“I’m glad the Gossamer didn’t get smashed up, as I feared,” was all the young aviator would reply.
Dave made pretty sure that the machine would stand a trip back to the enclosure. To his satisfaction he made the flight without any mishap. Looking the craft over more critically after the return, however, he decided that the wings and floats would need some expert attention before he could venture any extended flight.
It was dark by the time they got the airship housed and supper ready in the living tent. After the meal Hiram strolled away, saying he would go to town after the evening mail. Dave and Grimshaw went inside the tent as a shower came up. They chatted agreeably, watching the gentle rain in the glint of the tent light.
“Hello,” said the old man, bending his ear sharply.
“Yes,” nodded Dave, “some one is knocking at the gate.”
“I’ll go and see who it is.”
“Maybe it’s Hiram.”
“No, he’s got a key.”
Grimshaw went away. Dave heard him talking with someone outside the gate. He was a little surprised as his old friend secured the gate after him. He was further puzzled to note the expression on Grimshaw’s face as he came back into the tent.
“Who was it, Mr. Grimshaw?” questioned Dave.