Now the plane was sideslippin’ away from the flames; it tore off them, and they disappeared.
“And Jane knows her stuff!” I shouted.
Once havin’ snapped away from the danger, Jane dove at full throttle, but the fire flashed out again, worse than before. As soon as it did, Jane sideslipped again, and the wind put the fire out. This time when she recovered she banked steep, gradually losin’ altitude and made for the T. Mushin’ out, she cut the gun, and the Alton glided for the sand. The fire popped out again, not so bad this time, but bad enough!
The burnin’ ship trundled in, and before it stopped Ned Knight was out of it. Jane jumped right behind him. Ned scooped up sand and threw it on the fire, and Jane worked just as fast. Mr. Alton and me and some of the other boys ran for the ship, but by the time we got there, the fire was all out.
Ned Knight, plenty mad, stepped up to me chin first. “Benny, your job is to keep these ships in trim, ain’t it—’specially this one, that’s goin’ to fly the race—or was! Then how come the timin’ is off, and fire got sucked back into the carburetor? I’ll bet my hat that the screen and drain is in bad shape, too, you—. Good gosh!”
“Well, I got it out all right, didn’t I?” inquired Jane, who seemed to think that any scrape wasn’t very bad if she got out of it alive.
“You sure did! You got us out like a veteran. Jane, you’re all right. Benny, dang you—”
I wasn’t wastin’ time standin’ there and bein’ bawled out. I put my head into that motor, and it took only a minute for me to find out that some monkey business had been goin on—grease-monkey business! The engine had been tampered with. Our pet Alton! The ship we were dressin’ for the race! And with Jane in it! Lord!
I whirled around and barked out my troubles. And then there was plenty of quiet for a minute.