Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator: or, In the Clouds for Fame and Fortune
TextCHAPTER VI
CADMUS
“Look out!” shouted Dave suddenly.
In his eagerness to recover his horse, the man who had just come up to the scene of the capture ran directly up to the animal to promptly retreat in some dismay.
Without trying to break away from Dave the horse began to move rapidly in a half circle, using tail, rear hoofs and body as a menace against the approach of its master. Dave gave the animal another cookie, which quieted it down. However, the horse kept a constant eye on the man, who did not venture to approach any nearer.
“Well, well, well,” laughed the man in a comical way, “this is a new stunt for Cadmus. Why, I thought we were friends, old fellow,” he added, addressing the horse.
“Did he run away from you?” inquired Dave.
“First chance he got – and the only one, so far.”
“How is that?” asked Dave curiously.
“He was raised a pet.”
“Anybody can see that.”
“Never heard of Cadmus?”
“Not until you called him that,” replied Dave.
“Well, Cadmus is a famous racer.”
“He looks it.”
“Oh, he’s made his name. Isn’t that so, beauty?”
“Take care,” again warned Dave. “Cadmus is still a little nervous.”
In fact the horse had resented any nearer approach of its master. Dave almost fancied that the intelligent animal pressed up close to himself, as if asking protection.
“Thinks he’s going to get the whip for breaking the rules,” said the man. “I’ll discipline him on feed, but I never strike one of my horses. I say, youngster, you’ve done me an immense favor. Will you carry it a little farther?”
“I’ll try,” replied Dave willingly.
“If you was going my way” – and the speaker nudged his shoulder down the road in the direction from which he had just come.
“Oh, any way suits me,” responded Dave quickly.
“Then I wish you would lead the horse till we get to the car. Cadmus seems to have taken quite a fancy to you.”
“He belongs in a car?” asked Dave, a little vaguely.
“Why, yes,” replied the man, with a stare at Dave as if he supposed he knew that. “We’re taking Cadmus to Brompton. They switched us in the yards, and some one left the car door open, and Cadmus made his break.”
“Oh, I understand now,” said Dave quickly, and then an eager thought came into his mind, as he wondered if this lucky incident might lead to his finding a way out of Brookville unnoticed.
The last cookie in Dave’s hands kept Cadmus quiet and friendly until they reached the railroad yards. The man piloted the way among a network of tracks, and finally along a string of freight cars standing beside a planked roadway.
“Here we are,” he reported.
Dave noticed that the man had halted beside a light colored car bearing the words: “Palace Horse Car.” A small colored boy dressed in a horse jockey’s jacket, and a big husky fellow who looked like the hostler, were tilting a slanting platform up to the big door at one end of the car.
It took some persuasion to get Cadmus to go up this cleated platform, but it was finally accomplished. Dave looked around the car with some admiration.
“It deserves its name, ‘Palace’, doesn’t it,” he asked of the owner of the horse, who seemed greatly relieved to find the animal housed once more safe and sound.
“You ought to see the accommodations we have in a trip across the continent,” returned the horseman. “This is nothing to it.”
“This is pretty fine, to my way of thinking,” declared Dave.
Fully one half of the car was given up to Cadmus. The box stall at one end was padded and cushioned to guard against jarring. The feed box was of porcelain, and the light blanket they put on Cadmus was as fine as a silk bedquilt.
“Come in, youngster,” invited the horseman, when he had seen that Cadmus was attended to properly.
He led Dave into a partitioned-off apartment, comfortable as a boudoir in the Pullman sleeper. There was a couch, a table and plush covered easy chairs. Into one of the chairs Dave sank.
“I calculated I’d have had some trouble in getting that horse if you hadn’t come along,” asserted the man.
“Oh, when Cadmus got through playing he would have been docile enough,” suggested Dave.
“And made me miss railroad connections and a big race to-morrow,” added the horseman. “See, here,” and he glanced into a pocket book he had taken out, and then drew a long slim book and a fountain pen from another pocket, “what’s your name?”
“Why,” hesitated Dave, “what do you want to know for?”
“I want to give you a check.”
“What for?”
“To fix you out for your trouble.”
“I wouldn’t know where to cash it,” declared Dave. “Besides, if you want to fix me out, as you call it, there’s another way that would please me better.”
“Just name it, youngster.”
“This car goes to Brompton you told me, I think?”
“Yes, we start in about an hour.”
“Well, sir,” observed Dave, “if you will give me a free ride that far, I will consider that you have paid me a hundred times over for the little I’ve done for you.”
“Little you’ve done for me?” cried the horseman. “I suppose you don’t consider that Cadmus is just about worth his weight in gold to me. Now, see here,” and the man took the pocket book out again and drew forth two bills. “There’s all the currency I’ve got with me – two fives. You’ll take them.”
“No, sir,” began Dave.
“You’ll take them, I said,” repeated the man in a forceful way. “And you’ll give me your name and address, and promise that if ever you need a friend you’ll send word to Amos Baker. Here’s my card.”
Money and card were thrust on Dave in spite of himself.
“My name is Dave Dashaway,” he said, “but I have no address, and don’t know how soon I may have.”
“Oh, is that so?” observed the horseman, eyeing his companion curiously.
“Yes, sir. The truth is I’m leaving home in a hurry – but that cannot interest you.”
“Yes, it will,” echoed the horseman. “Tell us all about it, lad. Maybe I can give you some advice that will help you out.”
Dave told his story, and his auditor listened to it with great attention.
“I like your pluck, and your plan to get to Fairfield is all right,” said the horseman. “We’ll be at Brompton in three hours. You’ve now got money enough to carry you to Fairfield and a good deal farther. Your going to Brompton is carrying you directly out of your route, you can ride as far as that, though, get off there and take the first train for Fairfield, see?”
“I shall never forget all your kindness, Mr. Baker,” said Dave gratefully.
Just as a locomotive hitched onto the train of which the stock car was a part, Mr. Baker called in the colored boy. He gave him some orders, and in a few minutes quite a repast was spread out on the table from several hampers in the car.
The train reached Brompton after midnight. Mr. Baker shook hands heartily with Dave.
“I reckon nobody will be hanging around looking for you at this time of night,” he observed. “Good luck to you, youngster. If you have any further trouble with that pesky guardian of yours, drop me a line and I’ll appear on the scene. Write occasionally, anyhow. I’ll be glad to hear how you are getting along. If some mean people don’t interfere, it will be in a good way, for you’re the right kind of a boy to make a success, Dave Dashaway, and Amos Baker says it.”
The freight train had stopped at a crossing, and as it moved on Dave had to walk down the tracks nearly one-half a mile to reach the railroad depot.
Dave trudged on hopefully to meet his first experience in a big city.
CHAPTER VII
ROBBED
“Well that’s the hardest part of it over and done with,” declared Dave, as he walked into the railroad depot at Brompton.
The youth felt pretty much encouraged. His foot had mended, he had earned ten dollars, and had won a good friend. He had got safely away from Brookville by a route his pursuers would never suspect him of taking.
“More than all, best of all,” spoke Dave with longing and satisfaction, “I’m well started for Fairfield and the airships.”
Dave found the depot almost deserted. A few travelers were nodding on the benches in the passengers room, waiting for a late local train going north. The ticket office was closed, but the depot policeman was on duty. Dave approached this official.
“What about a train for Fairfield?” he spoke.
“Last one gone two hours ago.”
“When is the next train?”
“8:15 A. M.”
Dave was disappointed. That was nearly a third of a day ahead. It would be a long wait, but he decided to make the best of it. He selected a snug seat in a dark corner and began to nod before he was aware of it.
“Here, rout out,” sounded a gruff voice in his ear, and he was shaken rudely.
“Oh – yes, I was asleep,” mumbled Dave, recognizing the depot policeman.
“Going to close up. No more trains either way to-night,” he said.
“But I’m waiting for the Fairfield train.”
“Can’t do it here. Against the rules. Come back in the morning.”
“Where can I go?”
“Why, to a hotel, of course. There’s lots of them within a stone’s throw.”
Dave got to his feet and out of the depot. He had unexpectedly received a great deal more money than it would take to get him to Fairfield. He treasured his little hoard, though. The idea of saving the price of a night’s lodging had pleased him.
“What do I care for a bed,” he told himself as he came out of the depot into the starry night. “I can sleep anywhere,” and Dave made for the deep entrance to a store and sat down upon its step. Almost instantly, however, a policeman in uniform stepped out of the deep shadow of a neighboring doorway, on the lookout for stragglers.
“You’ll have to move on, sonny,” he said.
“All right,” assented Dave with a comical smile. “I wouldn’t hurt those iron steps, though.”
Dave walked on till he came to a big building. It bore the sign: “Empire Hotel.” Glancing in at the lobby with its elegant appointments Dave shrugged his shoulders and walked on.
“That’s too rich for my blood, even if I do feel like a millionaire,” he smiled. “Something more modest for me.”
Finally Dave reached a respectable appearing hotel that looked second class and cheap. He entered the lobby and went up to the clerk’s desk.
“How much do you charge for a night’s lodging?” he asked.
“Fifty cents.”
“I guess I’ll stay, then.”
“Got any baggage?”
“No, sir.”
“Any references?”
“I should say not!” Dave told himself, and he walked away when the clerk had explained that they never took in transients without baggage or an introduction from a responsible party.
Dave sauntered about leisurely now. He made up his mind to walk about all night. At the end of an hour, however, the unfamiliar stone pavements began to remind him of his weak ankle. He noticed an illuminated sign running out from a shabby looking building. It read: “Rooms – twenty-five and fifty cents.”
“That sounds all right,” reflected Dave, and he ascended a stairway lighted up by a smoking oil lamp at its top.
A drowsy, sleepy-eyed young man was lounging in a broken chair behind a desk. At its side were a lot of pigeon holes, and some holding keys.
“I want to stay here all night,” stated Dave.
“No one’s hindering you, is there?” observed the young man. “What price?”
“Twenty-five cents.”
The young man ran his eye over a portion of the pigeon holes and announced:
“Single rooms at that price all gone.”
“And the best room is fifty cents?”
“You’ve got it.”
“That’s too much.”
“Better go to Tom’s Lodging House,” sneered the fellow. “You’ll find a fine ten-cent crowd there, if that’s your style. Tell you, if you don’t mind sharing a room with a boy like yourself I can accommodate you.”
“Two beds?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Pay it.”
Dave drew out his money. The young man grumbled at having to change a five dollar but that was soon got through with. Then he handed Dave a key with an iron strip to it, that prevented lodgers from putting it in their pockets and forgetting to return it.
“Room 58, fourth floor,” advised the young man, and lounged back into his chair again. “Be sure to put out your light when you go to bed.”
Dave climbed up two more flights of rickety stairs. The air of the place was close. One floor was divided up into as many as a hundred little bunks, and the snoring was disturbing.
“I wish I hadn’t come here,” thought Dave, but he kept on to the fourth floor, made out 58 on a door, and unlocked it and entered a room with one window.
The light in the hall showed a lamp on a table. There were two narrow beds in the room, and they did not look particularly uncomfortable. When he lighted the lamp, Dave glanced over at the cot that was occupied.
Near it was a chair, and over this hung some shabby garments. Dave had a plain view of the sleeping inmate of the bed, and he did not like the face at all. It had a red scar on one cheek, the hair was straggling and untidy, and, taken altogether, the boy made Dave think of a crowd of young roughs who had run up against him and tried to provoke him into a quarrel in his early midnight wanderings.
Dave opened the window of the room to let in fresh air, then he undressed. He drew a chair up against his bed and folded his clothes across it. Then he blew out the light.
“Feels good to stretch out human like once more, sure enough,” said Dave contentedly.
Then he groped about on the chair until he found his coat and drew out the pocket book belonging to Robert King, Aviator.
“I want to make sure of that,” he mused. “My own money, too. I’ll quietly put it all in the pocket book and slip it under my pillow. Then no one can play any tricks on me without waking me up.”
Dave worked in the dark. He fished out the bills from his pocket. Then he got hold of the silver change he had received down stairs. It was composed mainly of dimes and nickles. Just as he was striving noiselessly to transfer the handful to the pocket book, bang! rattle! tap! went half a dozen rolling nickles out of his hand.
“Hello, what’s that?” challenged a sharp suspicious voice, and Dave knew that the noise made by the falling coins had awakened the sleeper in the other bed.
Dave was bound to answer. He slipped the pocket book under his pillow, and held tightly the coins remaining in his hand to prevent them from jingling together.
“It’s me,” he replied.
“Who’s me?”
“Roomer – just come in.”
“You’re a boy, aren’t you?”
“Like yourself.”
“What’s your name?”
“I did not register,” replied Dave evasively.
“Humph! don’t want to be sociable, eh? Well, shut up, then.”
With a grunt the occupant of the other cot seemed to flounce over and resume his slumbers. Dave did not like the sound of his voice any better than he had the look of his face. He hoped the fellow had not heard the coins drop on the floor. Dave reached out cautiously, groped about, managed to locate several nickels, placed these noiselessly in the pocket book, and was glad that things had quieted down.
Somehow he felt disturbed and uneasy. He knew that the place was second class, and probably housed a good many rough characters. He made up his mind that he would keep awake until daylight, then go back to the railroad depot. He heard two and then three o’clock strike from some neighboring bell tower. By four o’clock he was fast asleep.
In a dreamy sort of a daze, his next waking action was lying with his eyes closed and counting seven strokes of a bell.
“Oh, dear, this won’t do at all,” cried Dave, leaping from the bed to the floor. “Why, I’ll miss the train to Fairfield if I don’t move sharp. Hello – hello!”
Dave came to a standstill, posed like a statue. He stared at the chair by the side of the bed. His clothes were gone!
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. In their stead, lying scattered carelessly on the floor, were the clothes belonging to his boy room mate.
In a second a dreadful flash of dismay and fear came to Dave’s mind. He sprang at the bed he had just left and lifted the pillow quickly.
“Gone! All gone!” he gasped turning cold all over. “I’ve been robbed!”
CHAPTER VIII
A STARTLING SURPRISE
Dave ran to the door, his heart sinking, and alive with the keenest excitement. Arrived there, he checked himself. He realized that he could not rush out in the shape he was in.
“I can’t do it!” he cried resentfully, as his eyes fell upon the clothes left in place of his own. “Oh, this is terrible!”
A little faint and a good deal dismayed, the youth sat down on the edge of his bed to get a better grasp of the situation. He saw now that he was probably too late to overtake the thief. His eyes fell upon two nickels lying on the floor near the cot. These had been a sort of a guide to the robber, who must have heard them jangle to the floor when Dave accidentally dropped them.
“That fellow must be a real bad one,” mused Dave. “He probably pretended to be asleep all the time, and was watching me! Anyhow, he has managed to get hold of everything I had. The worst of it is the watch and the money and the medal belonging to Mr. King are gone too. The thief may have been gone from here for hours, for all I know. I’m in a bad fix.”
Dave felt very rueful. He had not come up against much of the wickedness of the world before this. He blamed himself for not guarding his possessions more carefully, for coming to the lodging house at all.
“There’s nothing for it but to put on these clothes,” he decided at last, with a sigh. “I don’t suppose it will do any good to tell the lodging house keeper about the thief, and in a big, strange city there is little chance of my running him down.”
The clothes of the boy who had robbed Dave very nearly fitted him. Dave’s own attire had been threadbare in spots, but it had been clean. Somehow, Dave could not repress a feeling of repugnance as he put on the clothes. The shoes pinched, being short and narrow, but he managed to get them on.
Dave went down stairs and into the office on the second floor of the building. A lot of loungers were sitting around on benches and a new clerk was behind the desk.
“Is the young man here who was on duty last night?” inquired Dave, returning the room key.
“I just relieved him,” was the reply. “He’s gone home to sleep.”
“He gave me room 58,” went on Dave. “There was a boy in one of the beds. These clothes are his.”
“Hey?” ejaculated the man, with a stare.
“Yes, sir. He’s taken mine. I shouldn’t think you would allow such characters in here.”
The man shrugged his shoulders indifferently. He pointed to a sign behind the desk. It informed roomers that the house was not responsible for thefts.
“If you had anything valuable in your clothes,” advised the man, “you should have left it in our safe.”
The speaker pointed to a box with a padlock behind him. Dave decided that he could place little reliance in either the man or his strong box.
“I did lose something valuable,” he cried, smarting under his lost.
“Did, eh?”
“Yes, sir – fifty dollars in money, beside other valuables.”
“That so?” smiled the man incredulously. “Know the thief?”
“I do. Don’t I tell you that he slept in the same room with me?”
“Know him again?”
“I am sure I would.”
“Can you describe him?”
“Yes, he had a scar on one cheek.”
“Better put the police on his track, then.”
“Thank you, I’ll do just that,” replied Dave with energy, starting briskly for the door under the impetus of the suggestion.
Dave hurried from the building and down the street. At a crossing he found an officer in uniform. This man directed him to the nearest station. Dave framed in his mind the most accurate description he could give of the thief.
“It hadn’t ought to be very hard to trace down a fellow with a scarred face like that,” meditated Dave. “Hello! I never thought of it before.”
With the words “Police Station” staring him in the face from the front of a grim looking brick building, Dave came to a dead halt with a shock.
It had just occurred to him that he might invite considerable risk by visiting the police. They would want to know how he came by the pocket book of Robert King. He would have to tell them the circumstances and his name. They might have received some word already from Brookville to look out for him. They might get to inquiring into his story and detain him as a runaway.
“No, it won’t do at all,” declared the boy emphatically.
He got away from the place as fast as he could, all stirred up as he found time to realize that he was still near enough to Brookville to be seen and recognized by some one who might inform on him. Dave went back to the railroad depot and consulted some maps and time tables.
He found that Fairfield was not on the direct line, and that the indirect route covered about sixty miles. If he could go back past Brookville in the other direction it would be ten miles less. Across country on foot, as nearly as he could make it out, on air line route it was not over thirty-five miles.
“Why, I could walk it in a day,” thought Dave – “and I’ll do it!”
He had just ten cents in his pocket – the two nickels the thief had disdained to pick up. He had made up his mind that it would be a waste of time to try and hunt up the boy who had robbed him. In the first place, Dave was unfamiliar with the city. The thief had probably got away from it with his booty as fast as he could.
Dave walked across the city. Near its limits he went into a bakery and invested the ten cents in crackers and buns. The shoes he wore began to hurt his feet. After a brief lunch he struck off on a smooth country road.
“It’s my duty to reach Fairfield and find this Mr. King,” he decided. “I suppose he values that medal very highly. He is in better shape than I am to start a search for the thief or the plunder.”
A little after noon Dave sat down by a little stream and took off his shoes. They had hurt him terribly the last mile he had traveled. He found his feet blistered and swollen, bathed them in the cool water, and when he resumed his tramp walked barefooted, carrying the shoes strung over his shoulder.
Shortly afterwards Dave reached a little village. As he passed a cobbler’s shop he went in and asked the man in charge if he would exchange his shoes for anything he could wear. The shoemaker went over a lot of stock uncalled for, but there was nothing among them that would fit Dave. Finally he made