
windows, remarked in his usual laconic way:

“Light ahoy!”

“Where away?” chirped the active Hiram, who was priding himself on
becoming quite nautical.

“Just ahead, somewhat to the southeast.”

“I see it,” said the young aviator.

“So do I,” joined in Hiram. “Why, say,” he added, excitedly a minute or
two later, “that’s no light. It’s a fire.”

As they progressed and the radiance became plainer, all hands decided
that Hiram was right. Nearer and nearer they came to the growing light.
Flames became visible, then the fire fringed the outlines of hull and
rigging.

Dave ran to the pilot room and quickly advised Mr. King of the
circumstance. Professor Leblance was summoned from the engine room.

“Slow down and focus the searchlight on the ship,” he ordered.

This was done. It was a vivid and exciting scene. The great fingers of
radiance went groping all about the craft. No one seemed aboard. No one
seemed struggling in the waves about the ship.

Fast to its stern, however, by a long cable and thus held in position,
was a rude raft. The searchlight showed a man standing upon this and
viewing the blazing ship. At his feet, covered over with a tarpaulin,
there seemed to be another human form.

“We cannot leave those people to their fate,” said the Professor. “Mr.
King, we will drop the floats and stop, while you and the boys take the
emergency yawl and go after whoever may be aboard of that raft.”

The _Albatross_ rested its floats lightly upon the water and skimmed it
slowly at an even height, like the royal bird after which it was named.

The handling of the yawl was of a piece with the operation of all the
perfect utilities of the airship. The three boys took the oars and the
airman acted as pilot.

Just as they got near to the raft they saw the man standing upright upon
it, sever the cable holding it to the burning ship. The heat from the
flames had evidently become too intense for him to bear. Then he posed
in an attitude of suspense and eagerness, a wiry, keen-eyed little man.
He had a long, oval metal box strapped across his shoulder, and was
dripping wet.

“Good for you!” he hailed, as the airman grappled the raft with a
boathook.

“Ship caught fire, did it?” remarked Mr. King.

“No, I set it.”

The yawl crew stared almost unbelievingly at the man as he made this
statement, but he went on calmly:

“I had to. She’s water logged, and bound to sink the first capful of
breeze that hits her.”

“Where are the passengers and crew?” asked the airman.

“Abandoned her early this morning. I was down in the cabin getting
this”—and the speaker tapped the tin box as though it contained
something precious. “They missed me, and were away in the boat before I
knew it.”

“But the fire?”

“I made this raft ready against the ship scuttling. Thought I’d fire the
ship for a signal for help. You see it did some good.”

“Well, get aboard,” ordered the airman.

“What about him?” inquired the shipwrecked man, and he pointed to the
tarpaulin on the raft.

“Someone there?”

“Yes.”

“Who is it?”

“A man I rescued not an hour ago. He lay across a wooden grating,
floating along past the ship. His head is bleeding, and he is
unconscious.”

Mr. King directed Dave and Hiram to assist in lifting the insensible man
to the yawl. The latter was limp and lifeless as some water logged rat.
They placed him in the bottom of the yawl and resumed their oars.

“See here,” spoke the man with the tin box, “the best you can do for me
is a sky sailor, is it?”

“That, or nothing,” replied the airman.

“Where are you bound for?”

“Across the Atlantic, for Europe.”

“I knew it would come some day,” observed the rescued man quite coolly.
“You see, I’m an inventor myself. I’ve got in that tin box patents for a
new kind of color photography that will make me millions. I’m not
altogether poor just now, either, and if you set me and my patents safe
on _terra firma_ almost anywhere, I’ll pay a handsome reckoning.”

Within the hour the rescued men were hoisted safely into the airship and
the yawl replaced in position. The unconscious man had been carried into
one of the staterooms. Professor Leblance had quite a smattering of
medicine. He examined the patient, prepared some remedies from a
medicine chest the craft carried, and came into the cabin to report to
Mr. Dale.

“A very sick man. What water and exposure have not done, a bad cut on
the head has. He is delirious and in a weak and feverish condition. I
would suggest that you in the cabin here take turns in caring for him.”

All hands were agreeable to this. In the excitement and bustle of the
rescue, Dave and the others had not particularly noticed the sufferer.
Dave had scarcely entered the place where the patient lay, however, with
Hiram, when he gave a great start. He stood with his eyes fixed on the
man, as he spoke hurriedly to his comrade.

“Go to Mr. King and tell him to come here at once.”

“What is it, Dashaway?” inquired the airman, appearing a few minutes
later.

“Look, Mr. King,” said the young aviator, pointing to the prostrate man;
“who is he?”

“Impossible!” ejaculated Mr. King, starting back. “Why, it’s Roger
Davidson!”

There was no doubt of the fact. In turn Grimshaw, young Brackett and
even Hiram confirmed the identification.

“Here’s a new mystery for you,” admitted Mr. King, coming into the cabin
an hour later. “The clothes that man wore show little adaptability to
airship work. In one of his pockets I found the main stub of a steamship
ticket. He never fell from any airship. I can account for his
extraordinary appearance upon the scene in one way only.”

“And that?” questioned Mr. Dale.

“Is that he was lost off some ocean steamer. One thing certain—the
_Dictator_ never started across the Atlantic with this man in charge.”

For three days Davidson lay insensible most of the time. Meanwhile the
_Albatross_ coursed its way without accident or delay. All hands were
delighted over the success thus far of their wonderful enterprise. They
passed the three-quarters distance mark with every prospect of reaching
goal in splendid trim.

It was a cool, cloudy and misty night, and both the professor and airman
were on close guard on account of the changed weather conditions. The
boys were reading in the cozy cabin. Grimshaw and Mr. Dale had gone to
bed, and everything seemed proceeding smoothly in engine and pilot
rooms. Finally Hiram looked up from his book.

“We are surely going to make it,” he remarked. “The professor says that
it will be a clean shoot ahead for land first thing in the morning.”

“I can hardly realize that there is every chance of reaching the goal
and winning the prize,” observed the young aviator.

“Say, what was that?” abruptly interjected young Brackett.

There had come a sudden shock. It resembled a wrench, a shiver; as if
some vital part of the giant mechanism had met with disaster.

“Something wrong!” cried Dave, springing to his feet.

At that moment a blood-curdling yell echoed through the airship.

                             CHAPTER XXIII

                            THE FORLORN HOPE

Hiram and Brackett joined the young aviator in a rush for the passageway
leading to the pilot room. It was from that direction that the cry had
echoed.

A sharp, double danger signal rang out from the engine room. There were
sounds of distant shouts. The yell was repeated. Some keen intuition
drove Dave to the stateroom which had served as invalid ward for the man
rescued from the raft.

“Hiram,” cried the young aviator, “Davidson is gone!”

“Why, it can’t be! Say—whew! suppose he’s gone wild, and is rambling all
over the ship among that machinery!”

Snap—crack! Following upon the echoes of that second terrific cry, a
disturbing thing had happened—every electric light in the _Albatross_
went out!

To add to the confusion and terror of the moment, in the direction of
the engine room there rang out a thumping, crashing sound, as if some
disjointed part of the machinery was beating things to pieces like a
steel flail.

“Stand still,” ordered Dave, sharply, “don’t try to grope about in the
dark. It’s no use.”

The young aviator felt his way out into a corridor leading to the supply
room. It was a fortunate thing that he had familiarized himself with
everything about the place. Dave located a certain cabinet, and opening
one of its drawers, took out what he was after—an armful of electric
hand lights carrying their own batteries.

“Here, Hiram, Brackett,” he called, flashing one of the tubes. “Take
some of these. Follow me. I don’t know that the people in the engine
rooms have any way of getting a light. Let us hurry to them.”

“Hold on!” shouted a new voice, and Grimshaw bolted upon the scene.
“What’s the trouble?”

“We don’t know, but something pretty serious, I imagine,” replied Dave,
quickly. “Take these.”

He furnished Grimshaw with two of the electric tubes. Then Dave led the
way to the pilot room. He found Mr. King lighting matches to get some
kind of illumination, and as ignorant themselves as to the condition of
affairs. The aviator at once led a rush in the direction of the engine
room. They arrived at the ante-chamber leading to it to come upon a
stirring scene.

A small hand lamp only illuminated the apartment. It contained four men,
the professor, two of his assistants, and these latter were holding to
the floor and battling with and binding hand and foot a wild, struggling
maniac—Roger Davidson.

“He got loose!” cried the aviator, at once reading the situation.

“And in his frenzy has done terrible damage to the _Albatross_,”
exclaimed Professor Leblance, pale, disturbed and anxious-faced. “It is
very serious, I fear. Get him away to the cabin as speedily as you can,
and watch him every minute. You, Mr. King, resume your post at the pilot
table. Dashaway, hurry all the spare light tubes here.”

There was a shivery, uncertain wobble to the giant airship now. The
prodigious construction resembled some monster machine that had received
a vital wound. Dave hastened on his mission. As he returned to the
engine room he passed Hiram, Brackett and one of the assistants,
carrying Davidson back to the stateroom.

Mr. King was at his post at the pilot table, and looked worried and
helpless. The electric apparatus of the airship having been destroyed,
he could only sit and use the speaking tubes.

Dave found the engine room in hideous disorder. The engine was not in
operation, and parts of it were all out of order. The professor and his
men were getting a reserve engine in shape. For over an hour, silently,
and deeply engrossed in all that was going on, the young aviator placed
the light tubes as directed, and brought this and that tool and
machine-fitting to the workmen as Professor Leblance ordered.

Dave saw the new engine started up. The professor held a long, whispered
conversation with one of his men. Then he beckoned to Dave and led the
way to the pilot room.

The Frenchman sank into a chair there, his face gray and careworn. They
were three anxious ones. Leblance passed his hand over his eyes wearily,
as if he had gone through a terrible ordeal.

“Well?” said the aviator simply.

“That maniac threw an iron bar into the machinery. He has ruined
everything,” announced Leblance.

“But the new engine?”

“Can only operate the rudder control. The entire mechanism is
practically destroyed, my friends. I must not conceal from you that the
situation is desperate, dangerous, almost hopeless!”

“But we are still running, Professor?” submitted the aviator.

“With one forlorn hope in view.”

“Of reaching the end of our voyage?”

“That we can never hope for,” declared the Frenchman, in a gloomy tone.

“Then—what?” bluntly demanded the aviator.

Leblance arose to his feet, running one hand over his eyes with a swift
movement as if to restore impaired vision or brush away tears. He
proceeded to a map attached to the wall just above the pilot table. His
fingers traced the course already traversed by the _Albatross_.

“We are here,” he said, halting the faltering index. “Ahead, observe, is
an island. It is two hundred miles southwest of the coast of France. We
may possibly reach it by exhausting every utility we possess. If we do
not, within the next forty-eight hours——”

The professor shrugged his shoulders slowly, sadly this time. An
expression of ineffable solemnity crossed his noble face.

He pointed down as if indicating unknown depths waiting to swallow them
up. Then he again ran his finger across the map, pausing at that little
dark speck that marked the island.

“A change of wind,” he said, “a single break in the apparatus, a
trifling leak, and we are at the mercy of the mishap of our lives! That
island—it is our last forlorn hope!”

                              CHAPTER XXIV

                                 GOAL!

“It’s too bad,” said Hiram, and the young aviator’s assistant was very
nearly at the point of tears.

“We can only make the best of it,” returned Dave, trying to be
philosophical. “At any rate, we made a grand run.”

“Yes, it’s something to beat the world’s record, even half the way,”
agreed Hiram. “But think of it—only for that awful break of Davidson
we’d have won the day!”

The two young airmen sat outside of a wretched little hotel, a part of a
remote fishing town on the island that had been “the forlorn hope” of
the _Albatross_. The giant airship had succeeded in reaching it.

As Dave sat rather gloomily reviewing experience and prospects, he could
not help but think of the past two nights and a day with a thrill. That
had been a desperate, hair-breadth dash of the crippled airship. Without
knowing all the technical details of their situation, Dave had read from
the tireless, feverish actions of Professor Leblance, that he was
rushing the _Albatross_ under a fearful strain of risk and suspense,
momentarily dreading a new and final disaster.

Before daylight, with a flabby gas bag and with the reserve engine
barely able to work the propellers, the _Albatross_ had settled down on
a desolate stretch of beach, practically a wreck.

“The mechanism has played out completely,” Leblance had asserted.
“According to the regulations of the international society, the flight
must end on the French or English mainland. We are two hundred miles
short. We might as well be two thousand.”

“Is there no possible chance of getting new machinery, of making
temporary repairs that will tide us over?” suggested Mr. King.

“Impossible, under days, even weeks,” replied the Frenchman. “On the
rule schedule a stay at any point over twelve hours cancels the right of
entry.”

It was, indeed, too bad—so near to success, so very close to goal! A
profound gloom had spread over every member of the airship crowd. The
islanders had viewed the strange craft with excited curiosity at first,
and had then gone back to their fishing. Davidson had been removed to a
room at the little hotel, young Brackett in charge as his nurse, and all
the others had taken up their quarters as well.

The young aviator and his comrade had been discussing the situation
seated on an overturned boat. Hiram at length arose with a dreary kind
of sigh and strolled aimlessly back towards the hotel. Dave sat thinking
deeply. He started up, however, as he saw Brackett coming towards him.

“Dashaway,” he said quite excitedly, “I’ve got to get back to my charge,
don’t dare to leave him alone, you know but I wanted you to read
something,” and the speaker extended some folded sheets of paper.

“Why, what is this?” inquired the young aviator.

“You know I understand shorthand—humph! it’s about all I am good for, I
reckon,” added Elmer, in his usual deprecating way. “Well, for the past
hour or two my patient has been saying some strange things.”

“What about?” asked Dave—“the _Dictator_ and Jerry Dawson, I suppose?”

“You’ve guessed it. I’ve written out his ramblings in long hand. I fancy
your quick mind will weave a pretty startling story out of it all.”

“There’s the professor,” said Dave abruptly, “I’ll read your notes
later, Brackett,” and he thrust the sheets into his pocket, and started
towards the beach as he saw Professor Leblance leave the hotel, bound in
the same direction.

The failure of the ambitious Frenchman had almost crushed him. Dave felt
sorry for him as he noted the drooping head and dejected manner of the
scientist. He did not approach him closely, but followed him at a
distance. As they rounded some rocks the _Albatross_ came into full
view.

Professor Leblance, walking slowly, gazed with sadness upon the inert
monster of the air. Then he looked up at a hail. A fisherman was running
towards him. Dave noticed the professor brace up magically at the first
words of the native. The latter pointed to the air and the sea. His
pantomime was expressive and energetic.

There came a sudden blast of wind, and then Dave understood. He noticed
the professor start on a keen run for the _Albatross_. He was up the
trailing rope ladder sprightly as a lad, shouting some orders to the
fisherman, who ran towards the guy cable attached to a great tree trunk.

“It can’t be possible,” almost gasped the startled young airman, “that
Professor Leblance is thinking of trusting to the wind alone to finish
the flight. It’s true! I won’t be left behind!”

Dave caught at the ladder just as the propeller began to whir. By the
time he was in the cabin the earth was fading away. He threaded the
corridors in the direction of the engine room.

“Dashaway!” shouted the professor in amazement, as the young airman
burst in upon him.

“Yes, Professor, I am here,” said Dave. “You are going to make a try to
reach the mainland? I am with you.”

There was no time for compliments, explanations or delay. In two
minutes’ time the professor had made his assistant aware of what was
required of him. Practically only as a balloon could the _Albatross_ now
act, and only provided the strong wind maintained in precisely the
direction it was now set.

“See, my friend,” spoke Leblance, eagerly, “we have no control whatever
over the planes. The steering apparatus, too, is useless. The engine
will barely take care of the propellers. If you know how to operate
them, take my seat here. Keep the rudder locked firm. That is all we can
do. For the rest—it is a risk, a perilous risk.”

“Anything to get there!” cried Dave; and then the professor left him
alone.

The _Albatross_ had risen to a good altitude at her first spurt. She
drove with the wind at a wonderful rate of speed. At the end of an hour,
however, the young aviator noticed a gradual drop. The buoyancy of the
gas bag was lessening.

After that Dave heard the professor working with tools below the cabin.
He was quite startled as there was a jerk. Then he saw first one and
then the other of the aeroplane attachments go hurtling down to the
water, engulfed by the ocean.

Relieved of such an incubus the airship regained a higher level. Two
hours went by, then three. The professor appeared in a great state of
excitement and hopefulness.

“She’s dropping again, but don’t let up for an instant,” he ordered. “I
see the land ahead—two hours more, and we’ve made it.”

“Will the gas last?” inquired the young aviator, seriously.

“I am about to free our final reserve—one tank. That will do for a
spell. Then—if I have to explode the balloonets into the main gas
chamber, we must keep aloft till we are over land.”

Up—down—up—down—that was the progress for the next two hours. Once it
was nearly a volplane drift, and the dauntless young pilot of the
_Albatross_ fancied they were headed for a dive straight into the
ocean’s depths.

A final rise, and Dave’s heart cheered as he saw land not two miles
distant. Professor Leblance rushed into the engine room.

“Drift!” he ordered—“let her drop as she likes now—we have arrived!”

The brave old scientist tottered from excitement and exhaustion as he
spoke. A great, thrilling cheer seemed to lift from the lips of the
young aviator, and ten minutes later the _Albatross_, a wobbling,
flabby, weather-worn wreck, landed on a great dock in the sight of
waiting thousands.

“Boy,” spoke Professor Leblance, in a ringing tone and with sparkling
eyes, “we have reached goal! The giant airship has crossed the
Atlantic!”

                              CHAPTER XXV

                               CONCLUSION

“This is Professor Leblance, I believe? We have been expecting you,
sir.”

“And this is my friend and co-worker, David Dashaway,” spoke the French
scientist, proudly.

It was thirty-six hours after the giant airship had landed on French
soil. Within that space of time rapid and interesting events had been
crowded into the experience of the young American aviator.

At once after the landing, the professor had sought out the nearest
resident representative of the French Aero Association. This individual
had officially verified the arrival of the _Albatross_. Armed with the
necessary credentials, Leblance and his young assistant had started at
once for London.

Their destination, now reached, was the International Aero Institute,
with whom trans-Atlantic negotiations had been made before the
_Albatross_ started on its trip. The French official had wired about the
coming of the distinguished visitors.

Now Dave Dashaway, like the professor, arrayed in a handsome new suit of
clothes, stood in the office of one of the most noted organizations in
the aero world.

The first flush of the recent triumph still dwelt with Dave. Then there
flashed over his mind the marvelous contrast between the present moment
and less than six months previous. Then he had been the obscure
down-trodden ward of a cruel guardian. Now through a mist of grateful
tears the young aviator thought tenderly of the right royal friends who
had assisted in crossing the Atlantic in the giant airship and who had
loyally helped him to become the honored guest of men famous the world
over for science and intelligent adventure.

The secretary of the club who had greeted them stood aside with a
courteous bow to usher them into the reception room of the club. As he
did so he said:

“We are proud to greet you, Professor. Your exploit will live in
history, notwithstanding that you are second in the remarkable feat of
crossing the Atlantic in an airship.”

The sensitive Frenchman recoiled as though dealt a blow.

“How?” he cried sharply. “Second? what does this mean?”

“You had not heard? Ah, yes, the _Dictator_, pilot J. E. Dawson, landed
near Plymouth day before yesterday. After a terrible trip, clinging to
the mere rag of a gas bag, Dawson was found nearly drowned on the
seashore.”

Professor Leblance sank to a chair stupefied. He stared like a man
stunned into vacancy. He was completely overcome.

A strange expression crossed the face of the young aviator. Impulsively
his hand went to a certain document that Elmer Brackett had given him
two days before. His eye grew more steady, his lips more firm.

“Will you kindly give me a few details of the _Dictator_ flight,” he
requested, “while Professor Leblance recovers from his surprise?”

It was a brief story. The red, white and blue gas bag had landed near
Plymouth. The daring pilot was discovered clinging to it, drenched to
the skin. He had been feted, honored, brought to London. He was even now
in the next room, relating his wonderful adventures to the president and
directors of the club.

“Come, Professor Leblance,” said Dave, in a clear, steady tone, “I have
something to say to this wonderful J. E. Dawson.”

“Professor Leblance and Mr. Dashaway, of the _Albatross_,” introduced
the secretary, a minute later.

Lolling in a luxurious armchair in the midst of some braggadocio
recital, with a startled jerk Jerry Dawson came upright as though
electrified.

The eye of the young aviator rested upon him with a fixedness that made
him squirm.

“Happy to meet you, Professor Leblance,” greeted the club official. “You
share a most glorious exploit with our guest.”

“One word first,” interrupted Dave, amazed at his own firmness of voice
and nerve. “So there may be no later misunderstanding, does that young
man, whom I recognize as a Mr. Dawson, claim to have arrived first in
the race across the Atlantic?”

“Most assuredly,” responded the club president.

“His claim is unfounded,” declared the young aviator in a calm, even
tone, but with great positiveness. “He is an adventurer, a fraud. He
crossed the Atlantic on the steamer _Alsatia_. The balloon found on the
Plymouth coast is a duplicate of the _Dictator_ which he brought along
with him, and the original _Dictator_, after a brief land run, was
purposely burned up fifty miles from New York city.”

“Who says so?” shouted Jerry Dawson, getting excitedly to his feet.

“Roger Davidson,” replied the young aviator, simply.

Jerry Dawson grew white to the lips. He foresaw the losing game, but
still he blurted out:

“The proofs?”

“Gentlemen,” said Dave, “a cablegram will serve to order an
investigation of the ashes of the _Dictator_. A living witness as to the
shipboard experience of this young romancer can be brought to London as
soon as our friends are reached.”

“Why, if this is true, the club will be the laughing stock of the
world,” observed the president, bending a dark look on Jerry.

“I—I think I’ll go and consult a lawyer about this insulting charge,”
ventured Jerry. “Let me out.”

“No, we will kick you out, if this is all true!” shouted an angry
director.

“You will remain here,” said the president, firmly. “Your story, sir,
the truthful one; or we shall hold you criminally for false
representation.”

Jerry was scared. Dave’s resolute face daunted him most of all. He
trembled and shivered. By degrees he confessed. He was taken to the
office of the club to furnish a signed statement. Then he was turned
loose on the streets of London—exit ingloriously Jerry Dawson!

The invalid wanderings of Davidson had supplied his nurse, Elmer
Brackett, with a pretty clear history of the plot to impose a duplicate
_Dictator_ on the public. While under the influence of a drug, Davidson
had fallen from the steamer, and Jerry had thrown a grating after him.
Perhaps the hope of securing all the international prize money for
himself, had led Jerry to say nothing further about the accident.

There was a great celebration at a noted London hotel the week
following. The most humble member of the crew of the _Albatross_ was
present.

Money and fame had come to them all. Dave Dashaway was the central
figure with the public. Professor Leblance seemed to take most pride in
the construction of the _Albatross_. Young, enterprising, popular, Dave,
as the last man at the helm of the ill-fated _Albatross_, was the real
hero of the event.

“Well, lads,” said the happy Professor Leblance across the table to
Dave, Hiram and Elmer, “you have now reached so high a notch in
aeronautic science that you can go no further.”

“Mistake,” piped up the irrepressible Hiram.

“Oh, yes, a grave mistake, Professor,” insisted young Brackett.

Dave Dashaway only smiled.

“Come, what’s up with you young people?” challenged the good-natured Mr.
King.

“Why,” spoke the young aviator, “when we go back home, and you have put
that promised quietus on that rascal Vernon, we are going to Elmer’s
father and have him build for us a magnificent aeroplane that will beat
anything ever before constructed.”

“And the purpose?” inquired old Grimshaw, with a hopeful twinkle in his
eye.

“Why,” replied Dave, “our idea is to get up a great international race
around the globe.”

“That’s it,” jubilated the veteran airman. “I knew it would be something
grand and original.”

“Canada, Alaska, Siberia, Russia—finishing where we began,” explained
Dave Dashaway.

“Can it be done?”

“I think so.”

“But the danger——”

“There was danger in crossing the mighty Atlantic.”

“I know that. But to go around the world. You will meet all sort of
strange people and get in many a tight situation, and——”

“But Dave Dashaway can do it, trust him,” said Mr. Dale, proudly. “He is
the son of his father—you can trust him.”

“Oh, you can’t beat Dave,” cried Hiram. “His enemies have tried it, and
failed, every time.”

So we leave our young airmen, full of ardor and hope, with their
wonderful plans. How the same were carried out in a most remarkable
aviation exploit, will be told in a succeeding volume, to be entitled,
“Dave Dashaway Around the World; Or, A Young Yankee Aviator Among Many
Nations.”

“Only one Dave Dashaway in this world,” said Hiram, to young Brackett.

“The best friend I ever had!” murmured the other. “One boy in a
million!”

“Right you are!”

                                THE END

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                            Transcriber's Notes

    Italicized phrases are presented by surrounding the text with
    _underscores_. Boldface phrases are presented by surrounding the
    text with =equal= signs. Small capitals have been rendered in full
    capitals.

    Punctuation has been standardized. Minor spelling and typographic
    errors have been corrected silently, except as noted below.

    "some one" and "someone" are used interchangeably throughout the
    book, and all occurrences have been left as printed.

    On the second page (unnumbered), "12" added before "mo. Cloth.
    Illustrated."

    "Imposter" left as is on page 6 (instead of being changed to
    "impostor") as it was sometimes spelled "imposter" in the time
    period.

    Three instances of "stop cock" changed to "stop-cock" to be
    internally consistent and consistent with contemporary (1910's)
    usage.

    Several instances of "employe" left as is, as it appears that way
    three times in the book and was written that way occasionally in the
    time period.

    The word "distinguished" has been changed to "extinguished" on page
    114.

    On page 117, "a-way" has been left as is, as it appears in dialectic
    speech.

    On page 118, "bulge" has been changed to "budge", as "bulge" doesn't
    make sense, even as dialect.

    One sentence near the bottom of page 134 ("Dave led the way to a
    thick copse. The woman") was in the text twice (several paragraphs
    apart), and the first instance has been removed.

    On page 202, "Rodger" has been changed to "Roger" to be consistent
    with other usage in the book.