Dave had also received some money from the motion picture manager. Then Mr. King handed him what was due him of a modest salary for the broken week.
Saturday afternoon Mr. King had arranged to ship his traps to Dayton, all except the monoplane, in which he and his young assistant made the trip.
Dave found his friend, Hiram, on the new grounds. The country boy was in high spirits. He had worked tirelessly while at Fairfield. When there were no visitors to the grounds, he went into the town. He sold out a lot of leftover souvenirs, and that Saturday afternoon boasted gleefully of being for the first time in his life the possessor of ten dollars.
“All my own,” he announced, “and I’m going to tidy up a bit. Come and help me pick out a cheap suit, Dave.”
“Yes, and I need a complete outfit myself,” explained Dave. “I tell you, Hiram, this is a great day for two poor fellows who hadn’t a quarter between them a week ago.”
“And see what we are learning,” added Hiram. “If ever airshipping gets to be the go for traveling about, we’ll be in right on the jump, won’t we?”
Mr. King was pleased to see the improved appearance of his young apprentice in a neat sensible suit of clothes. He had taken a decided liking to Dave, who was quick, reliable and accommodating. Dave felt like a bird given its freedom after a long and irksome captivity. His head was full of aviation all of the time, however, and the various airmen he got acquainted with were all willing and glad to answer his questions about this and that detail of the different make machines.
Monday morning, Mr. King had taken Dave down to a roped-off section of the aviation field. It held a tent covering an old type airplane, and also housing a queer old fellow with one arm, whom the airman introduced to Dave as Mr. Grimshaw.
“Here’s the young fellow I was telling you about,” said Mr. King. “You’ll find him a likely pupil.”
“I’ll soon know it, if that’s so,” responded the gruff, grim old fellow. “Put him right through the regular course of sprouts, eh?”