CHAPTER XI
A STRANGE RACE
Dave, busying himself about the Ariel inside the hangar, had caught an echo of the shot outside the fence and the shouts accompanying it. There was generally considerable commotion about the grounds, however, and he paid no particular attention to these demonstrations.
Even the sound of the exhaust of the Scout did not suggest anything out of the ordinary. It was only when a loud cry sounded directly beyond the open doors of the hangar, that the young airman was aroused.
“Oh, Mr. Dashaway!” gasped out a startling voice—“come here! come, quick!”
Dave looked up to discern Rohan, his newly employed watchman. The latter was limping towards the hangar. The light from the inside shone on his face, showing excitement, and a sort of terror.
“Why, Dennis, what is the matter?” inquired Dave, anxiously.
“Your partner, Dobbs—the Scout!” stammered the watchman, so excited that he could scarcely speak. “Hear it? See it? And here are the police!”
Dave hurried out. His first swift glance showed that the Scout was nowhere near. The gathering lake haze formed its usual veil between the ground lights and the upper clear area. A look in that direction told nothing.