There was a sudden jar as though some giant had reached up to pluck the plane from the sky. Then it was over and they were soaring towards the clouds.
Mitchell, who had been watching their progress, relaxed and slumped down into the mail cockpit.
Ralph, perplexed by the last jarring sensation as they cleared the final barrier, wondered what had happened to the ship. The wing tips had not been damaged and the tail assembly was all right.
Determined to find out what had taken place, Ralph leaned far out of the cockpit in order to see the landing gear. One glance was sufficient. The left wheel had been smashed.
Ralph slid back into his seat and gave his attention to the handling of the plane. He had more than an hour in which to decide how he would land at Atkinson.
The sky cleared and the sun peeped over the horizon. The last snow of winter would soon be little more than a memory but it would be a bitter one for the air mail with two planes wrecked.
Atkinson was just waking up when Ralph roared over and circled the airport. He swooped low to attract attention and first on the field was Tim, who had been awakened by the sound of the plane.
“One wheel of Ralph’s ship is smashed!” cried Hunter.
“And I’ll bet he hasn’t got a whole lot of gas left,” said Tim.
“What will we do?” asked Carson, who had returned to the field.