“Called you right away,” added the field manager, “for I knew you’d want the story. But on top of that, I wanted you to make the trip. I figure you’re one of the best pilots around here to go out on a mission like this.”
Tim grinned and gave Hunter a good-natured shove. The driver of Ralph’s taxi was turning his cab around and preparing to start back for the city when Tim’s cry stopped him.
“Wait a few minutes,” he ordered, “and I’ll have you take a story to the News office.” The driver agreed and shut off the motor of his cab.
“Check up on the plane, Ralph,” said Tim, “and see that we have plenty of equipment for an emergency landing in the mountains—light, stout cable, an axe, some food and water and a first aid kit. While you’re doing that I’ll go into Hunter’s room and write a story to send to the office.”
In less than fifteen minutes Tim had hammered out a column story that fairly glittered with the sharpness of its sentences and the clearness of his simple, powerful English.
The air mail was lost somewhere in the Great Smokies, and the flying reporter, in the Lark, would soon be away on the search. Tim smiled to himself as he thought how Carson could play up the story. Now if they could only find the missing plane, it would be one of the best stories of the year.
Tim hurried out of the office and handed his story to the waiting taxi driver. That done, he turned toward the line where five planes were being warmed up for the search.
The flying reporter walked over to the airmen who were grouped around the field manager. He greeted Sparks, Bronson, White and Wilkins, all mail and express pilots—fine fellows every one of them; lean bronzed and alive to the zest of flying. But now there were more serious lines to their faces and it was a determined group of young men who heard Hunter outline the plans for the search. Ralph hastened up and joined them just as the field chief gave his final instructions.
“Buddy Perkins, who was on the mail, went over Newton on time,” said Hunter, “and he must have run into the storm about half an hour later. That would put him almost up to the divide but with the wind against him all the way, he probably didn’t make Billy Goat. I’ve marked out a map with the section each one of you is to cover. When you run short of fuel about noon, drop down to Newton, refuel, eat and exchange notes. I hope you won’t have to go on out again, hope you’ll locate Perkins by noon. It’s light enough to takeoff now, fellows, so get going and good luck.”
Tim and Ralph took their places in the Good News, which was the third ship on the line. It was just light enough to distinguish the fence which marked the far end of the field.