“You’re no stranger,” declared Hiram. “I seem to have known you a long time, although I’ve only been with you a couple of hours. I guess it’s because you’re square and honest. Go ahead, and good luck to you!”
The girl waved her thin little hand to Hiram until they were out of sight. The young aviator then busied himself about the machine. He was so engrossed in his task that he was not conscious of the flight of time, when Bruce Beresford came running into sight with a radiant face.
“It’s all right,” he proclaimed. “They’ve taken in little Lois, just as if she was an own child. The matron kissed her, and cried over her bruises. Of course I didn’t tell them anything about Mr. Dawson by name. I’ve agreed to send the home ten dollars each month as soon as I get work. Oh, what a relief! and how easy I can do it,” and the speaker threw out his arms with a gesture that seemed to say he was ready for the hardest work in the world if he could find it.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” said Hiram. “What’s the matter with your coming with me? I’ve got a famous chum, and I’m sure he’ll take to you. I’m certain, too, he can get you a place somewhere.”
“You’re awful kind,” responded Bruce, “but I would like to stay around Benham here until I see how Lois gets on. She might miss me. Dawson might trace us. I can get some odd jobs around town for a few weeks, I am sure. Then, soon as I know Lois is safe and contented, I’ll branch out in a bigger city.”
“Well, you’ve got the right spirit,” encouraged Hiram. “I want you to keep trace of us. Maybe we can help you out. You’ll always be able to locate us through this address,” and Hiram gave his new friend a card, naming the present headquarters of himself and Dave. He could see the tears of gratitude and gladness shining in the eyes of Bruce as he sailed aloft.
“Glad I helped him,” soliloquized Hiram. “Poor fellow! And that tiny little midget of a sister! And that big, mean old Dawson! I hope he got a good soaking! Hope I run across this Beresford boy again, too. He’s the right sort!”
The young airman had put the Scout away in the hangar in good order, after a careful clean up, and was ready to sit down on the bench out in the open air, when Dave put in an appearance. Hiram was too full of his recent adventure to postpone its recital. His chum listened with interest to its details. Hiram, however, made no mention of his “target practice.”
“There’s something here to interest you,” observed Dave, drawing a bulky envelope from his pocket. “It’s the details of the Chicago contest meet, that followed the invitation from the committee,” and Hiram looked at the advertising literature with interest.
“Why, Dave,” he cried, glancing over the list of prizes offered, and the programme outlined for a three days’ meet, “you surely won’t let this slip by?”