“Quick, Dobbs,” he spoke hurriedly, “where is Dashaway?”
“Dave isn’t around. Did you want to see him? He’s off on a practice flight.”
“How long since?”
“About an hour ago.”
Borden looked disappointed and dismayed. He rubbed his chin in perplexity. Then he asked:
“Do you know where he is?”
“I think I do,” answered Hiram. “He usually goes to the sand dunes about thirty miles down the lake shore.”
“Got your machine, the Scout, handy here?” asked Borden, with increasing urgency.
“Oh, yes—why, Mr. Borden?”
“Then don’t delay a minute,” directed the former tramp, earnestly. “Find Dashaway as speedily as you can. Tell him I came to you. Warn him to get back here, and stay close about the grounds for the next day or two. There’s danger! Don’t neglect what I say.”