Then above it all came the sound of a second explosion and the Good News stood up on its tail. Tim was thankful that they had used their safety belts for he was almost thrown from the cockpit.
Out of the smoke hurtled a great piece of steel. Tim heard Ralph scream a warning but he was powerless. The Good News was out of control.
Fascinated by the sight of the great projectile which was approaching them with terrifying speed, Tim lived an eternity. Actually it might have been a second, probably it was less.
The Good News, falling tail downward, missed the deadly piece of steel by less than two feet.
They were past one danger only to be confronted with another even more horrible to contemplate than the one they had just escaped. Ralph, his eyes burning in his smoke-blackened face, was looking back at Tim, trusting that the young flyer would be able to pull the Good News out of the tailspin.
With a last despairing effort Tim crashed his fist against the throttle. It leaped ahead a good inch. It had jammed in the emergency and he had not noticed it. More fuel flooded into the laboring cylinders and the motor, its full power unlashed, lifted them almost vertically into the sky.
When they were out of danger and in the cool, clean air, Tim brought the nose of the plane down and they headed for the airport.
The Good News looked to be ready to take first prize at a fire sale. The entire ship was grimy from the heavy oil smoke and the dope on the wings and fuselage was curled and cracked from the terrific heat.
Tim nosed down over the airport and idled his motor as they skimmed to a perfect three point landing and rolled to a stop in front of their hangar.
Carl Hunter ran to their plane.