Dave Dashaway and His Hydroplane Part 27

Dave left the camp, as they called it, about noon. He had some difficulty in getting from the island to the mainland, as the soil was soggy and at places two feet deep with water. He accomplished the task, however, with only a slight wetting.

The young aviator had been given the address, of one of Mr. Price's men at Ironton. He visited his office, but found him absent for the day. Then he wired his progress to the Interstate people and told them if necessary to reach, him at the Northern Hotel.

Dave went to the hotel and made arrangement with the clerk as to mail and telegrams. He decided to remain in the vicinity of Ironton till he got in touch with the revenue officer's agent there. He was just leaving the hotel when one placed a hand on his shoulder, with the friendly words:

"Why, h.e.l.lo, Dashaway."

Dave turned quickly, startled for a moment. Then his face broke into smiles of warm welcome.

"Mr. Alden," he said, and returned the friendly hand clasp of his companion.

The chance meeting took Dave's mind back instantly to a most pleasant period of his experience since leaving his guardian's home at Brookville.

It was Mr. Alden, the moving picture man, who had given Dave what might be called his first start in business life. Dave had posed for the "movies," and later he and Mr. King had taken a prominent part in some motion pictures bringing in the monoplane, the Aegis.

"I didn't expect to see you way up here, Dashaway," spoke Mr. Alden.

"How are you getting along?"

"First cla.s.s, thanks to the friendly help you gave me in the first place," responded the young aviator.

"I'm glad of that. Come up to my room and tell me all about it, Dashaway. Now then, for a talk over old times," resumed the moving picture man, as they were comfortably seated in his room at the hotel.

Dave parried a good many questions. He did not exactly wish to tell Mr. Alden about his business, which in the present case was also that of his employers. He managed to lead Mr. Alden to talk of his own affairs.

"Oh, I've had the actors up here on a lot of marine scenarios,"

explained the moving picture man. "They went away only this morning. We've been picturing 'The Island Hermit of Lake Superior,'

'Iron Miners' Revenge,' 'Flight Across the Border,' and 'The Mystery of the Pineries.' Great scenery around here for fittings, you see. There are some of my key negatives on the table there, look them over."

Dave examined some of the films with interest. The former kindness of Mr. Alden and his party had left a warm spot in the heart of the young aviator for anything concerning the movies.

"There's some plain slides we made to catch the costumes and figures," added Mr. Alden, pointing to a rack containing about a dozen gla.s.s negatives.

Dave began holding them up to the light in turn. He had inspected perhaps one half of them, when he somewhat startled the moving picture man with a sharp sudden exclamation.

"Mr. Alden," he asked quite excitedly, "where did you take that slide?"

CHAPTER XVIII

ON DESERT ISLAND

The young aviator might well ask the question he put to the moving picture man, for the negative in Dave's hand showed plainly the face and figure of Jerry Dawson.

There could be no mistake. The boy who had run away with the Drifter had features strongly marked and not readily forgotten. The picture had been taken in the open street. Jerry was standing there talking to a Chinaman.

"Some scene you know, Dashaway?" asked Mr. Alden.

"No, somebody I know--and am very anxious to find," replied Dave.

"So? Let me have a look at it."

Dave handed the plate to the moving picture man, who slanted it against the light and nodded intelligently.

"Oh, that?" he said. "Yes, I remember all about it."

"Where did you take it, Mr. Alden?" pressed Dave.

"At Anseton. There's a sort of foreign quarter there, and I was catching up some street scenes. It was the Chinaman I shot. Wanted the costume, you know."

"When was that?" asked Dave.

"Yesterday morning."

Dave asked a score of questions. The moving picture man saw that Dave had some important motive in his inquiries. He did not ask what it was, and was patient and careful in his replies.

Dave left Mr. Alden feeling that he had learned a good deal. The presence of Jerry Dawson in Anseton, and that, too, with a Chinaman, verified many of the theories of the young aviator. Dave lost no time in getting to a telegraph office, to send a dispatch that would reach Mr. Price. It told briefly of the progress of the Monarch II and of the definite clew Dave had just discovered.

That afternoon our hero hired a hand cart he saw in a blacksmith's yard labeled "For Sale." He drove it as near to the swamp island as he could, without getting stuck in the mud. Then, he called to Hiram, who put himself in wading trim. The empty gasoline cans were over to the cart by Hiram. Dave trundled them to the town, got them filled and to the island, and, returning the cart, was ready to prepare for a new night journey.

"It's less than sixty miles that we have to go, Hiram," he advised his a.s.sistant.

"Then you've found out something definite?" guessed Hiram.

"Yes, I have got a trace of Jerry Dawson."

"You don't say so!"

"I do, and I'll tell you how," and Dave recited the story of his meeting with the moving picture man.

"Why, that's just grand," commented Hiram in his exuberant way.

"You've good as run down the Drifter."

"Not quite, Hiram."

"Oh, you'll find the stolen airship. I feel it in my bones. I've felt it ever since I saw the way you took hold of this affair."

"Well, I've had good help and a splendid machine, you must remember."

"I don't go much on the help," declared Hiram modestly. "As to the Monarch II, though, I never saw such a well-behaved machine. If she does in the water what she's done in the air, she's a record breaker, sure."

The machine was put in the best possible trim. It lacked two hours of nightfall but Dave had plenty to occupy his mind. For over an hour he sat looking over maps and memoranda, and blocking out his course. He had been very explicit and painstaking in questioning the moving picture man. He had made inquiries concerning Anseton and its vicinity down to the smallest detail. From all this Dave had decided on a permanent landing place, a sort of headquarters from which he could branch out in his personal investigations in the day time and sally forth on an air hunt in the dark.

The aviators could distinctly hear a bell in some tower tolling the hour of nine as they circled a busy city that lay beyond and below, them, a blur of light. Dave at the levers kept the Monarch II at a fair height, constantly scanning an expanse to the north dotted only here and there with lights. Once past the outskirts of the city he turned due north.

"Why, h.e.l.lo!" exclaimed his companion, "we're over water!"