“Due west—and no tricks!” the man had ordered who had insisted upon being a free passenger aboard the Scout.
Hiram Dobbs was not frightened. He was simply startled. Most boys would have been unnerved at the leveled weapon of a man who looked so very dangerous. Momentarily taken off his balance, the young airman obeyed the menacing mandate given.
“In case you should think of cutting up any capers,” was spoken next into his ear, “let me tell you I am a desperate man.”
It was humiliating to Hiram, now he had got his second breath, to submit to the dictation of a stranger, and he an intruder, too. Hiram’s natural disposition urged him instantly to drive the machine back to earth. Then common sense assured him that it would be at a risk. He really believed his passenger would shoot. Hiram was a quick thinker. He summed up the situation this way: the fellow aboard the Scout was a criminal, a fugitive pursued by the police. His only way of evading them was by the air route. A spice of reckless love of excitement came into the thoughts of Hiram. His passenger was watching him closely.
“All right, I’ll see the end of the adventure,” resolved Hiram, and the next minute the land mist shut out all further view of the International grounds.
“Those officers will never take me alive again,” spoke his passenger. “If they get the two of us it will be two dead ones, mind you, that.”
“My! but you’re a wicked one, aren’t you now?” observed Hiram in a tone of raillery.
“Don’t you talk too bold, youngster—it mightn’t be healthy for you,” growled the other. “You obey my orders and you shan’t want a reward.”
“I don’t want money for helping a criminal to escape,” retorted Hiram spicily—“which I take you to be.”
“We all have our special business to attend to,” coolly announced the man. “Yours is running an airship. Mine is picking up what careless people don’t watch close enough. We’ll both be in the papers to-morrow. It will make a good story, on your part. That will help, you see?”