up at this bold and false accusation. He was half minded to go down into the yard and face his accuser with the proof of the falsity of his charge.
“If you’ll just let me take any old rig to hitch up Dobbin to, it’ll be an accommodation,” went on Warner. “That runaway rascal maliciously smashed the wheel of my only wagon this evening.”
Mr. Towner pulled a light vehicle out of a shed, and Dobbin was hitched up. Silas Warner and his neighbor drove off, and Mr. Towner went back to bed.
Dave was worried and disturbed for a long time, even after things had quieted down. In his present crippled condition he did not dare venture outside. He was snug and safe for the time being at least, and finally he dropped off into a sound sleep.
The youth awoke to find the sun shining through the half-open hay door. He crept over to it as he fancied he heard some one moving about in the yard below. Dave was gratified to find his foot in much improved condition over the night previous. It was still a bit lame and stiff, but he could bear his weight upon it without flinching.
“Glad the ankle isn’t sprained or broken,” he told himself cheerfully. “I believe I could walk with it, and maybe try a run, if I had to.”
He was much refreshed by his sleep, but both hungry and thirsty. His face brightened up considerably as he heard some one clucking in the chicken yard, and glancing down recognized Ned Towner.
Dave did not know who might be in the stable below or in the vicinity. He leaned towards the loft door and gave a low but distinct whistle. It was one he and his chum used often in signalling one another.
“Hello!”
Ned Towner dropped the pan out of which he was throwing corn to the chickens. He looked about him in a startled way. Then he came out of the poultry yard, trying to locate the source of the call.
“It’s Dave,” the lurker in the hay loft heard him mutter. “No one else – Dave.”
“S – st!”
Dave had shown his face and waved his hand from the door aperture.
“Dave!” repeated Ned, in still further wonderment.
“Yes, it’s me,” responded Dave in a hurried, cautious tone of voice. “Anybody else about?”
“Not a soul.”
“All at breakfast?”
“Yes.”
“Come up here, will you?”
“You bet I will, and mighty glad to see you,” cried Ned, with vim and sincerity. “Now then – what?”
Reaching the loft Ned challenged his friend, curious and excited, as if he expected that Dave would have a great story to tell.
“You know what has happened,” said Dave.
“That you ran away last night – yes. They are talking about nothing else in the house yonder. Say, tell me about it, for I know old Warner’s tale is all bosh.”
“The robbery end of it is, you can rely on that,” replied Dave, and he recited briefly his adventures and misadventures since they had last met.
“Say,” cried Ned, when Dave had concluded his story, “you just stick to your plan.”
“I intend to,” answered Dave sturdily.
“If ever you go back, or they get you back, life will just be unbearable to you. Old Warner has branded you as a thief, and he’s mean enough to keep the advantage. Tell me, how can I help you?”
“Well, of course I’m pretty hungry,” said Dave with a laugh.
“I’ll fix that end of it,” promised Ned. “Just wait till father and the hired men get off to work in the field, and I’ll see that you get a first-class breakfast.”
Ned had to leave his friend just then, for some one was calling him from the house. A few minutes later Dave saw Mr. Towner and his hired men come to the stable, hitch up two teams and drive over beyond the trees lining the yard.
In half-an-hour Ned came up through the inside of the barn. He produced a package done up in paper, and then took two bottles from his pockets.
“Hot coffee, cold water, biscuits, some bacon, gingerbread and two hard boiled eggs,” he reported.
“Why, this is just famous,” declared Dave with zest.
“Here’s a book, too. Say, it will just suit your fancy,” added Ned, bringing the volume out from under his coat. “It’s a great story. I got it down at the library yesterday. I thought of you when I picked it out.”
“What is it called?” inquired Dave, his mouth full of good food.
“‘Modern Wonders of the Air’ – up to date, too. It tells all about balloons and early airships. Too scientific for me, but I’ll bet it will be easy as A. B. C. to you.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Dave, “but it will be right welcome. I’m thinking I had better keep hidden away for today, anyhow.”
“I should say you had,” assented Ned forcibly. “Why – but I haven’t had a chance to tell you until now.”
“What about?”
“Two of our hired men saw the sheriff and old Warner early this morning.”
“Are they still looking for me?”
“The officers and your guardian were out till daylight, scurrying around the country in every direction. The sheriff’s men have driven to three or four neighboring towns. They are watching the railroad depot, and there isn’t a soul in town who isn’t on the lookout for you.”
“I suppose that Mr. Warner has made me out to be a regular boy villain,” suggested Dave, looking serious.
“He has, but your friends know better. And soon as you are away safe and sure, I’ll just make it my special business to face old Warner down with the real facts. You’re not thinking of leaving this hide-out in the daytime, Dave?”
“I dare not take the risk of being seen now.”
“Then make yourself comfortable till I come home from school at noon,” said Ned.
Dave felt immensely better after his breakfast. He had a true friend to aid him and keep him posted, a safe hide-out, and an interesting book to read. Dave stole down to the lower floor of the barn after a spell and took a dip in the water trough. Then he resumed his comfortable couch on the sweet-smelling hay, and for two hours was engrossed in reading.
With what he knew, and what he desired, and the way circumstances seemed to be leading him, Dave felt that he was destined to soon know a good deal more than he did about air sailing.
He got to planning his course of flight when he started out again. Then he fell to dreaming, went to sleep, and had the delicious sensation of being aboard of a real airship, himself a full-fledged aviator.
CHAPTER V
MAKING OFF
“Now is your chance, Dave.”
“Yes, the coast looks clear.”
“How’s your foot?”
“That horse liniment from the stable has fixed it up all right. I think I could run as good as ever.”
“Which is mighty good – only don’t run into any of the sheriff’s friends.”
“I’ll try not to,” laughed Dave.
He was taking a farewell of his trusty and helpful friend, Ned. Dave had never known a truer one. He had kept under cover in the hayloft all that day. At noon time Ned had brought him a lunch and news. There was not much to report. Mr. Warner had told the officers that his truant ward would make for some “crazy airship place,” first thing. The sheriff, however, refused to go outside the county, unless he was paid for it. Old Warner was too stingy to advance any money. So, it looked as though once beyond the boundaries of the immediate