Just as the powerful plane drew near, Joe Arnold let out a burst of fire. Then he leaned far over to see Terry’s plane falling in a mass of flames.
But Skybird was not there. His fire had missed. The girl had side-slipped and then straightened out, while Bud at the controls had allowed his plane to shoot past and into the bank of fog.
Terry made the most of that breathing time. She did not wait to see whether Joe’s plane had dived into the sea, but with throttle wide open she headed for land.
The girl kept her plane high above the glistening floor of fog. Half an hour slipped by and still no sign of the pursuing plane.
Again Terry zoomed skyward and found what she was looking for. Far below her to the right was a break in the fog and through it she could see the green earth below.
Terry headed for the opening and slipped through. Below that thick bank of cloud stretched the green fields dotted with towns and villages. It looked good. “Where are we Allan?” she cried.
Allan studied the terrain. “We’re near home,” he said as he recognized the different landmarks. “That’s Beacon Hill to the right!”
Terry laughed with relief. “Oh boy, let’s go!” she cried.
With the tense nerve strain over, Terry suddenly felt herself go weak. The plane wobbled under her control but only for the fraction of a second. Then Terry went straight for home.
Never had the Dick Mapes Flying Field looked so good to her as it did when she banked and circled for a landing.