Dave Dashaway and his Hydroplane | Page 5

the Baby Racer was housed, and lit two lanterns.
"Get a couple of the nearest field men, Hiram," directed Dave, "and I will have everything in order by the time you get back."
There was not much for Dave to do. Only the noon of that day they had got the little biplane ready for a cross country spurt. Then the rain came on, and they decided to defer the dash till the weather was more propitious. Dave was looking over the machinery, when a gruff hail startled him.
"Hello!" challenged old Grimshaw, appearing at the open doorway of the hangar. "What you up to, Dashaway?"
Dave flushed guiltily. He was dreadfully embarrassed to be "caught in the act" as it were, by his great friend, the old airman.
"Why--you see, Mr. Grimshaw--" stammered Dave.
"Yes, of course I see," retorted the old man firmly. "You're going to start out a night like this."
"I've got to, Mr. Grimshaw," declared Dave desperately.
"Business, eh?"
"Of the most important kind."
"What is it?"
It was in order for Dave to explain details, and did so briefly.
"H'm," commented Grimshaw, when his pupil concluded his explanation. "And so you thought you'd steal away without letting me know it?"
"Oh, now, Mr. Grimshaw!" Dave hastened to say-- "that was not the spirit of the thing at all."
"Go ahead, Dashaway."
"Well, then, I think so very much of you I didn't want it to worry you."
"Roll her out," was all that Grimshaw would say, placing his one hand on the tail of the biplane. "Hold on for a minute. Gasoline supply?"
"Twenty-five gallons."
"That will do. Lubricating oil-all right. Now then, lad, hit that head wind every time, and you'll make it, sure."

CHAPTER III
A WILD NIGHT RIDE
"Go!"
It was less than half an hour after the appearance of Grimshaw on the scene that the Baby Racer was all ready for its stormy night's flight.
The old aviator had fussed and poked about the dainty little biplane, as if it was some valued friend he was sending out into the world to try its fortune. Every once in a while he had growled out some brief advice to Dave in his characteristic way.
Then he directed and helped, while two field men started the machine on its forward run.
"Look out for telegraph poles, and watch your fuel tank," was Grimshaw's final injunction.
Dave knew the Baby Racer just as an engineer understands his locomotive. Daylight or dirk, once aloft the young aviator did not doubt his own powers. The moment the Racer left the ground, however, with a switch of her flapping tail, Dave knew that he was to have no easy fair-weather cruise.
"Slow it is," the watchful, excited Hiram heard him say, working the wheel as cautiously as an automobilist rounding a sharp curve.
Dave saw that everything depended on getting a start and reaching a higher level. He kept the angle of ascent small, for the maximum power of the engine could not be reached in a moment. The starting speed naturally let down with the machine ascending an inclined plane.
"It's slow enough, that's sure," remarked Hiram. "It's the wind, isn't it, Dave?"
"We don't want to slide back in the air or be blown over backwards," replied Dave, eye, ear, and nerve on the keenest alert.
The wind resistance caused a growing speed reduction. The sensitiveness of the elevating rudder warned Dave that he must maintain a perfect balance until they could strike a steady path of flight. Hiram's rapt gaze followed every skillful maneuver of the master hand at that wheel.
"Good for you!" he chirped, as Dave worked the ailerons to counteract the leaning of the machine. A swing of the rudder had caused the biplane to bank, but quick as a flash Dave righted it by getting the warping control on the opposite tack, avoiding a bad spill.
The machine was tail heavy as Dave directed a forward plunge, coasting slightly. He had, however, pretty good control of the center of gravity.
It was now only a question of fighting the stiff breeze that prevailed, and keeping an even balance.
Hiram's eyes sparkled as the Racer volplaned, caught the head wind at just the right angle, and struck a course due northwest like a sail boat under perfect control.
The engine was near the operator's seat, and on the post just under the wheel were the spark and throttle levers on the fuselage beam. The steering wheel was a solid piece of wood about eight inches in diameter with two holes cut into it to fit the hands.
The passenger's seat now occupied by Hiram was in the center line of the machine, so that, filled or vacant, the lateral balance was not affected.
Hiram knew all about the monoplane dummy or the aerocycle with treadle power for practice work which he had operated under old Grimshaw's direction. As to the practical running of a biplane aloft, however, that