Two hours later as David skirted the big landing field, he saw Cram, suitcase in hand, hurrying toward the taxi stand. David shouted, but he did not appear to hear. Breaking into a run, David overtook him. “What’s the decision?” he enquired. Cram’s face was livid; his lips twitched. “Ellison, they turned me down!” he announced. “Said I wasn’t scholastically and technically qualified. Politics in it somehow, of course. Or some personal grudge.” He swore roundly. “Why, that’s too bad!” said David. The other’s bitter disappointment roused a feeling of friendship that surprised him. “I’ll get even somehow,” said the other. “Why, all I wanted was to make a name for myself in something beside oil.” His eyes filled. “Well, that’s all right. You study, and come back next year, and try again. If you want any help or suggestions, write me. I’ll do what I can.” Cram did not reply at once. He smoothed his ruffled hair with a hand that shook. “I guess I’m like our Indians. Some grudges I never forget.” “Be a good Indian then, Cram, and don’t tomahawk anybody until you know just what’s what.” Cram sneered, and with a glare over David’s shoulder walked hastily away. David turned to see the cause of the venomous look. It was Red Ryan, whistling lustily. “Red, they kicked him out,” said David. “Not Cram!” “Yep, and gosh, he is sore! Wants to kill someone. Wants to be a bad Indian, in fact.” “Cram kicked out—” “Not really kicked,” said David. He repeated Cram’s report. “He’ll consider he’s been dynamited. Well, with my brother a priest, I’d do better not to rejoice as I could. But if he’s gone, he’s gone, and we’ve new jobs, and tough ones ahead of us.” CHAPTER III THE SILVER SHIP For nearly four years David had been an apprentice-student at the Lighter-than-Air School at Goodlow Field. During that time many changes had taken place. The school, at first housed in a single building on the Goodlow property, now had commodious brick buildings for classrooms, laboratories and dormitories. The school was run on an original scheme, which had proved most successful. It was co-operative. The students received free tuition and a small salary, in return for which they gave their labor. Any student falling below a certain grade was immediately dismissed. This benevolent scheme of education was made possible by the kindness of one of America’s greatest philanthropists, Mr. John Harrison Hammond, who added the strength of his millions to the Goodlow holdings at Ayre.