“Look there,” was the response, and the boy parted some bushes. Hiram uttered a wondering and a pitying cry, as he looked over the shoulder of his guide and saw a little girl, not more than four years of age. She was lying asleep on the dry grass, her head pillowed on a coat, evidently belonging to the lad, her brother. Her attire was as torn and threadbare as his own. Her face showed tear stains and exhaustion.
“Oh, dear! Dear!” murmured the pitying Hiram at the sight of such forlorn misery.
“If you don’t think I’m telling you the truth, just look there!” cried the lad brokenly, and he leaned over and gently pulled loose the poor thin dress covering the child. Across her shoulders were half a dozen dark welts.
“That man over there did that,” sobbed the barefooted boy. “Wouldn’t you run away for that? Wouldn’t you want to hit that mean man over yonder, if he treated a sister of yours that way?”
Hiram Dobbs fired up in a flash. He ran forward and shook his fist at the man in view. Then he looked in the direction of the town. The messenger sent thither was out of sight. Hiram cooled down.
“That fellow will soon be back with the officers of the law,” he said. “We mustn’t lose any time, I suppose. Do you know what that is?” he questioned his companion, pointing to the Scout.
“It’s an airship; isn’t it?” asked the boy. “I’ve seen one or two of them before.”
“Yes, it’s a biplane,” explained Hiram. “There’s a second seat in it, but it can’t carry a very heavy load, but I am sure, though, it will hold you and your sister. Pick up that poor little thing and I’ll show you how to get aboard. You’re not afraid?” he questioned.
“Me? No. I’d jump aboard a balloon if it would get little Lois safe out of the clutches of old Martin Dawson!” cried the lad.
The little girl stirred and moaned, as her brother lifted her in his arms. Hiram piloted him with his burden to the side of the Scout. He helped him step over the controls, eased him back into the seat and strapped him in, the little one in his lap.