Anyhow, Dave Dashaway, I won't let you go alone."

The young airman looked at his loyal, earnest friend with pleasure
and pride. Hiram was only a crude country boy. He had, however,
shown diamond in the rough, and Dave appreciated the fact.

Hiram had made several ground runs in an aeroplane. He had gone up
in the Baby Racer twice with Dave, and had proven himself a model
passenger. As he had just hinted, too, he had been familiar enough
with the mechanism of the biplane to operate some of its auxiliary
machinery so as to avert an accident.

"You are the best company in the world, Hiram," said Dave, "but I
wouldn't feel right in letting you take the risk of a hazardous
run."

"Dave, I won't let you go alone," persisted Hiram.

Dave said nothing in reply. He went outside, and Hiram followed
him. They unlocked the door of the shed adjoining where the Baby
Racer was housed, and lit two lanterns.

"Get a couple of the nearest field men, Hiram," directed Dave, "and
I will have everything in order by the time you get back."

There was not much for Dave to do. Only the noon of that day they
had got the little biplane ready for a cross country spurt. Then
the rain came on, and they decided to defer the dash till the
weather was more propitious. Dave was looking over the machinery,
when a gruff hail startled him.