"No, thank you," replied Dave in a vague, bothered way that made his
companion and chum, Hiram Dobbs, study his face with some
perplexity.

"I'd better get back home, then," said the old man. "Fine weather
for hydroplanes this, eh?"

Both Dave and Hiram proceeded to the door with the grim old fellow
who had so kindly taught them all they knew about aeronautics. When
their visitor had departed, Dave went back to the table. He sat
down and perused the telegram once more. Then he sat looking
fixedly at it, as if he was studying some hard problem. Hiram stood
it as long as he could. Then he burst out impetuously:

"What is it, Dave?"

"I'm trying to find out," was the abstracted reply.

"Who is it from?"

"The Interstate Aeroplane Co."

That name meant a good deal to Hiram Dobbs, and a great deal more to
Dave Dashaway. It marked the starting point in the aviation career
of the latter, and that in its turn had meant a first step up the
ladder for his faithful comrade, Hiram.

In the first volume of this series, entitled: