It was easy to figure out that the boy, Jerry Dawson, had been discharged from the employ of Mr. King. His father had interceded for him, but it had been of no avail. Suddenly Dave’s interest was distracted from the incident of the moment. He heard his late companion speaking beyond the doorway:—
“Yes, sir, a man gave me that card and said he had heard that you was in need of a boy.”
“H’m, yes,” Dave heard Mr. King reply. “That is true, but—what’s your name.”
“Hiram Dobbs.”
“Where do you come from, Hiram?”
“I did live twenty miles west of here, but I got tired of farming and my brother said I could try something else if I wanted to. I worked for a fellow in the merry-go-round business in the city till night before last. He sloped without paying me.”
“And you want to break into the aero business, eh?”
“Well, I heard there might be a chance with you, so I came here. You see, I’ve had some experience.”
“In the airship line?”
“Well, no—balloons.”