“Hello, old scout. This is Jack Hampton. Come a-flying. You’ll be an angel from heaven.”
Releasing the transmitter, Jack darted away, calling to Frank:
“Keep him till I get back. I’m going to round up Dad.”
Mr. Hampton was not in sight in the grove, and Jack dashed out into the hot sunshine and up the Great Road toward Korakum. Despite the oppressive heat in the pass, he ran as if he had wings on his heels. So great was his sense of elation at finding an airplane and a friendly pilot near enough to be of aid, though just how that aid could be employed he had not yet decided, that he would have been able to run all the way to Korakum without feeling fatigue.
As matters turned out, however, that was unnecessary. Before he had gone far, Jack saw Mr. Hampton appear in sight on camel-back. He waved an arm frantically for his father to hurry, and the latter, alarmed, put his animal to a trot.
“What’s happened now?” he called, as he drew nearer.
“Hurry along to the grove, Dad,” panted Jack. “I’ll follow as fast as I can. The radio’s working and we’ve got an angel on the wireless.”
“Jack,” demanded his father, “have you gone crazy? Out here in this sun without your helmet, too.”
“Crazy, yes, Dad,” Jack laughed merrily, “crazy with joy. Now do hurry along. Frank’s got word for you, and someone for you to talk with over the radio who’ll give you your best hour for many a day. No, I’m all right, really. Just go on to the grove.”
Seeing that Jack was really serious, despite his exuberance, Mr. Hampton wonderingly continued. When Jack arrived later he found his father seated at the phone.