Had it been any other plane than an autogiro, Linda realized that it would long ago have been hurled mercilessly through space, probably upside down. But the little “Ladybug” was gallantly battling the winds, and Linda prayed fervently that she might get it under control.
Again it rocked violently, and with a shiver of agony, she turned to the tube to tell Amy to step off. Perhaps, she thought, she could stay with it herself a little longer. Just as she was about to speak, the autogiro righted itself again and the rain began to fall in torrents, wetting them thoroughly, but dispelling the worst of the cloud. A moment later the joy stick responded to Linda’s touch; the plane made headway out of the grip of the wind. The young aviatrix breathed a prayer of thanksgiving.
They continued to fly onward amid the driving rain for some distance until the storm was spent at last, and Linda came low to take a look at the landscape. It was Amy who first spotted the river.
“There it is, Linda!” she cried joyously, as one who sees a familiar sight after a long sojourn in a foreign country. “The Fox River! I know it! I’m positive of it! Keep right on—past Lake—Lake—I forget the name.”
“Lake Waupin?” shouted Linda, consulting her map.
“Yes! Yes! How did you know?”
“By my map. How did you?”
“It’s where I lived. I’m sure.”
“Of course!” cried Linda. “This is somewhere near the spot where you met with your accident. I remember Dot and I flew over Lake Waupin, though we didn’t know its name then. But where is there any house around here? It looks so desolate.”
“Keep on going—follow the river. I’ll watch for a tower.”