“They’re going to get a real thrill,” he said savagely, smacking his clenched hands together.
Tim looked at him curiously. McDowell outwardly wasn’t nervous yet he appeared to be laboring under a great strain. Could he suspect Tommy’s real identity? The question burned itself into Tim’s mind. If McDowell was suspicious he might fake the crash and after Tommy went over the side, roar away in the trainer. That might explain why the old ship had such a powerful motor.
Tim stepped over to Tommy’s ship and climbed up so he could yell into Tommy’s ear.
“I don’t like the way McDowell looks,” he said. “Be careful.”
Tommy nodded.
“I’m not taking any chances this afternoon. The first thing that looks funny will find me going over the side in the chute.”
The loud speakers were blaring. The field was being cleared and the tension in the crowd increased.
“In the Number one plane,” boomed the announcer, “is Ace McDowell. In the Number two ship is Tommy Larkin. Here they come.”
The flyers gunned their motors and the old ships, gleaming under their coat of hastily applied paint, rolled out on the ramp.
A mighty roar went up from the crowd. The field was finally clear of the passenger carrying ships. The signalman in the control tower waved his flag at Tommy. The young flyer opened his throttle, the venerable craft waggled its wings, felt the call of the skies, and rolled smoothly down the runway. Tommy took his time in getting off the field. With as little strain as possible on the ancient wings he lifted his plane into the air.