First, he had volunteered to find Warren Long, when that veteran pilot was lost in “the graveyard of airplanes,” as the mail pilots call that vast and terrible mountain wilderness in western Pennsylvania. And he had found him, after all other searchers had been baffled. He had found him disabled by a broken leg, in the path of an advancing forest fire, after a terrible forced landing. The story of that adventure is told in “The Search for the Lost Mail Plane.” Thus, for the second time, Jimmy had saved the life of this brother pilot that he loved so well. The first time was when Warren Long’s plane fell into the Susquehanna River immediately in front of Jimmy’s home, and Jimmy had swum out in the icy water and rescued the unconscious pilot. The account of that rescue is given in “Piloting the U. S. Air Mail,” That occurrence marked the beginning of the devoted friendship between this older pilot and the youthful Jimmy. So it is easy to see why Warren Long sent a bit of his parachute to Jimmy, who was interested in collecting such things, and why Jimmy told his city editor that Warren Long would do anything for him.
The second commission that Jimmy had executed for the Morning Press was the running down of a gang of robbers after one of them had looted a mail plane that had crashed one stormy night in this selfsame “graveyard of airplanes.” The story of that thief chase is told in “Trailing the Air Mail Bandit.” It was a long, hard chase, too; and one which Jimmy would never have won had it not been for these very same qualities of enthusiasm, determination, and perseverance. For in this case Jimmy had had to work against the greatest obstacles and the most incredible discouragements.
In both cases he won; and his success did far more than merely clear up two mysteries. It convinced Mr. Johnson that Jimmy was right when he argued that the Morning Press ought to add a flier to its staff. Mr. Johnson added one; and quite naturally he chose Jimmy. Thus it was that Jimmy’s job, like his plane, was brand-new.
Although Jimmy had handled these two big stories successfully, though of course he had considerable help, he didn’t feel any too sure of himself yet as a reporter. For during the short time that he had been a regular member of the Morning Press staff, there had been few stories on which Jimmy could work. Mostly he had been doing tasks of the fetch-and-carry sort. He had transported pictures and camera men and reporters. But he had had little opportunity for independent news gathering. Hence he welcomed this present chance with such eagerness.
But even though Jimmy was not yet a seasoned reporter, there was one quality he possessed that made up for much that he still lacked. He had a naturally keen news sense. He was gifted with what newspaper men call a “nose for news.” He felt the dramatic possibilities in everything he heard and saw. He seemed to sense the facts that should be secured in order to make the most of a story. That was why he at once saw that the tale in the morning paper about Warren Long was faulty, that the correspondent had failed to secure the dramatic elements in the story that would appeal most to people. That was why Jimmy knew there was a real human interest story in this thrilling leap from a burning plane. It was this keen news sense that now made Jimmy so eager to get the facts—the significant facts—that the correspondent had failed to secure. Jimmy wanted to make good. He wanted to help his paper “scoop” all the other newspapers in New York. He believed he could do it. That was why he was all atremble with eagerness. Like a race-horse at the barrier, he was restive and impatient to go.
But though Jimmy was green in the newspaper game, he was well seasoned in the flying business. He had had too much experience to take anything for granted. Hence, while his plane was warming up, Jimmy made sure that he was prepared for any emergency. He saw to it that his flash-light was in its place and in good working order. That was the first thing he thought of. In future it would always be the first thing he thought of. Warren Long’s letter had made an indelible impression on his mind. He saw that the plane contained a little case of emergency rations that he habitually carried. He made sure his pistol was in place. That was a piece of equipment most fliers lacked. Mail pilots are compelled to carry pistols, and Jimmy had formed the habit of flying armed, while he was in the mail service. Experience had shown him the wisdom of having a firearm at hand in his ship. He made sure that he had his topographic maps and other articles that he had found to be necessary or desirable. Of course he put his camera aboard, with a plentiful supply of films.
After a final close inspection of the plane, Jimmy put on his ’chute and snapped it fast. Then he climbed into the cabin, glanced at the instruments, held the stick back, and shoved the throttle forward. No longer was there the staccato of exploding gases, but instead a thundering roar. Jimmy kept her wide open while he noted the maximum number of revolutions his propeller was making, his oil temperature and oil pressure. Then he switched from one “mag” to the other, but noticed no difference in “revs.” Gradually Jimmy throttled her down to a murmur. She was perfect!
An attendant came forward and pointed to the chocks. Jimmy nodded “O. K.” As the attendant pulled the chocks from the wheels, Jimmy glanced at the wind-sock on his hangar. Then he taxied slowly down the field. He headed into the wind and gave her full gun. The ship accelerated rapidly. With a thundering roar the ship took off gracefully, guided by an experienced hand and brain. Jimmy was off on his assignment.
He cut over to the very edge of Long Island and followed the southern shore-line. Over the Bay and across the southern end of Staten Island he winged his way, heading south of west, to pick up the route of the Air Mail. Long before he crossed the Delaware, near Easton, he was right on the line. How much like old times it seemed, to be flying over the beacon lights. To be sure, they were not flashing now, in the morning light, but he knew where the towers were and he saw each one as he flew over it, where it stood like a friendly sentinel, to point out the path.
In the clear light of day Jimmy had no need of guide-posts or flashing lights or radio signals. He knew the route as well as a schoolboy knows the way to the high school. But Jimmy’s plane was equipped with radio, and ear phones were built into his flying helmet. Presently he “plugged in” to his instrument board to see if he could pick up the weather. That is a topic of constant interest to every flier. He had barely passed Numidia before he heard the Bellefonte radio man sending out his hourly weather report. “This is station WWQ, Airways Communication Station, Bellefonte, Pa., broadcasting weather information on the Chicago-New York airway. It is now 10 A. M. Eastern Standard Time. At Hadley Field, N. J., scattered clouds, ceiling unlimited, visibility eight miles, wind south, nine miles, temperature 50, dewpoint 29, barometer 29.98; Allentown, Pa., scattered clouds, ceiling unlimited, visibility seven miles, wind southeast, four miles, temperature 51, barometer 29.94. Park Place, Pa., broken clouds, ceiling estimated four thousand, visibility ten miles, wind southeast, fourteen miles, temperature 45, barometer 29.89; Sunbury, Pa., overcast light haze, ceiling estimated twenty-five hundred, visibility four miles, wind calm, temperature 50, barometer 29.81; Numidia, Pa., overcast light haze, occasional sprinkles of rain, ceiling twenty-four hundred, visibility three miles, wind southwest, five miles, temperature 49, barometer 29.79. This concludes the broadcast of weather information from station WWQ, Bellefonte, Pa.”