The two planes circled lazily over the airport and when several minutes elapsed and Ralph still remained hidden in the cockpit, Tim felt new alarm. He let the Lark drop behind the training plane, then gave it the gun and climbed above Ralph’s ship so he could look down into the cockpit.
He could see Ralph, doubled up on the floor at one side of the cockpit, controlling the plane as best he could with his hands. Ralph evidently heard the deeper roar of the motor of Tim’s plane for he looked up and managed to wave one hand. His face was twisted with pain.
The flying reporter waved back at his chum, then threw the Lark into a sideslip and plunged madly for the ground.
Hunter heard the thunder of the Lark as Tim sent it earthward in a power dive and was waiting for the flying reporter when he checked his plane on the concrete apron in front of the office.
“Something’s happened to Ralph,” yelled Tim. “He’s slumped down in one corner of the cockpit. Evidently he can’t use his legs for he’s handling the controls with his hands. We’ve got to get him down some way or he’ll crash sure.”
Hunter glanced at his watch. “He’s been up nearly an hour and a half and I didn’t put much gas in that ship,” he muttered half to himself and half to Tim.
Tim slipped into the forward cockpit and yelled for Hunter to take the controls. A mechanic helped them whip the Lark around and get it headed down the field.
Hunter opened the throttle wide. The Lark had its tail off the ground in a hundred feet and in less than five hundred feet was pointing its nose into the sky.
While they fought for altitude, Tim slipped the harness of his parachute from his shoulders. He couldn’t afford to be hampered by anything as cumbersome as a parachute if his plan to save Ralph from crashing was to succeed.
Tim and Hunter quickly overtook Ralph’s plane and that young man, despite the seriousness of his predicament, managed to grin at them as they jockeyed for a position directly over him.