Tim looked up for the tri-motor. It was circling, waiting for him to land.
The flying reporter lifted the Good News up again for he was going too fast to attempt a landing. He swung around and then dropped down on the field, checking his speed with a delicate hand lest he bump hard enough to set off the “eggs” cradled in the forward cockpit.
The Good News rolled to a stop in front of its hangar.
Carson, Hunter, Ralph and a group of mechanics were waiting for Tim. They were white and shaky for they had seen how death had ridden on the wings of the two incoming planes only a minute before. “Tim, Tim,” cried Ralph in a choked voice, “I thought you were a goner.”
“So did I,” admitted Tim, and for once he found it hard to smile.
“I’ll report those flying yahoos,” stormed the usually mild-mannered Hunter. “They’ll be grounded for thirty days for pulling a reckless landing like that. You had the right of way and they attempted to cut in on you. Here they come now.”
The tri-motor had come to a stop on the concrete apron in front of the administration building and its pilots sprinted toward the No. 5 hangar.
They were red-faced and shaking with anger.
“What’s the idea?” stormed the first one as he addressed Tim. “You crazy, flying fool, you almost wrecked us. I’ve a good notion to beat up on you.”
“Shut up!” The words whipped through the night and the angry pilot turned to face the field manager.