The Flying Reporter

ver the Gravey

ard, with the wind in his face, instead of starting eastward, with the breeze at his back, he would hardly have dared to attempt it. But inasmuch as he did not have to make a landing i

ed his landing lights, made sure his flares were hooked, ready for release, and glanced at his instruments. Then he speede

had risen a hundred feet in the air the bright lights of the airport began to be blurred. As Jimmy passed directly over the great hangar, after circling, he could barel

after a time, but this fog-bank bade fair to cover every inch of the four hundred and fifty miles or so to his home field. The possibilities of

y bit of flying ability he possessed to meet the situation. At two or three hundred feet e

ss his eyes darted to his turn-and-bank indicator, then to his air speed indicator. Occasionally he glanced at his engine instruments, to see that

ther, Jimmy had to bring his ship back to a level keel, for the moving steel ball showed that he was beginning to dip to one side or the other. Sense of balance told him little or nothing; and had it not be

is ship was close to the beacon itself. As he traveled onward, Jimmy knew, the signal would grow fainter and fainter, for during the first half of the flight to Bellefonte he would

beacon. All the time he was trying to check his position. He watched his air speed indicator. He watched his tachometer, which indicated his revolutions per minute. He watched his clock. He checked one against the other. With a twenty-mile wind at his back, Jimmy figured he must be making fully

ast on the return trip as he had driven it in coming west. It was too hard on th

t, he shot up above the fog. The night was clear as crystal. Above him twinkled innumerable stars. With a deep sigh of relief Jimmy climbed a little higher, then straightened out and rode on level keel. Below him spread endless masses of cloud, more wonderful

hich he was not aware were also at work to try to make his progress safe. Hardly had Jimmy

t left here, heading for Long Island. The message will reach caretakers at beacons all along the route. Tell all caretakers to report his progress to me as

or teletype machine, which reproduced the message on similar machines at Bellefonte and Hadley Field and other stations as fast as it was written. In no time, therefore, these two Air Mail stations and the caretakers at various l

tened intently, though there was little they could tell him about the weather that he did not already know. The usual, stereotyped broadcast contained no reference to the wind. That was the one thing Jimmy wanted to know about. A moment later he heard the Cleveland radio

e to fly tonight, but now that I am up in the air he's doing all he can for

was ordered to Cleveland, Jimmy had succeeded in having a sending set installed in the plane, thus bringin

of the Morning Press, speaking. Cleveland weather forecast received. Also special notice as to force and direction

ried to figure out his position. Suddenly he became aware that the buzzing in his ears had altered. No longer did he hear the regular "dah, dah, dah, dah, dah," wh

ing to the southwest, it has blown me to the northea

tening. "Dot dah, dot dah, dot dah," sang the ear phones, but presently the s

if I didn't have this radio set. I tell you, a compass doesn't help much when there's a cross-wind. Half a dozen years ago, before there were any radio bea

en so much trouble on his account. He would have been still more pleased could he have known to what extent the weather man was laboring in his behalf. Fo

ver Jimmy's face. "I'm right over Brookville," he muttered. Quickly he glanced at his clock, then made a rapid calculation. "I

e vertical radio beams are audible only for the brief spaces of time it takes a plane to sweep over the stations sending them. The present signal was gone almost as soon as Jimmy heard it, but it gave him a world o

d his plane back to the path. Everything seemed to be going well. His clock told him that he should be nearing Bellefonte, the half-way point bet

r, that he must be near Bellefonte. The radio beacon signals came so loudly. Suddenly, above the steady buzz of the directional beacon came

ng Press. As nearly as we can judge by the sound of your engine, you are directly over the field. Fog continues bad throughout Pennsylvania. Wind remains unch

eaking to Bellefonte," he said. "Your message received. Thanks ever so much.

dley to get latest information and talk

ut ten o'clock. Please ask the radio man there to listen in for me about tha

he had no fear of losing his way. Had he been left to reckon out his position himself, he would have been worried and uncertain, no matter how regularly his propeller turned, no matter how accurate his clock. But with the radio keeping him on

ountain rearing its great bulk directly in the line of his flight, where he should turn to the right and shoot through the pass. But to-night he was not shooting passes. He was thousands of feet above the pass. Suddenly, for the merest fraction of a second, he thought he saw a gleam

coal field, where the earth is as rough and rugged as the outside of a black walnut shell. But

. He could see absolutely nothing. He wanted to see nothing but the instruments before him,

ur, three quarters of an hour at most, the worst part of the trip would be over. The Pennsylvania mountains would be passed, and underfoot would lie th

e should pass Elysburg, just ahead, the land would rise up sharp again, in hills twelve hundred feet high. Beyond them was lower land once more, and then the ridges climbed up, just before Ringtown was reached, until their summits towere

sponse from the engine. Instead, it beat slower and slower. It was making twelve hundred revolutions per minute. It fell to nine, then seven hundred. His ship slowed dangerously. He began to lose altitude. There was nothing to do but come down. Otherwise he

the densest sort of fog. Already he was far down in the mist clouds. Vision was absolutely cut off. For a

Ringtown. He must keep his ship in the air until he could reach that field. If only his trouble had occurred a bit sooner, he could have made the field at Numidia. The marker b

Could he get over them? With his face drawn and serious Jimmy glanced at his altimeter. He was still well above that height, bu

said firmly and evenly. "I am between Numidia and Ringtown. My oil line has gone bad. My engine is failing. I am l

hey might be listening to-night, because of the very bad weather. But Jimmy was reckoning without Beverly Graham. The moment he found that Jimmy had a sendi

ne and tried to get a connection with a man at Ringtown who had control over the field. The telephone operator was a long time in getting the connection. When fin

he saw what the weather was like, he doubted very much if Jimmy would attempt to return to New York. But if Jimmy did fly over, Johnnie wanted to signal him. He wanted his old friend to know that he had rece

ood that stood close to one edge of his father's farm, and almost adjoining the landing field. He had thrown coal oil on the p

on with Jimmy as the latter neared Ringtown. Even now he was at his radio, listening. He had been there for some time. He had caught the weather forecast from Bellefonte. He felt sure that if Jimmy had left Cleveland, he ought to be nearing Ringtown. So h

Johnnie Lee speaking. I heard your call for help. I have a big bonfire ready to light. I will touch it off at once. Ma

ht your fire quick. I'm coming down fast, but I believe I'm

ields to his pile of wood, heedless of the dark and the fog. He knew the way perfectly and his fla

l-soaked pile of wood caught fire. The flames soared upward. The fire grew intense. The oily wood burned with terrific heat. The glare of the flames lighted the entire region. Even through the fog the flare

heap shut out every trace of the hum of a propeller. For a moment Johnnie stood near his beacon, vainly straining his ears for some further trace of an airplane. Then he ran hastily off to one

dly, unmistakably. Once more the sound died away. But Johnnie knew he had not been mistaken. He had heard an airplane. Sudd

ng down with a rush, flaming fiercely. The cloud of fog was all aglow with the brilliant light. It shone even brighter than Johnnie's bonfire. Regardless of what might happen to him if the plane exploded, Johnnie rushed toward the spot where it was apparently goi

was certain he knew what he was looking at. The luminous spots were the landing lights of a descending plane. They seemed to be jumping right at him. Johnnie knew the plane was coming straight toward him. It was almost upon him. He leaped

e to rest. A figure stepped from the

!" he

" came the answe

e. Thank God yo

hands and s