“What are you looking so gloomy about?” asked Ralph Graves, who had been Tim’s flying companion on many an aerial adventure.
“This weather is enough to give anyone a grouch,” replied Tim. “Here it is, almost spring, and we have to get a week of sloppy weather that spoils all our plans. That job of overhauling the Good News and installing the new motor will be done today but it won’t do us any good. With weather like this we won’t get any flying assignments.”
“I know just how you feel,” sympathized Ralph, “Ive been out chasing the fire trucks on a couple of chimney fires and I’ve slopped through all the mud and slush I’m going to for one day. Gosh! But I’d like to hop over a few clouds in the Good News.”
The telephone on Tim’s desk rang and he turned to answer. He was smiling when he swung back and faced Ralph.
“Dash off your copy,” he said. “Carl Hunter, the manager at the airport, just phoned that the Good News is ready for a test flight. If we cut lunch this noon we’ll have time for a short hop. What say?”
“Don’t ask foolish questions,” grinned Ralph. He hurried to his typewriter where his fingers were soon beating a tattoo on flying keys as he wrote the story of the fires.
Ralph finished his story, turned it in at the copy desk, and was on his way to rejoin Tim when a deep rumble shook the building.
“Earthquake!” shouted one of the copy boys as he dove under a desk.
The windows rattled in their frames and the entire building shook as the terrific noise continued. Then a great pall of black smoke could be seen mounting skyward. The building ceased its trembling, the copy boy scrambled out from under the desk and the telephones voiced their sharp cries.
Tim was the first to answer. From his attitude others in the news room sensed some major disaster. The managing editor, George Carson, human dynamo of the paper, ran to Tim’s desk and leaned close to the receiver. He could hear the words which were being shouted into the transmitter at the other end of the line.