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Updated: June 21, 2025
Tom chuckled as he grabbed a towel and dried himself off. The beefsteak, with crisp golden-brown French fried potatoes, was already at hand on Chow's lunch cart. Tom ate with a hearty appetite and the stout chef went off, secretly plotting to arrange the second half of his prescription. When he reached the galley, Chow plucked the wall phone off its hook and called Bud at an airfield hangar.
"But I don't understand how they got in. The hangar was well guarded all night." "Some of your men might have been bribed," suggested Ned. "Yes, that is so," admitted Tom, and, later, he learned that such had been the case.
The enclosed space, bounded to east and west by the barrier which swung toward and touched the canyon, had all been cleared, save for a few palms and fern-trees left for shade. Beside drying-frames for fish and game and a well-smoothed plaza for public assemblies and the giving of the Law, it now contained Stern's permanent hangar.
Don't beat the door down!" Rawlins fairly burst into the room. "Major Cowan's compliments, sir, and he directs you to report to the squadron at once." "Good heavens! At this hour? What's up, Rawlins?" Rawlins smiled expansively. "Orders for the front, sir. They're taking down the hangar tents now, and trucks will be here in the next hour for baggage and equipment.
If he had been own father to the lads, Mr. King could not have greeted them more affectionately. "You've done us all proud, Dashaway," he declared. "Got a telegram from the Interstate folks, and the noon paper. The paper has given you two columns. This way. A friend waiting to see you." Mr. King pushed Dave across the little room in the hangar he used as an office.
"That's it exactly. Bad news, Dashaway, I'm sorry to say," announced the aviator in a very serious tone. The aviator led the way back to the Aegis hangar. Dave saw that Mr. King was not inclined to explain any further until they were off the public course, so he asked no more questions, for the present. Dave had a good deal to tell himself. His mind had been full of it all day.
Craig had jumped from the car, and together the two went into the hangar, while I followed. They talked in low tones, but as nearly as I could make out Kennedy was hiring a hydro-aeroplane for to- morrow with as much nonchalance as if it had been a taxicab. As Kennedy and his acquaintance, Sprague, came to terms, my eye fell on a peculiar gun set up in a corner.
There seemed no way out; and then Chester cried: "An aeroplane hangar!" It was true. Fortune had guided their footsteps to possibly the only place in the whole Austrian camp where there was a chance of escape. Hal wasted no time. Rapidly he mounted the hangar, the others following him closely. The lad uttered a short prayer as he climbed and then gave a great sigh of relief.
He wanted to implore Bland to turn and go back, but he did not know how long the gasoline would last, and he was afraid they might be compelled to land in some spot a long way from his rock hangar. He said nothing, therefore, but strove to squeeze what bliss remained for him in the next minutes, distressingly few though they were.
There is a picturesque story that when Eberhard lay on his death-bed his brother, instead of watching by his side, took the then completed airship from its hangar, and drove it over and around the house that the last sounds to reach the ears of his faithful ally might be the roar of the propellers in the air the grand pæan of victory.
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