“Don’t you call Jerry a thief!”
“If he isn’t that, at least he neglected to watch my property and my interests as he was paid to do.”
“You’ll suffer for sending my son away with a bad character!”
“Don’t let me see him again, that’s all.”
“Huh!”
The last speaker, a big fierce-looking man came out through the doorway with the word. From the way he was dressed Dave decided that he was employed somewhere about the grounds. His face was red and his fists clenched. He gritted his teeth viciously as he went on his way.
“It’s my turn now,” spoke up Dave’s companion eagerly.
He made a quick bolt through the doorway. Dave was left alone. His eyes followed the man whom he had heard called Dawson. The latter had gone about a hundred feet down the hangar row, when a boy about the age and size of Dave came suddenly into view from behind a shed, where evidently he had been waiting.
Dave decided that this must be the son of Dawson concerning whom there had been such an animated discussion. He could surmise from their looks and gestures that the father was reporting the result of the interview to his son. The latter scowled forcibly. Then he shook his fist in the direction of the hangar.
“Why,” said Dave thoughtfully, “there must be a vacancy here. Maybe I have arrived just in the nick of time.”