Dave Dashaway Around the World: or, A Young Yankee Aviator Among Many Nations

“So good,” declared Elmer; “that I’d almost rather come in second with the big heart you’ve got, than think I’d left a fellow airman in the lurch.”

“Well, it’s a free for all now, I hope,” spoke the anxious Hiram. “When a fellow is so near the winning post as we are, it makes him selfish, I guess. Yes, you did just right, Dave Dashaway; only, if you see some stray tramp limping along, don’t stop to give him a lift.”

Within an hour the advance pilot of the race, number seven, was nowhere in view. Our hero had made a study of this one close rival in the field as well as repair the machine. He had found out where it was weak and the Comet strong. Barring accident, the young pilot of the Comet felt sanguine that his machine would reach the winning post first.

The airship boys did some splendid running. They made no stops except for fuel and water. They ate and slept on the wing. Hiram counted the moments and Elmer the miles. At midnight, thirty hours later, they were within two hundred miles of Washington.

It was a momentous climax in their earnest young lives. They had circled the globe. They had overcome every obstacle in their path. They had won, the proud pilot of the Comet and his eager assistants hoped and believed.

With a cheer, husky with emotions, seeming to swell up in his heart like a fountain of joy, Hiram Dobbs arose in the machine as it settled down almost at the very spot whence it had started – “oh, almost years before!” Elmer declared.

Dave Dashaway stepped from the machine. The cares, the hardship, the worry, the doubt of long arduous weeks seemed to fall from him like a garment. He gave one vast sigh of relief and satisfaction. Every eye was at once directed towards the club house. Some field men came running from the distant hangars.

“Say,” spoke Hiram, with a queer anxious jerk in his voice – “the bulletin board!”

His heart sank as he ran towards it. Elmer followed close on his trail. There were notations opposite the various numbers. Had someone preceded them – had someone won the race?

And then, after a single glance, Hiram threw his cap up in the air, his face beaming, and Elmer grasped his hand, delirious with excitement. Dave, coming up, found them dancing about as if half mad with joy.

For the lines on the bulletin board bore only such notations as these: “Number ten – abandoned at Winnipeg.” “Number six – wrecked at Cape Nome.” “Number five – abandoned,” and others “out of commission.”

There were blanks after number seven and number two. As the airship boys stood there, a man came quickly out upon the veranda which held the bulletin board. He cast an excited glance at the travel-worn Comet. He waved his hand gaily at the three young champions. Then with a piece of chalk he wrote on the third blank line:

“Number three, Comet; pilot, Dashaway – first.”

A date, an hour, a minute, even down to odd seconds followed. The world knew that the airship boys had won the great international prize!

There were so many pleasant and rapidly occurring events transpiring close on the heels of the great race around the world, that for over two weeks our hero and his loyal comrades had a busy, interesting time of it.

Twelve hours after the arrival of the Comet, number seven came into the goal. She was a bird with a broken wing. A patched-up plane told of a last dash under decided disadvantages.

“Don’t you crow over me, Mr. Dave Dashaway,” said the energetic young Pierce, playfully. “I win second prize, all alone by myself. You three have to divide yours. But, better than the international trophy, is the big thing you did for me, and people are going to know about it, too,” declared Pierce, and he kept his word.

Mr. Brackett was very proud of the son who had “made good” in an exploit calling for more than ordinary ability and grit. To our hero he insisted all the credit was due, and the young airman realized that he had made strong, lifetime friends.

It seemed to the airship boys the very happiest moment of their lives, the day a dainty little miss drove up to the Comet hangar, and Miss Edna Deane, with tears of joy and gratitude, and her lovely face fairly glowing, told them what heroes they were.

“My brother is resting with a relative in England,” she narrated. “Father has gone to bring him home. If you are a thousand miles away from Washington when they return, you must promise, all three of you, to come to the family reunion, of which you are surely members, as friends and brothers. Father and brother will have something interesting to say to you. We are very, very grateful – and, oh, so proud of you!”

“It’s worth something to find a little sister like that,” cried Hiram, as their visitor left them, all sunny smiles and happiness.

“‘Something interesting’ means a right royal reward, of course,” spoke Elmer. “Why, fellows, if we keep on, we’ll soon have the capital to start an aero meet all our own!”

It was just a week after that, early one morning, that the airship boys, seated in the aero association club room, were hailed joyously by an unexpected visitor.

“Why, Mr. Hull!” exclaimed Dave, greeting the newcomer warmly.

The shipwrecked mariner looked like a new man. He wore a spick and span suit, and was cleanly shaven. He seemed well fed and happy.

“Missed you at Rio,” he announced; “but knew you’d do the square thing. Met a chum who financed me, and came on to get my keg.”

“Which is safe and sound in the storage room here,” announced our hero.

“Well, all we’ve got to do is to get it hauled down to a chemical works in Washington to get our money – half of it is yours,” observed the old salt.

“Say, Mr. Hull,” broke in the irrepressible Hiram; “what in the world is in that keg, anyway?”

“Can’t you guess?” asked the old salt.

“We haven’t the least idea, unless it’s grease.”

“Grease! Ha! ha!” laughed the sailor. “Not much, my lad. Give another guess.”

“I don’t see what could be worth such a sum of money as you claim,” returned Hiram, his face showing how puzzled he was.

“You haven’t opened the keg?”

“No,” answered Dave, promptly.

“It ain’t leaked none either?”

“Not enough to count.”

“I am glad o’ that, lads. I wouldn’t want that stuff to git away from me, after all the trouble I had gittin’ it, an’ all the trouble you had carryin’ it so far.”

“But we are wildly excited to know what it is!” cried Hiram. “Please don’t keep us waiting any longer.”

“Hiram has made all sorts of wild guesses,” laughed Dave. “First he thought you had gold dust – but gold dust isn’t greasy.”

“No, it ain’t gold dust.”

“Then what?” pleaded Hiram. “Come, out with it, Mr. Hull.”

“Ambergris,” promptly replied Jabez Hull. “Found it floating on the water off that island where you met me. I suppose you know it’s worth just double pure gold an ounce, and so rare that the price never goes down.”

“Well, what next?” asked Hiram, some time later.

“I don’t know,” answered Dave. But many more adventures were in store for our hero, and what some of them were will be related in the next volume of this series, to be entitled: “Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds.”

So we leave our young friends for the present, happy, honored and still ambitious. They had been leaders and heroes in the aviation field. Their efforts had been practical and not reckless. They had shown a new course around the world. They had proven a new possibility in aerial science, and fame and fortune had been the reward of Dave Dashaway and his intrepid airship boys.