CHAPTER II
LORD CRAM
David found the trip to Ayre tedious; the hours dragged interminably.His first night was sleepless, and he went into the dining-car forbreakfast rather late. He slipped into an empty seat at one of the smalltables for two. He found himself seated across from a thin, dark youngman a little older than himself. His pleasant good-morning was returnedby a mumbled greeting as the stranger glanced up, then hurriedlytransferred his attention to his food. He ate importantly, seeming toput a vast amount of ceremony into the homely order of bacon and eggsbefore him.
David ordered breakfast, and commenced to study his time-table. When helaid it down, the stranger leaned across and remarked, "I meant to get atime-table and forgot it. May I see yours?"
David handed it over with a pleasant word. The stranger, swaying to themotion of the fast train, opened the folder. David had marked stops andchanges, and had drawn a black line around Ayre. The chap looked up, andcaught David's eye.
"Ayre your destination?" he asked, and at David's nod he continued,"That's where I am going, too. My name is Cram--Walter Cram."
"My name is Ellison," said David, "Glad to meet you."
"Ellison," said Walter Cram. "Not a very--well, I don't know anyEllison, myself. Never heard the name but once. I've got a book, 'GreatPilots of the World War.' There is a pilot in that book named Ellison. Agreat chap; absolutely fearless; did the most amazing things. His careerreads like a fairy story. You ought to get that book and read about him.It would interest you on account of the coincidence of the name."
"I expect it would," said David.
Cram, once started, chatted on. He ran an appraising eye over David'sneat but not new suit, his correct but worn hat, his well-kept butmuscular hands. He pulled out a watch, white gold, thin and racy-lookingin its general correctness.
"What time you got?" he asked.
David, with a smile, obligingly bit. He hauled out a large fat silvertimepiece on the turnip order, and gravely offered its moon face forCram's inspection.
"Heirloom?" asked Cram compassionately.
"My grandfather's," replied David.
"How the old fellows loved those turnips!" said Cram. "I had an old hickof a grandfather, a farmer out in the sticks. He had one of those, andwe couldn't make him give it up. Same with yours, I suppose."
"No, he wouldn't give it up," said David. "Used it all his life, thengave it to me." What use to tell Cram how that watch had been carried byits intrepid owner into Africa, and through the jungles of SouthAmerica? It had lived in China, had skirted the steppes of Russia, hadbeen shipwrecked, and shot at. The dent on its fat back was the mark ofa poisoned arrow in Australia. No, his grandfather had never given it upuntil, called at last to explore a far more distant and unknown country,his dying hand had pressed it into the baby grasp of his grandson.
"Sentiment is a blamed poor thing," Cram declared; then, as if he hadbeen too friendly, he rose abruptly, nodded and with a brief "See youlater," went off, carrying the newspaper, and David's time-table aswell.
With a sigh of relief, David tackled his bacon and eggs, and a secondman slid into the vacant seat. He looked directly at David with a pairof keen blue eyes, around which curled thick fair lashes. His shock ofreddish-gold hair had been struggled with, but not subdued. His widegrin disclosed dazzling white teeth, whiter by contrast with the deepsunburn of his skin.
"Mind if I sit here, Buddy?" he asked cheerily.
"Not a bit," said David, smiling in return.
"Name's Ryan," said the blond husky. "Kenneth Ryan."
"I'm David Ellison," said David, warming at once to the honest face andclear gaze.
"Glad to meet you," said Ryan, extending his hard and muscular hand. Hestudied the menu card anxiously. "These here mennoos!" he groaned. "Whatmakes 'em have so many things to pick from? When I'm home I eat atdelicatessens, or Childs'; but this! Damfino what to choose!"
"I had oatmeal, and bacon and eggs, and cakes," said David helpfully.
"Bully!" said Ryan. He looked up at the waiter. "The same," he said,waving a comprehensive hand toward David's place. Then he settled hiselbows on the table.
"I seen you talking to Lord Cram," he chuckled.
"For a few minutes," said David. "You know him?"
"Yeah, but he doesn't know me, now. I used to go to school with him whenwe were kids at St. Mary's school in Lawton, Oklahoma. His folkscouldn't send him to public school on account of the Mex and Indiansfightin' him so because of the way he yelled. Beat any Indian war cryyou ever heard. Then his grandfather struck oil on his worthless farm,and, lordymighty, the Crams just soared! No, he don't know me. I'm justa mechanic. How far are you going, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Ayre, Ohio," said David.
"Ayre!" said Ryan. "Why, that's where Cram is bound. That's funny! Bygolly, I bet you are both set to try that examination at the GoodlowPlant."
"I am, at any rate," said David. "I don't know about Cram. He didn't putout any information."
"Afraid you might cramp his style. That's him all over. You might jumpoff the train ahead of him, and get the first taxi, and reach the plantfirst, and grab off a job as vice president."
"Are you going there, too?" asked David.
"Yes, I am, as it happens, but not for that apprentice course, worseluck. I haven't enough education. I want to land a job as mechanic. Ijust can't keep away from the flying machines, Ellison, and," he added,thrusting out a stubborn jaw, "if I get a chance down at Goodlow's, I'llbet my bottom dollar that I will make a swell mechanic. I've nothing atall above the collar," he grinned, "but I own a damn good pair ofhands."
"You will do," laughed David. "Here's hoping we both get in. We'll seesomething of each other if we do. I've got to write a note to my mother;see you later."
"Sure, sure!" said Ryan, beaming. "I camp in the smoker. So long!"
He watched David leave the car.
"Well, Red, we like that bozo, don't we?" he told himself. "True blue,if I can read a man, and a gentleman born. As my mother says, the markof character shows on a man, no matter how many overcoats he wears."
Later, in the club car, David found Cram reading a magazine. He walkedup to him.
"You forgot to return my time-table, I think," he said.
"Time-table? Oh, yes, here it is. I did take it, didn't I? Sorry, andthanks."
"That's all right," said David, turning.
"Wait!" Cram exclaimed. "Sit down. I'd like to talk to you. I amwondering if you are going to Ayre."
"I think it is marked on my time-table," returned David.
"I noticed it. It doesn't happen that you are going down for theexaminations at Goodlow's, does it?"
"On account of my name being the same as an aviator?" laughed David. "Asa matter of fact, I am going for the exams."
Cram shook his head. "That's almost too bad," he said. "You've come along way, but I'm afraid you won't have the ghost of a chance, unlessyou brought a lot of credentials, letters from your teachers, andcongressmen, and senators, and so on. No? Well, they tell me it is goingto take a lot of pull to get in, a darned lot of pull. You see, thesepeople want to interest influence and money, and they are going to givefirst chance to the applicants who can do 'em the most good that way."
"That's too bad," said David, without showing any particular anxiety. "Ican't show a letter from a single senator. I had an idea that this wasstrictly a personal merit proposition."
"Personal merit hasn't a show these days, my boy."
"What pull have you got?" asked David.
Cram put a hand on David's knee.
"Boy, I have a suitcase stuffed full of credentials. I have enough topaper a room! No need to worry over my chances."
"That's fine," said David heartily. "I will have to depend on schoolreports, and such things."
He nodded, and walked away. He was depressed in spite of himself. Thecocksure arrogance of Cram was funny, yet it st
uck in David's mind. Hewas glad to wander into the smoker and talk to Ryan, who greeted himjoyfully. He repeated his conversation with Cram.
"Aw, he makes me sick!" scoffed Ryan. "He may make the grade, at that,though. He got to be quite a shark at his books, and he's had a smallplane, so he can talk smooth and easy. Yeah, he may pass. Lots of wayshe's not so bad. My brother Mike likes him."
"You have a brother?" asked David.
"Six," said Ryan. "Have you any?"
"Six? Gosh! No; I have two sisters."
"Only two? I have five. That's quite a houseful to bring up and dressand feed, even in Oklahoma. No wonder we boys worked. But it did usgood, at that. I don't begrudge any of it, except I was sorry that Inever could get the hang of my lessons. Some of us is smart, though. Myoldest brother was a chaplain in the army through the war. I wanted toenlist last year, and told him so; and he said, 'Red Ryan, youno-account, if you go enlistin' in the army for thirty a month andfound, I'll find ye and I'll not leave one strip of skin on your back,and the Pope and me will excommunicate you beside.' He's a murderin'cuss. I'm not one to butt into your affairs, Mr. Ellison, but don't yougive Wally one worrisome thought. You'll pass. I like yourstraight-looking eyes, and so will they."
David laughed. "Why, you fuss me, Ryan," he said, "but I am going to getin. I have got to pass; and if I fail this time, I'll get work with you,and study nights, and try for the next class."
"That's the stuff, me lad!" cried the redhead. "Not climbing up onnobody's shoulders. And Red Ryan's the lad that's going to stand by andhurray when you've got where you're goin'."
But five days later, at the Goodlow Plant in Ayre, David did pass. Asanticipated, there was a mob of applicants. Scores of them, who saw inflying an easy way of escaping the grind of ordinary toil. These soonfaded out of the picture, when they found out a little of therequirements and routine of the strenuous years ahead, and left a fewreal enthusiasts, boys who realized that aviation is humanity's dreamcome true.
How can we guess what hours the cave man spent, after a kill and itsresultant feast, lying on some mossy bank, watching the swift andglorious flight of great birds, and longing to be as they? Then, agespassing, the vision persisted with the winged beasts of the Apocalypse;the flying steeds of Zeus; Pegasus, beautiful and free, winging hisglorious way toward the dawn, outracing the Flying Carpet; eager youngIcarus, his wings of wax melting in the sun. Ever aspiring, the dreamerspassed, laughing at Darius Green as he tumbled, and watching with batedbreath as the first hot-air balloons lumbered clumsily into the air! Anage-old dream that has never grown less alluring, never less lovely, butdepends at last on man's own knowledge and desperate endeavor.
So, in the big austere room, where the Board of Judges met, the streamof applicants slowly divided, one part to be absorbed again into thearteries of the cities, the other part to face the final questions andscrutiny of men well able to judge men's capabilities, and read theirsecret ambitions.
They were questioned in small groups; and David, when dismissed with anumber of others with the welcome assurance that they would be enrolledas student apprentices, was unaware of the good impression he had madeon the examining board. As he was about to leave the room, someone athis elbow called his name. A tall gray-haired man stood beside him.
"Are you Rick Ellison's son?"
"Why, yes, sir," said David.
"I am Colonel Porter. I am very proud to have known your father. He wasan ace of aces. His death, coming at that last moment of the war, wasdoubly a tragedy and a great loss to the air service. You have somethingto live up to, young man."
"I am proud, Colonel, but if you don't mind--well, sir, would you minddoing me a favor?"
"Name it, son!" said the Colonel. "Doing a favor for Rick Ellison's boywould seem like doing something for him; and God knows anyone who knewhim would jump at that chance."
"It is only this," said David. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not haveit known here about father. He is too big for me. I want to see if Ican't make good without leaning on his record. If it leaks out now thatI am Captain Ellison's son, lots of 'em will watch me and perhaps bekinder to me than I deserve.
"Don't you see, sir, it is sort of like the ginks in old times, who usedto go out to kill dragons and rescue fair ladies carrying plain shields,so nobody would know that their fathers were kings, until they hadproved that they were pretty hot themselves."
"Absolutely; you are right!" said the Colonel. "I will not tell, butdon't forget that I am David Ellison's friend, for his own sake as wellas for the sake of his father." He shook David's hand and as the boywent out muttered to himself, "Damned if that kid hasn't killed hisfirst dragon, already; the dragon of dependence!"
Once outside, David sprinted for a telegraph office, and the gloriousnews of his success ticked gaily off to his mother. Then taking hissuitcase, he returned to the Goodlow Plant, and at the barracks wasassigned his quarters.
On his way to find Ryan he saw Cram sitting outside the General Offices,where the Board was working.
"What's the glad news, Cram?" he cried.
Cram looked up.
"Well, there's some hitch," he said. "I guess they don't know just whichclass to put me in. They told me to wait until afternoon. I thought Imight as well stay right here."
"Did they read all your dope?" asked David.
"They have it in there," said Cram. "I'll bet it knocks 'em cold. I told'em all I could, but it was such a scramble. I don't believe I touchedon the oil. Ready money, Ellison. A few family gushers to put intoimprovements and all that. Yes, I ought to have mentioned the oil."
"Well, I bet the oil will leak out sooner or later," said David. "Goodluck!" He went on.
Two hours later as David skirted the big landing field, he saw Cram,suitcase in hand, hurrying toward the taxi stand. David shouted, but hedid not appear to hear. Breaking into a run, David overtook him.
"What's the decision?" he enquired.
Cram's face was livid; his lips twitched.
"Ellison, they turned me down!" he announced. "Said I wasn'tscholastically and technically qualified. Politics in it somehow, ofcourse. Or some personal grudge." He swore roundly.
"Why, that's too bad!" said David. The other's bitter disappointmentroused a feeling of friendship that surprised him.
"I'll get even somehow," said the other. "Why, all I wanted was to makea name for myself in something beside oil." His eyes filled.
"Well, that's all right. You study, and come back next year, and tryagain. If you want any help or suggestions, write me. I'll do what Ican."
Cram did not reply at once. He smoothed his ruffled hair with a handthat shook.
"I guess I'm like our Indians. Some grudges I never forget."
"Be a good Indian then, Cram, and don't tomahawk anybody until you knowjust what's what."
Cram sneered, and with a glare over David's shoulder walked hastilyaway. David turned to see the cause of the venomous look. It was RedRyan, whistling lustily.
"Red, they kicked him out," said David.
"Not Cram!"
"Yep, and gosh, he is sore! Wants to kill someone. Wants to be a badIndian, in fact."
"Cram kicked out--"
"Not really kicked," said David. He repeated Cram's report.
"He'll consider he's been dynamited. Well, with my brother a priest, I'ddo better not to rejoice as I could. But if he's gone, he's gone, andwe've new jobs, and tough ones ahead of us."