“That will be fine,” said Hiram, and just at dusk, after their evening meal, he ran the Scout out of the hangar near the high fence surrounding the grounds, and busied himself seeing that the machine was in perfect trim for the flight.
Dave was similarly employed with the Ariel, inside the hangar. He was ready to start out, but glancing at his watch and discovering that Rohan would be due on his night duty within a few minutes, he decided to await his arrival to give him some instructions.
“She’s in prime trim,” voiced his young assistant outside, as he climbed into the pilot seat and ran his hand over the various wheels, levers and buttons, to see that everything was in order. “Why doesn’t Dave come?” and he was about to give a customary signal whistle when he exclaimed with a start “Hello! what’s that, now?”
It was a shot, just outside the fence, and it was followed by shouts. Then there was a scraping sound on the surface of the outside of the boards.
“I declare!” cried Hiram, as a human head bobbed into view over the top of the fence. There was another shot. “Hi, you! what’s up?” challenged Hiram.
In a great hurry, the owner of the head pulled himself into view. He dropped to the inside, stumbled, recovered himself and then glared all about him. His glance lit on the machine and then on its pilot.
Whoever he was, whatever his purposes, the sight of the outfit seemed suddenly to infuse him with an idea. He gave the machine a push, sent it spinning ahead, ran around to its side and leaping up began climbing over the planes.
“Here! here!” shouted the astonished Hiram, “get off there. You’ll smash things.”
“Start her up,” ordered the intruder, “do it quick, without a word, or—”
The speaker must have known something about flying machines, for with a dexterous move he landed in the cockpit. As he did so, he completed his menacing words by holding a pistol close to the head of the startled Hiram Dobbs.