CHAPTER XXV
CONCLUSION
“This is Professor Leblance, I believe? We have been expecting you,sir.”
“And this is my friend and co-worker, David Dashaway,” spoke the Frenchscientist, proudly.
It was thirty-six hours after the giant airship had landed on Frenchsoil. Within that space of time rapid and interesting events had beencrowded into the experience of the young American aviator.
At once after the landing, the professor had sought out the nearestresident representative of the French Aero Association. This individualhad officially verified the arrival of the _Albatross_. Armed with thenecessary credentials, Leblance and his young assistant had started atonce for London.
Their destination, now reached, was the International Aero Institute,with whom trans-Atlantic negotiations had been made before the_Albatross_ started on its trip. The French official had wired about thecoming of the distinguished visitors.
Now Dave Dashaway, like the professor, arrayed in a handsome new suit ofclothes, stood in the office of one of the most noted organizations inthe aero world.
The first flush of the recent triumph still dwelt with Dave. Then thereflashed over his mind the marvelous contrast between the present momentand less than six months previous. Then he had been the obscuredown-trodden ward of a cruel guardian. Now through a mist of gratefultears the young aviator thought tenderly of the right royal friends whohad assisted in crossing the Atlantic in the giant airship and who hadloyally helped him to become the honored guest of men famous the worldover for science and intelligent adventure.
The secretary of the club who had greeted them stood aside with acourteous bow to usher them into the reception room of the club. As hedid so he said:
“We are proud to greet you, Professor. Your exploit will live inhistory, notwithstanding that you are second in the remarkable feat ofcrossing the Atlantic in an airship.”
The sensitive Frenchman recoiled as though dealt a blow.
“How?” he cried sharply. “Second? what does this mean?”
“You had not heard? Ah, yes, the _Dictator_, pilot J. E. Dawson, landednear Plymouth day before yesterday. After a terrible trip, clinging tothe mere rag of a gas bag, Dawson was found nearly drowned on theseashore.”
Professor Leblance sank to a chair stupefied. He stared like a manstunned into vacancy. He was completely overcome.
A strange expression crossed the face of the young aviator. Impulsivelyhis hand went to a certain document that Elmer Brackett had given himtwo days before. His eye grew more steady, his lips more firm.
“Will you kindly give me a few details of the _Dictator_ flight,” herequested, “while Professor Leblance recovers from his surprise?”
It was a brief story. The red, white and blue gas bag had landed nearPlymouth. The daring pilot was discovered clinging to it, drenched tothe skin. He had been feted, honored, brought to London. He was even nowin the next room, relating his wonderful adventures to the president anddirectors of the club.
“Come, Professor Leblance,” said Dave, in a clear, steady tone, “I havesomething to say to this wonderful J. E. Dawson.”
“Professor Leblance and Mr. Dashaway, of the _Albatross_,” introducedthe secretary, a minute later.
Lolling in a luxurious armchair in the midst of some braggadociorecital, with a startled jerk Jerry Dawson came upright as thoughelectrified.
The eye of the young aviator rested upon him with a fixedness that madehim squirm.
“Happy to meet you, Professor Leblance,” greeted the club official. “Youshare a most glorious exploit with our guest.”
“One word first,” interrupted Dave, amazed at his own firmness of voiceand nerve. “So there may be no later misunderstanding, does that youngman, whom I recognize as a Mr. Dawson, claim to have arrived first inthe race across the Atlantic?”
“Most assuredly,” responded the club president.
“His claim is unfounded,” declared the young aviator in a calm, eventone, but with great positiveness. “He is an adventurer, a fraud. Hecrossed the Atlantic on the steamer _Alsatia_. The balloon found on thePlymouth coast is a duplicate of the _Dictator_ which he brought alongwith him, and the original _Dictator_, after a brief land run, waspurposely burned up fifty miles from New York city.”
“Who says so?” shouted Jerry Dawson, getting excitedly to his feet.
“Roger Davidson,” replied the young aviator, simply.
Jerry Dawson grew white to the lips. He foresaw the losing game, butstill he blurted out:
“The proofs?”
“Gentlemen,” said Dave, “a cablegram will serve to order aninvestigation of the ashes of the _Dictator_. A living witness as to theshipboard experience of this young romancer can be brought to London assoon as our friends are reached.”
“Why, if this is true, the club will be the laughing stock of theworld,” observed the president, bending a dark look on Jerry.
“I—I think I’ll go and consult a lawyer about this insulting charge,”ventured Jerry. “Let me out.”
“No, we will kick you out, if this is all true!” shouted an angrydirector.
“You will remain here,” said the president, firmly. “Your story, sir,the truthful one; or we shall hold you criminally for falserepresentation.”
Jerry was scared. Dave’s resolute face daunted him most of all. Hetrembled and shivered. By degrees he confessed. He was taken to theoffice of the club to furnish a signed statement. Then he was turnedloose on the streets of London—exit ingloriously Jerry Dawson!
The invalid wanderings of Davidson had supplied his nurse, ElmerBrackett, with a pretty clear history of the plot to impose a duplicate_Dictator_ on the public. While under the influence of a drug, Davidsonhad fallen from the steamer, and Jerry had thrown a grating after him.Perhaps the hope of securing all the international prize money forhimself, had led Jerry to say nothing further about the accident.
* * * * *
There was a great celebration at a noted London hotel the weekfollowing. The most humble member of the crew of the _Albatross_ waspresent.
Money and fame had come to them all. Dave Dashaway was the centralfigure with the public. Professor Leblance seemed to take most pride inthe construction of the _Albatross_. Young, enterprising, popular, Dave,as the last man at the helm of the ill-fated _Albatross_, was the realhero of the event.
“Well, lads,” said the happy Professor Leblance across the table toDave, Hiram and Elmer, “you have now reached so high a notch inaeronautic science that you can go no further.”
“Mistake,” piped up the irrepressible Hiram.
“Oh, yes, a grave mistake, Professor,” insisted young Brackett.
Dave Dashaway only smiled.
“Come, what’s up with you young people?” challenged the good-natured Mr.King.
“Why,” spoke the young aviator, “when we go back home, and you have putthat promised quietus on that rascal Vernon, we are going to Elmer’sfather and have him build for us a magnificent aeroplane that will beatanything ever before constructed.”
“And the purpose?” inquired old Grimshaw, with a hopeful twinkle in hiseye.
“Why,” replied Dave, “our idea is to get up a great international racearound the globe.”
“That’s it,” jubilated the veteran airman. “I knew it would be somethinggrand and original.”
“Canada, Alaska, Siberia, Russia—finishing where we began,” explainedDave Dashaway.
“Can it be done?”
“I think so.”
“But the danger——”
“There was danger in crossing the mighty Atlantic.”
“I know that. But to go around the world. You will meet all sort ofstrange people and get in many a tight situation, and——”
“But Dave Dashaway can do it, trust him,” said Mr. Dale, proudly. “He isthe son of his father—you can trust him.?
??
“Oh, you can’t beat Dave,” cried Hiram. “His enemies have tried it, andfailed, every time.”
So we leave our young airmen, full of ardor and hope, with theirwonderful plans. How the same were carried out in a most remarkableaviation exploit, will be told in a succeeding volume, to be entitled,“Dave Dashaway Around the World; Or, A Young Yankee Aviator Among ManyNations.”
“Only one Dave Dashaway in this world,” said Hiram, to young Brackett.
“The best friend I ever had!” murmured the other. “One boy in amillion!”
“Right you are!”
THE END
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