“All right, Dave,” agreed Hiram, “only I’m terribly anxious and curious. Can I ask you just one question?”
“Yes, if you choose,” replied Dave.
“Is the man behind all this trouble the fellow I have all along guessed—that fellow, Vernon?”
“You needn’t guess it,” answered Dave. “You have hit it just right. It is Vernon.”
CHAPTER XII
THE SECRET TOLD
“Now then, Dave, we are all ready to hear that promised story of yours,” said Hiram Dobbs.
“Yes,” added Elmer Brackett, “there’s no danger of any spies or eavesdroppers in this lonely place.”
It was a lonely place, indeed. Half a week in time and over a thousand miles in distance removed from the Chicago aero grounds, the three young airmen were taking a rest in the midst of a far-spreading Canadian forest.
Right at the spot where they were camping was a knob, or hill. At its bottom, a level stretch of some extent, there spread about a vast, wild swamp. This afforded a good anchor spot for the biplane. The Comet rested on its base somewhat travel-stained, but staunch and reliable as at the start. The crew of the machine looked as if they had never felt better in their lives. Wind, rain and sun had begun to brown them up like gipsies. Energy showed in their clear, vigilant eyes, and confidence and ambition in every movement they made. They had just dispatched what Elmer had described as “a royal feast,” which sharp appetites had fully enjoyed. Then, each of the trio outstretched on the grass, they luxuriated in a restful position that a rigid posture in the Comet during a day of hard traveling had not allowed.