Linda directed her course south, aiming to reach a larger airport before noon. Here she made a landing, refueled, and again inquired for news. A yellow biplane, it seemed, had been sighted that morning, flying low, going west towards the coast of the Gulf of California. Whether it was the Sky Rocket or not, no one could say. But at least it was a clue to follow.
“I told you we’d have to cross those mountains,” remarked Linda. “But please don’t start to worry about them yet.”
Linda changed her direction and headed the ship west, and they flew a monotonous course for a couple of hours. The sun glared down upon them, and the earth below looked parched and barren. So different from their own Ohio country in the month of October.
They reached the mountains at last, and after assuring herself that there was plenty of gas in her reserve tanks, Linda flew dauntlessly towards them. As she approached, she noted a heavy cloud bank hovering directly above the mountains, and extending so far on either side that she gave up all thought of going around it. Instead she put the ship into a sharp climb and headed resolutely into it. She held the climb until she was several thousand feet higher to make sure of clearing the mountain safely, but as they had failed at this height to rise above the cloud, she leveled off.
Grayness was all about them, enveloping them like a blanket, and cutting off their view of either the mountains or the sun. In her powerlessness to see in this unknown region, Linda suddenly experienced a queer choking sensation, brought on by her helplessness. Scolding herself for this momentary weakness, she pulled back the joy-stick and nosed the Ladybug still higher up. But climb as she might, she could not get away from that cloud.
Dot, however, did not appear to be frightened at all. Wasn’t Linda always able to get the best of almost any bad situation, even if it were an unknown mountain range in a mist? She was singing cheerfully to herself, when all of a sudden, the words died on her lips.
Another plane was approaching—was almost on top of them! They had not been able to see it, because of the cloud, or to hear it, because of the noise of their own motor. But there it was, rushing headlong at them with the relentless speed of an infuriated animal. Dot held her breath and shut her eyes.
Linda saw it too, and flashed on her lights as a signal. But it was too late for signals; only a miracle could save them. With a sudden sharp turn she banked to the left, and went into a side-slip, dropping the plane fifty feet. The other plane passed over their heads, barely missing the rotor blades.
The perspiration had collected on her face in beads, and her hands were hot and moist. It had been a narrow escape!
But it evidently wasn’t over. Or could it be another plane? For the thing was almost upon her again, as if it, too, had dropped on purpose. She couldn’t believe her ears. Was it that girl—and had she recognized the rotor blades of the autogiro, and was trying to force Linda to land?