"And rich."

"Rich in good friends, anyway," replied Andy.

"I hung around. When I saw you coming in on the lead, I nearly fell flat I was so excited," declared Silas.

"I want a chance for a little talk with you, Silas," said Andy. "I want to show you how much I appreciate what you have done for me."

The merry, happy coterie crossed the field, and coming out at a gate made a short cut for the Parks camp. They had just neared it, when among the crowd thronging about the place, Andy made out a boy edging towards him.

He crowded past several persons and came up to Andy's side and caught his sleeve.

"Andy," he said in a bold but sheepish way, "you know me, don't you?"

"Why, yes, I know you," answered Andy.

He stared in mingled surprise, perplexity and distrust at the speaker.

It was Dale Billings. Hungry-faced, unkempt looking, as if he had not slept for a week, and then in a hay mow or a freight car. Andy's old-time enemy confronted him in the hour of his great triumph.

CHAPTER XXIV-A HOPEFUL CLEW

"Did you want to see me, Dale," inquired Andy.

"Yes, I do, and bad," responded Dale Billings. "See here, you've won a big race. You're rich. If it hadn't been for me and Gus Talbot, you wouldn't be."

"How is that?" inquired Andy.

"We figured along the line, didn't we? If I'd gone to work for old Talbot when I had a chance, you'd have been out and wouldn't have learned about automobiles and machinery and such, and couldn't have run an airship and won the race."

This was queer reasoning. Andy had to smile. He couldn't feel any way but pleasant and happy with the great airship prize his, however, and he said:

"Well, let that go. What are you driving at, Dale?"

"We're in hard luck, me and Gus."

"You look it," said Andy.

"We haven't got a cent, we don't dare to go back home. Gus is sick in an old shed down the tracks, and we haven't had a mouthful to eat since yesterday morning. There's no friends here we know but you. I'm just desperate. Loan me two dollars, Andy."

"Why certainly," answered Andy.

"I mean five-yes, if you'll loan us ten dollars till we get work and on our feet, we'll pay it back."

"All right," agreed Andy, "only you'll have to come up to our camp for it. You know where it is-Parks' camp."

"Yes, I know."

"I want to have a talk with you. You can depend on the money, Dale."

A thought ran through the mind of the young aviator that by kindness he might make some impression on the two outcasts. As he summed up the meanness and audacity of his recent capture, however, Andy secretly confessed that it would be a hard undertaking.

First thing of all, our hero took a bath and got himself in better shape generally. Mr. Parks and a group of his friends occupied the main sitting room. Andy had left Dale in one of the smaller apartments of the old shack. As he went thither he pa.s.sed Scipio, arrayed in white ap.r.o.n and natty cap and warbling a plantation ditty as he brandished knife and carver gaily.

"Getting sech a dinnah, Andy, chile," he chuckled. "Ah give you a feast you nebber forgit."

"Now then, Silas," said Andy, entering the room where he had left the farmer boy, "I've got time to shake your hand good and hearty, and glad to do it."

"And I'm glad you're not too proud to do it," replied Silas.

"You've done a big thing for me, Silas," went on Andy.

"Think so?"

"Where would the race be if you had not come along in the nick of time and set me free?"

"I was mightily surprised to see you in that queer fix," said Silas, "and I didn't know what had happened when you started on a rush for the airship."

"Well, you understand now," said Andy. "Now then, Silas, what can I do for you?"

"Do, how?"

"I want to acknowledge your usefulness in some way. There must be something you want or need."

"You mean you'd like to give me some little memento for trying to help you along?"

"That's it."

"But I'm glad to do it for nothing."

"Never mind. Come, speak out, Silas. A bicycle, a nice new watch and chain?"

"Why, see here," said Silas, after a moment's deep thought, "if it's the same to you, I'd like ten dollars and seventeen cents."

Andy smiled. "For something special?" he inquired.

"Why, yes. You see I want to go to school this winter and learn shorthand. The term is eighteen dollars, and I've only saved up seven dollars and eighty-three cents."

"I'll do better than that for you, Silas," said Andy, "and I'm glad to find you so ambitious. How is your father?"

"All right, I guess, though I haven't seen him for nigh onto a month."

"Why, how's that?"

"I've been staying at the Collins farm."