They climbed into the cockpits and Linda went through the usual motions of starting the engine. But, though the self-starter responded to her efforts, the motor refused to take hold. There would be a little spurt, then silence again. Patiently Linda tried over and over; each time the engine failed to respond.
With a greater sense of fear than Amy had experienced even in that terrific whirlwind, she clung desperately to the sides of the cockpit.
“Linda, what’s the matter?” she gasped, hoarsely.
“Only a faulty spark plug, I think,” responded the other, cheerfully. “I can easily fix it.”
“No, no,” said the other girl, with assurance. “I know what it is—it’s that evil spirit—that ghost in the tower!”
“Now Amy, be sensible,” returned Linda, lightly. But when she glanced at the girl’s white, drawn face, she realized how intensely she was suffering, and a real fear took possession of her, too—a deadly fear that the child would lose her reason as well as her memory.
“Linda, you don’t know! You can’t know!” Amy leaned over and gripped her companion’s hand. “If we stay here after dark, something dreadful will happen to us!”
“Well, we’re not going to stay here that long,” Linda assured her, with a great effort to keep her voice calm and natural. “Now jump out and help me.”
As fast as she could, Linda went to work to locate and replace the missing spark plug, and all the while she tried to keep Amy occupied with little jobs to help her. But it was pitiful to watch the young girl’s trembling hands, her white face, her shaking body. She was more of a hindrance than a help, yet Linda worked on as fast as she could, desperately hoping that nothing else would prove to be wrong.
The tests and the work took longer than any job Linda had done since she had taken her course at the ground school, and it was after six o’clock when the engine finally responded. Linda heaved a deep sigh of relief, as she turned to announce the good news to Amy.