CHAPTER I
The Skybird Hops Off
With a loud sputtering roar, something like Terry Mapes’ own feelings at that moment, Skybird, her little blue-and-gold airplane sprang forward and taxied over the flying field, taking the air gracefully as a leaping horse, under the guidance of its youthful pilot.
Terry Mapes was working off steam. Half angry, half frightened, the girl knew that a flight in her plane was the quickest way to get hold of her nerves and make her head clear for thinking what was to be done.
“Those boys!” she muttered between close-pressed lips. “What’s happened to them now? Starting out for a flight to Paris and not even getting to Newfoundland!”
Over and over again that terrifying report, “Missing,” kept ringing in her ears. Allan and Syd missing! She could picture a crack-up easily for the two boys. While they knew how to handle their planes skilfully, they were inclined to be reckless and were always taking chances.
Pulling back on the stick, Terry sent the plane zooming, one thousand feet, two thousand! Far beneath her she could see her father’s flying field at Elmwood, and from that distance it looked as if the hangars had been flattened against the ground. Beyond was the Sound, a broad strip of water with what appeared to be toy boats on its glassy smooth surface.
Far to the right were estates, wooded tracts of land, small towns and villages connected by tiny thread-like highways to the large city in the distance.
Terry loved to fly. She was never so happy as when she was zooming to a lofty height. Her brown eyes were glowing, her ivory skin was flushed to rose as she handled the controls of her little plane. Terry claimed that the higher she flew above the earth, the better she could think and plan. But today Terry’s brain was in a whirl. She could think of a dozen different kinds of accidents, any one of which might have happened to the boys.
Allan Graham and Syd Ames had started out on the first lap of their transatlantic flight. They had been reported all along the route until well over the Canadian border. Then they had disappeared, been swallowed up.
And at Dick Mapes Flying Field, their friends anxiously awaited word.