On this particular spring morning, Andy was in his office just outside the hangar, pouring over the set of blueprints for the big gondola which was being assembled for the forward end of the dirigible. He was engrossed in the blueprints and failed to hear Bert Benson, who was to be chief radio operator on the Goliath, enter the room.
“Hello, Andy,” said Bert quietly.
The unexpected greeting startled the young aircraft engineer and he jumped involuntarily. When he saw that his visitor was Bert he grinned sheepishly.
“Sorry I jumped like that,” he said, “but we’ve been having so many mishaps in the last two weeks my nerves are on edge.”
“I know it,” replied Bert gravely. “It’s been just one thing after another. First something goes wrong here and then something turns up in another part of the plant. Seems as though there was a hoodoo on this valley.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a hoodoo,” said Andy, “but we’ve certainly been having our share of tough breaks. I’ll be glad when Dad and Captain Harkins get back from Akron. Then we’ll be able to give more of our time to closer supervision of the plant and these accidents may be stopped.”
The words were barely out of Andy’s mouth when Bert, who had been looking toward the far end of the hangar, gripped the young engineer hard.
“Look, Andy,” he cried, “one of the doors at the other end of the hangar is opening!”
Andy looked in the direction Bert pointed. There was no mistake. One of the huge “orange peel” doors which sealed the ends of the hangar was swinging back on the railroad track on which it was mounted.
“Something’s gone wrong down there,” said Andy sharply. “A crew is working on top of that door this morning. They may be brushed off if that door isn’t stopped at once.”