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Updated: May 29, 2025
A man so prone, as is my friend, to spend his time in modest admiration of the prowess of others is apt to lag behind. Miss Dashaway remains to Mr. Sims, as all else does, a retrospect and a regret. But the chief peculiarities of the old gang as they exist in the mind of Mr. Sims is the awful fate that has overwhelmed them.
"The Drifter has got to be found," resumed the manager. "It is our first perfected model, and we can hardly build its counterpart in time for full seasonal exhibitions. We think you are the man to find it, Dashaway." "Oh, Mr. Randolph," said Dave with a slight start. "I am expressing the opinion of the head men in the company here, who knew your good record.
Hiram was practicing for a flight in the Baby Racer. The two friends that rainy summer evening were interested in plans for the coming meet and aviation business generally. The arrival of the telegram once more introduces the reader to Dave Dashaway, now popularly known as the young aviator.
"Got to get back to my own quarters," declared Grimshaw. "Some other time about those pictures. Boy brought a telegram to Mr. King's hangar. It's for you, Dashaway." "For me?" inquired the lad who had first addressed the visitor. "Yes. Here it is. Mr. King's away, but if you need me for anything let me know." "I'm always needing you," replied Dave Dashaway. "I don't know what we'd do without you."
"Now, Dashaway, I don't want you to take this affair on your mind. If I fail in what I have planned, I will certainly call you into the case. I fancy, from what Hiram here has told me, that you have some important business of your own on hand." "Yes, that is quite true," replied Dave seriously. "Are you having some trouble with the Interstate people?" inquired the aviator pointedly.
He was gossiping with Sam Clark, Luke Dawson, Jackson Elder of the planing-mill, Chet Dashaway, Dave Dyer, Harry Haydock, and Ezra Stowbody, president of the Ionic bank. Ezra Stowbody was a troglodyte. He had come to Gopher Prairie in 1865. He was a distinguished bird of prey swooping thin nose, turtle mouth, thick brows, port-wine cheeks, floss of white hair, contemptuous eyes.
I did a very foolish thing in dealing with the young scamp." "You mean letting him go free?" inquired Dave. "Yes, I feared at the time that I was unwise in not punishing him, to serve as a lesson against more mischief. He acted so scared, though, he helped me get back the property he had stolen from you, he signed a confession telling that he was not the real Dave Dashaway and had imposed on Mr.
"Have you fathomed his purpose in taking the air route, Mr. Price?" asked the factory manager. "Most certainly." "I am puzzled to guess what it may be." "Why, it's plain as the nose on your face," said the officer bluntly. "How is that?" "You know that this man, Ridgely, is a professional smuggler?" "So Dashaway has told me." "We drove him from one point on the border.
"That is just the point you've outdone some of the veterans in the service and jumped to a high place in a bound. That's why we trust you." "I don't know about what you propose, though," said Dave, sobering down. "Yes, it's a pretty hard task to set. We're all at sea." "So am I," admitted Dave. "Put those keen wits of yours at work, Dashaway," urged the manager encouragingly.
"What's the trouble, Dashaway?" he asked. "Why, Mr. Grimshaw?" inquired Dave, wishing to evade direct questioning. "You seem bothered about something, I see." "Well, as a matter of fact, I am," confessed Dave. "What is it?" "I'm trying to find a way to get to Kewaukee," explained Dave.
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