“Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!”
“Why, it’s Dashaway!”
“Where’s Worthington?”
Dave smiled in a happy way at old Grimshaw and Hiram, who were among the throng that crowded about the landed racer. He made a brief explanation and was borne in triumph to the King hangar by his delighted friends.
It took Dave an hour to satisfy the curious and excited Hiram with an explanation of his mysterious disappearance of the evening previous, and the story of his arriving at Clyde just in time to complete Worthington’s broken trip.
This part of the story soon got about the grounds. It added a new lustre to the exploit of the hour. Worthington arrived in the camp an hour later, not much the worse for his accident.
“You’ve made it, lad!” cried old Grimshaw in delight. “You’ve got a record to go on now that older hands would give their ears for.”
“I am glad,” said Dave simply, and he was, indeed, very glad and very happy.
Only one feature marred the pleasure of the occasion. Mr. King was not at the hangars. Hiram explained that he and the automobile chauffeur had waited till midnight where Dave had left them at Genoa. Then, alarmed they had sped back to Dayton and had told Mr. King all they knew about the strange affair.
“Mr. King said he would fathom the mystery and find you, if he had to give up business for a week,” explained Hiram.