"You didn't give them any of the silk?"

"Not I."

"That was slick," chuckled Jerry.

"Hear him! He's a fine one, isn't he?" observed Hiram to Dave.

"Yes, Jerry can't be true, even to his friends," replied the young aviator.

Dave watched Jerry at the lever. He had to admit that his enemy knew considerable about running an aircraft. The only criticism he could make was that several times Jerry took some big risks in daringly banking, when the least variation of the wind would have made the Drifter turn turtle.

It was six hours later when the airship descended. At times the machine had made fully sixty miles an hour. Long since they had pa.s.sed the apparent limits of civilization. The course was due northwest. Vast forests spread out under them. It was only for the first time in one hundred miles, as they neared a small settlement on a river, that Jerry let down on the speed, and they descended at a spot about a mile from a settlement in the center of a big field.

Dave and Hiram were left in the cha.s.sis, while Jerry and his father left the machine. They conversed for some time, then it was arranged that Jerry should proceed to the settlement and purchase some provisions. His father came up to the machine as Jerry departed.

"See here, you two," he spoke in his usual gruff way, "we'll give you something to eat and, drink when Jerry comes back."

"Where are you taking us to, Mr. Dawson?" asked the young aviator.

"We are taking you so far from home, that you can't tramp back in time to pat any more of your friends on our track," was the blunt reply. "Another couple of hundred miles, and, if you behave yourself, we'll set you loose."

The man spoke as if the proposition was perfectly simple and honest one.

"Another couple of hundred miles?" repeated Dave.

"That is what I said, Dashaway."

"You are carrying things with a high hand, Mr. Dawson."

"Yes? Well, I know what I am doing."

"You may overreach yourself."

"Humph! I'll take my chances on that. You are smart, Dashaway, but you can't scare me and you can't get the best of me."

"But the law will get you, some day or another."

"Bah! I'm tired and don't want to listen to your talk. I tell you I know what I am doing."

"You won't release us now?"

"No."

"That is final?"

"It certainly is, and you may as well save your breath and not mention it again. I am tired out and don't want any more of such talk."

"Well, see here--" broke in Hiram.

"I won't listen to any more. Shut up."

With the words Dawson went over to a hammock at a little distance, spread his coat over it, and lay down to rest. It was not five minutes before his captives could hear him snoring loudly.

Hiram had been watching his every movement in an intense way. Now he leaned over towards Dave. His eyes were snapping with excitement and there was a broad smile on his face, as he whispered into the ear of the young aviator one word. It was:

"Hurrah!"

CHAPTER XXV

CAUGHT CONCLUSION

"Hurrah!" was the word that Hiram Dobbs spoke exultantly, and Dave looked at him in profound surprise.

Hiram had lifted himself up from the seat. Now he went through some movements that almost startled the puzzled young aviator.

Suddenly his arm shot out of the sling, and as suddenly Hiram, though with a wince, swung it around once or twice, and the three splints holding it cracked and split audibly.

"Hey, Hiram!" gasped Dave.

"S-sh!" uttered his a.s.sistant warningly.

Hiram ran his free hand down into his pocket. He drew out the big pocket knife he carried. It was more of a tool than a whittling toy, for he used it in tinkering about the airship.

With his teeth, Hiram opened its largest blade. He gave a slash at the cords surrounding his other arm and his feet. Then he leaned over towards Dave. A few deft strokes of the keen blade, and Dave, like himself, was free.

"Easy," he whispered, as Dave started up. "I'll watch Dawson. You get into the pilot's seat."

"Good for you, Hiram!" whispered back the young aviator, fairly thrilling with the excitement of the moment.

Dave took in every detail of the mechanism before his eyes. He made sure of no faulty start.

"All ready," he announced after a minute or two.

"Good-bye!" spoke Hiram, with a gay bold wave of his hand in the direction of the sleeping, Dawson.

"Put on the m.u.f.fler," ordered Dave, as the exhaust began to sizzle.

Hiram did so. It was too late, however, to avoid sounding a warning to Dawson. The big man started up with a yell. He came to his feet roaring out:

"Come back!"

"I hope you'll find the walking good!" shouted Hiram, waving his hand in adieu to the amazed Dawson.