“I suppose Gordon came down in the night and sneaked off,” Bob suggested.
“They haven’t any idea of what happened to him. One of the airmen saw the plane roaring along and he rode beside her just for companionship. When he looked for the pilot, Gordon, the cock-pit was empty. The fellow thought he was seeing things. Then in a couple of minutes our engine conked, stopped, and began to go down, but she spun around in grand style, going forward, and finally she dropped in a nice smooth section of the plain. The mail-man followed, but she was absolutely empty when he investigated. There was a bag of things on the floor, everything seemed just as it should be, but there wasn’t a trace of the fellow who started off in her,” Jim explained.
“Isn’t that rather amazing?” Mrs. Austin inquired.
“It surely is, Mom. I say, Buddie, was the parachute there?”
“Two; one on the front seat and one on the back.”
“The third one was gone. Gosh, Gordon must have hopped overboard when he saw he couldn’t get very far. Did his exit before anyone could start a search for him. She’s one grand little bus—intelligent animal, to make her own landing all by her lonesome. That ought to make Kramer feel pretty cocky—some talking point for his advertising department.”
“Better run up and tell him. He was feeling badly last night over the loss, and now that the machine will—”
“Be coming home to roost,” Bob grinned. “I’ll break the good news to him gently.” He raced upstairs to tell the salesman, who was delighted and no end set up over the achievement of the machine. While they were discussing the matter, the Box-Z limousine drove up, and Jim went to admit the caller. He discovered that it was Zargo.
“I had to be in this direction and Don Haurea asked me to stop and see if you wish to return with me.”
“Thanks a lot. I’ll be ready in a jiffy. How is Jute?”