“You see he is here.”
“I knew before this that he was,” replied Dave. “Mr. King told me this morning that young Dawson and his father were both working for an airman named Russell.”
“Well, Dave,” said Hiram in quite a serious tone, “I want you to look out for that fellow.”
“Why? I never did him any harm.”
“Because I’m around a good deal, and I hear a lot of things you don’t. That Jerry Dawson is a selfish, vicious boy. His father, they say, is almost as bad, and the man they are working for, Russell, has been barred from some meets on account of winning an altitude race by a trick.”
“I’ve heard of Russell, too,” responded Dave. “He’s no friend of Mr. King, and that’s enough for me. As to Jerry, though, I have no business with him, and don’t intend to have if I can help it.”
“He’ll cross your path in some mean way, you mark my words,” said Hiram warningly. “He’s got an idea that he owes Mr. King a grudge, and he’s crazy to pay it off. Down by the south pylons early this morning, I saw him talking to two of the roughest looking fellows I ever met. You was at your practice, and Jerry pointed you out to the men, and was whispering to them—something about you, I’ll bet.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for him, but I’m not a bit scared,” said Dave.
Hiram spoke of pylons just now as if he had known what they meant all his life. It was nearly a week after his first meeting with Dave, and a vast improvement was visible in the manner, position and finances of the humble but ambitious farm lad.
Hiram had gone to work with a vengeance. Mr. King had told him that there were many steps to the ladder leading to fame and fortune in the aviation field, and Hiram had taken this literally.