“What happened to you? Who did you meet?” Jim asked quickly.
“I don’t know what happened and I didn’t meet anyone,” Bob answered emphatically. “Is there any chance of saving her?”
“No!” Silently they stood together as the hungry flames, like a pack of ravenous wolves, consumed the helpless plane.
“Gee,” Bob said finally then sank down and buried his head on his arm, while his body shook in a brave effort to keep back the sobs.
“Don’t take it so hard, Buddy,” Jim urged, but he wasn’t feeling any too good himself.
“Gosh, I—I couldn’t feel worse if it was one of the h—horses, or t—the dog. She—gosh, she was a dandy bird, Jim—nobody could ever have more fun than she gave us—it was more like having a good pal that you could always rely on, than just a machine,” Bob choked.
“I know it, old man. I’d mighty like to find out what started her cooking. Have any engine trouble?” Jim asked.
“Not a bit. She ran like velvet, was going great when I was diving. It wasn’t until I saw you doing a wind-mill with your arms that I thought of grief, then I had an idea it might be the landing gear I’d dropped and you wanted me to look out. I didn’t find anything wrong until I saw the smoke in the reflection mirror.”
“Come on over and we’ll see if we can discover anything.” They made their way in stunned silence, threw snow over the flames, and carefully examined all that was left of the little bus, but she was too far gone, or they were too inexperienced to locate treachery.
“When we get home, let’s look over the plans. Maybe we can find a spot—some place where it might have been weak—” Bob proposed.