“I never want another ride like that one,” said Bill.
“I will never know how you missed some of those ridges and hills,” said Earl Simmons. “Sometimes I never saw them until you had turned the plane and they were under the wing. Then when that extra heavy flash of lighting whizzed past the plane, I thought that we were surely hit. It didn’t miss us by more than ten feet.”
“The worst part of it was that it blinded me so that I did not see a hill directly ahead,” replied Bill. “I came near running into that hill without knowing that it was there. I rubbed my eyes to get them back to normal and there it was almost on top of us. The old bus certainly came around beautifully when I kicked her over.”
An automobile drove up to the side of the field and someone started across the field toward the plane.
“I never thought that we would have any spectators a day like this,” said Bill.
The man approaching had on a raincoat and large hat, so that they could not see his features. Furthermore, neither one was interested in the identity of the man, as they did not expect to see any friends on such a miserable day.
“Hello, birds,” said the visitor. “Where did you hail from?”
There was something about the man’s voice which sounded familiar to Bill, but he could not place it. The wing shielded his face from view and Bill edged over to make a more complete scrutiny.
“Came down from Eugene,” replied Earl.
“Do you know a chap by the name of Bruce up there?” asked the man.