“Hello! that was my gun—I’d know its sound anywhere, I think.”
“Then something is wrong,” instantly decided Dave, quite stirred up. “I see nothing of the airship—”
“No,” shouted the farmer, “but there’s a fire!”
The moment he got beyond the barn, Dave also saw the smoke and flames.
“My haystacks!” cried the farmer.
“The Ariel!” murmured Dave. “And there is the biplane Hiram saw. Mr. Rudd, there’s something wrong going on!” but the farmer was speeding towards the central scene of action. Dave broke into a run. He out-distanced his companion.
The stranger airship was now high up in the air, and heading due west. Dave could not make out those on board. He fancied there were two in the machine.
“Hiram! Hiram!” he shouted, and strained his gaze to try and locate the Ariel. A sudden flurry of wind lifted the smoke. Dave fancied he saw his machine. It was in the midst of the stacks and seemed doomed. Down a fire-fringed pathway he darted, however. Then, more by the sense of feeling than seeing, he came up against his sky-craft.
It was heroic work, for the heat was blistering, the smoke and cinders blinding. Dave discerned that the Ariel was wedged into the edge of a stack. He drew it back, whirled it about heading a new way, and bore it along with a strong push.
He gave a great breath of relief as it wheeled free of the last stack. He fairly reeled the last few yards of progress. Free of the fire, he held to the tail of the machine for support. Dave was exhausted, almost overcome with the ordeal he had gone through. His leather suit, however, had saved him from being badly burned. As it was, his hair was singed and his face and hands red and blistered.