Hiram gave up his seat to the rescued man, who sank back as if overcome with faintness and exhaustion. Hiram himself found a resting place on the platform supporting the two seats. "Is there anybody else in trouble?" Dave asked of their passenger. "No, no," replied the man. "The launch is gone up. Get me to land quick as you can. I'm afraid my arm is broken. It pains me terribly. I must get to a surgeon soon as possible." Dave got the hydroplane under way again. He was fortunate in striking a course that brought them back to the boat house in about an hour's time. The rescued man was somewhat revived by this time, and when the hydroplane was safely housed, Dave took his arm and piloted the way from the beach. "It is less than half a mile to the hangars," the young aviator explained. "When we get there we can find an automobile to take you into town." "It was when my launch struck a rock that I hurt my arm," the man explained. "Were you on board alone?" asked the curious Hiram. "Yes. I was driving ahead full speed, to get ashore out of the fog. I heard your machine, and was afraid I'd get run into. My launch ran into a reef with terrific force. I was thrown against it bulkhead, arm sprained or broken, nearly stunned, and then into the water." "But the launch, Mister?" questioned the interested Hiram anxiously. "Smashed. I don't know if I could locate it again in the fog. I couldn't use my hurt arm, and I fired my revolver, yelled, and gave up when your machine came along." "Where did you come from, Mister?" pressed the persistent Hiram. "Why--well, I came from up north. Own a launch. Had some business this way, and got well on my way till the craft struck." Dave noticed as the man spoke that it was in a hesitating, evasive way. He seemed anxious to change the conversation, for he said: "You are taking me to the Columbus aero field?" "Yes, we belong there," answered Dave. "Some people there named Dawson?" "Yes, father and son." "That's it. Here, now?" "Oh, yes, they follow the different meets." "Why, then, say," observed the man, "if you will just get me up against them, I shall be pleased. You see, they're friends of mine. They'll take care of me." Dave gave the man a look. Hiram pulled a face at him behind his back. That settled it with Hiram. In his mind he was sure that anybody who knew the Dawsons in a friendly way could not possibly amount to much. The man did not mention his name. He seemed to care nothing whatever for the fate of the launch. He barely thanked Dave, as, reaching the aero grounds, our hero led him near to the headquarters of the man for whom the Dawsons were working. "You'll find your friends over there," he said. "All right," nodded the man he had rescued. "Lucky I met you. Thanks." "Say, Dave Dashaway, now what do you think of that!" burst out Hiram, as the man got out of earshot. "Think of what, Hiram?" inquired the young aviator. "Friend of the Dawsons!"