He observed a man he had noticed on a bench directly opposite to the
one he had occupied sidling towards him. The fellow was ragged and
trampish looking. There was a queer leer in his face and his eyes
were fixed on the coat Dave wore.

"Well, what is it?" inquired Dave.

"Excuse a question, matey?"

"Oh, that's all right."

"Noticed a badge you're wearing," said the tramp.

"Oh, that?" spoke Dave lifting his hand to his coat lapel, and
wondering at the man been so observant.

"Yes--N. A. L.," nodded the tramp.

Dave eyed the speaker keenly. At the distance he was, it was
doubtful that he could have dearly made out the monogram, yet he
named the letters glibly and correctly.

"N. A. L." stood for the National Aero League. Dave was not a
member and neither was Hiram Dobbs. Mr. King was and during the
meets it had become the custom with professionals to furnish their
assistants with duplicate badges, which enabled them to enter and
leave the aero grounds unchallenged by the gateman, and ticket
takers.