“See here,” interrupted Mr. King, in a generous way, placing a reassuring hand on Dave’s shoulder, “don’t say that again. You’ve done all you could, and I thank you for it. Mr. Dixon,” he went on, glancing at his watch, “I am going to have a mighty busy morning, and I want you to excuse me for a while.”
“All right,” nodded the inventor, though rather glumly, arising to his feet.
“I’ll be around the field all day, and be glad to see you and talk to you about trying your invention any time after noon.”
“Oh, that’s good,” bowed Mr. Dixon, brightening up. Then he fixed his eye on Dave, and said: “I believe this young man made some remark about helping us out, when he first appeared on the scene.”
“Say, you’re a regular old ogre, Dixon!” railed the airman. “You look as hungry as one, wanting to make this lad your first victim. I shan’t recommend anybody, nor furnish anybody to try your parachute dress, until I am perfectly satisfied he won’t come to any harm.”
“When you do, Mr. King,” broke in Dave, “I’d like a chance to show my confidence in you by trying the umbrella suit.”
“All right. I’m to see you after dinner,” said the old inventor leaving the room.
“Now then, my lad,” spoke the aviator briskly, “sit down. I want to talk to you.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Dave gladly.
“I want you to tell me your whole story. I have an idea it is going to interest me. First, your name?”