“Yes, indeed. I’ve done enough wickedness in the world.”
“Then clear his name of an unjust charge, so he can stand before the public the good, noble man he is.”
“I will,” declared Duske earnestly, and he did.
One week after the airship race Mr. Webb, to whom Andy had sent the old leather pocketbook by registered mail the day he recovered it, came down to the Parks camp.
“I have been too busy to come before,” he explained to Andy. “That document in the old leather pocketbook took up my time. I tell you, Nelson, it has brought brightness and comfort to two orphan children in a grand way.”
“I am very glad,” said Andy.
“I got back the two hundred dollars you left at the bank in Princeville,” continued Mr. Webb. “I have added something to it, and my attorneys have directed me to pay you what they intended to give the finder of the pocketbook—five hundred dollars.”
Andy made some demur at the largeness of the amount, but Mr. Webb was persistent, declared he was simply acting as agent for the lawyers, and Andy had to take the money.
“As to myself,” observed the gentleman, “I want to say what you must already know, Nelson—I am greatly interested in you. I wish you could suggest some way in which my means can benefit you.”
“So do I,” broke in John Parks. “The lad is a genius in the aviation line, and I want him to keep on at it.”