He gave Dave a terrific jerk. It was so forceful that our hero’s grasp of the tree tore loose, and he toppled over. In doing so his assailant lost his balance. He stumbled over Dave’s entangled foot. In some astonishment the young aviator found the fellow had completely disappeared as he got to his feet.
“He’s done for himself, sure enough,” said Dave, and he peered down into the pit. It was about twenty feet deep. He heard a groan. Then he traced a rustling about. His eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness, Dave was finally enabled to make out his enemy trying to climb up the steep sides of the pit.
The roots he clutched at gave way in his grasp and a shower of dirt and gravel drove him back. The young aviator discerned that the man was not seriously hurt. He realized also that sooner or later his enemy would manage to get out of the pit. If not at once, at least when his now helpless comrade came to himself, the man would be rescued.
“He is just where I want him,” thought the young aviator. “It won’t do to leave him the machine.”
Dave walked up again to the flying machine. He soon estimated its condition and capacity. He found it to be a capable piece of mechanism.
“Hi, stop—Oh, thunder!”
This was shouted out after the runaway as the machine lifted into the air, Dave at the helm. Its rightful pilot spoke, but, his call barely completed as he grasped at the edge of the pit, down he slid again to its bottom.
Fifteen minutes later the machine dropped to earth in the field behind the inn at Doubleday, not a hundred feet from the Comet. Hiram came running towards it.
“You, Dave?” he called out cautiously.
“With company,” answered Dave promptly.