Tim warmed up the Good News and motioned for the ranchman and Curly to climb into the forward cockpit.
“Better strap yourselves in,” he warned them. “This ship steps out and we’re going places. If we happen to hit some rough air you’ll think you’re riding a bronco.”
Curly grinned as though he thought Tim was joking but the flying reporter insisted that the cowboy strap himself in the plane.
The Good News was pulsating with power and Tim decided to give his new friends a thrill or two.
He opened the throttle and the plane dusted down the field like a scared jackrabbit. Tim pulled back hard on the stick and the powerful motor took them almost straight into the sky. Up and up they spiraled, clawing for altitude and getting it by leaps and bounds.
Five hundred, seven-fifty, one thousand, fifteen hundred and then two thousand. They were flashing away from the earth at a dizzying pace. When the plane was about the two thousand foot level, Tim levelled off and headed in the direction of the Circle Four.
The air speed indicator started to climb. There was a favoring wind to boost them along and the needle advanced steadily. They breezed along at a hundred and eighty miles an hour and when Tim pushed the speed up to one hundred and ninety miles an hour Curly turned around. His face was white and scared looking. He motioned for Tim to slow down and the flying reporter shut off the motor.
“I don’t want to get home in a minute,” yelled the cowboy. “Take your time, take your time. All I’ve got to do when we get home is chase cows.”
Tim grinned and shook his head.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he cried. “If you think a horse can buck, watch this.”