"It will be a blind start, Dashaway, without a clew."

"But I have a clew," announced Dave.

"You didn't say so."

"I hadn't come to that yet, Mr. King. I haven't even told the Interstate people. I am pretty certain that the Drifter left Bolton on a due northwest course," and Dave drew from his pocket the card he had got from the tramp.

"Capital!" cried the aviator, becoming very much interested. "If you know that, you have half solved the problem."

"Besides that," went on Dave, producing the duplicate N. A. L. badge, and glancing at the scratched initials on its back, "I know who stole the Drifter."

"What's that?" almost shouted the aviator, springing to his feet, in a great state of excitement.

"Say, Dave, are you sure?" pressed the eager Hiram Dobbs, worked up to fever heat with curiosity and suspense.

"Who was it?" asked Mr. King.

"Jerry Dawson," was Dave Dashaway's reply.