“Yes,” nodded the man, “I saw you go that way. Landed on Lookout Hill, didn’t you? The man who came here to have his bottle filled said so. He asked me if I had seen any other airships around here. There’s a good many of you for such a light little machine as that of yours.”
The young airman let the landlord do most of the talking, replying evasively. Some others, attracted by curiosity, approached the spot. It was getting late, however, and nobody stayed long.
“Let’s see, where is Lookout Hill from here?” Dave asked carelessly of the man with the pushcart, after the inn-keeper had gone away.
“That’s it,” said the man, pointing. “Where some one’s got a campfire, it looks. See, right through the trees yonder, beyond the creek.”
“Oh, yes,” replied Dave. “Here’s a dollar for getting here so promptly with those goods, and helping us.”
“Now then, Hiram,” said our hero, as the supplies were placed in the biplane and they found themselves alone, “it is you and I for a council of war.”
“I understand,” nodded his lively assistant—“you mean about the other airship?”
“Just that. One arrived here to-night, as you know.”
“The landlord mistook our machine for the one he saw.”
“Yes, and spoke of a man who came here later from the machine that passed over the town,” added Dave. “That light the other fellow showed us is probably the campfire at the landing place of the airship. I am going to find out who is in charge of it, friend or foe.”