Dugan’s crippled plane was a little ahead and above the tri-motor. The air speed indicator in the big monoplane pointed to 80 miles an hour. Tim took a fresh grip on the controls while Ralph and Bennett made sure that their ropes were ready.
The gap between the two ships gradually closed. Tim was handling the great tri-motor like a veteran.
The daredevil’s plane was now just ahead and a few feet above him. Dugan was looking back at the monoplane and handling his own little plane with the skill of a magician. They were almost together; then Dugan’s plane was hidden by the great wing of the tri-motor. Tim moved the controls slightly and held his breath. The monoplane rose gently, there was a rasping bump as the daredevil’s ship, minus its landing gear, settled on top of the great gray monoplane.
With a shout, Ralph and Bennett swarmed out of the cabin and onto the wings. While Dugan nursed his motor carefully and kept his ship plastered tight against the wing of the tri-motor, the other two lashed the little biplane down. In the cockpit of the big ship Tim was fighting with his controls.
Carefully Tim pushed the big gray bird along while the men on the wing hurried to complete their task. A careless maneuver, and the biplane might be dislodged and brush them into space. After an eternity for Tim, they scrambled into the cabin with news that they had done everything possible to lash the damaged plane.
Again it was up to Tim. Slowly the tri-motor drifted earthward. Perhaps Tim was the only one of the four who fully realized their new danger and he kept his own counsel and nerved himself for the task ahead. But he couldn’t help wondering whether the damaged plane was lashed securely. If there was very much slack in the ropes the ship above would bounce when they landed, smash through the great wing and crush them in a trap that would carry them to their deaths at sixty miles an hour, their landing speed.
While the others were laughing over the thrill of the trip, Tim held their lives in his hands. He was tired, dead tired. The good will trip had been fatiguing and the strain of his sensational landing earlier in the afternoon had taken more of his strength than he had realized. But it was too late now to turn the controls over to Bennett. They were at the edge of the field. Tim killed speed with every trick on the list. The roar of the crowd came to his ears as the tri-motor, with “Daredevil” Dugan’s plane resting on top, passed overhead.
The ground loomed before Tim’s tired eyes as he swung around into the wind for the landing. The shadows of late afternoon were deceptive and his eyes burned from the strain. He felt himself slipping, losing control; then with a mighty effort he came back. The lives of the other three in the plane, as well as his own, depended on his skill. And he couldn’t crack up in front of that great crowd! Tim gave the controls a final twist and placed his trust in the guardian angel who looks after flyers. The heavy under-carriage smacked the ground. Tim heard the wing creak and groan in protest at the weight of Dugan’s plane. Involuntarily he ducked.
But the wing held and Tim brought the tri-motor to a stop a little past the middle of the field.
When Tim reached the door of the tri-motor he found Dugan waiting for him.