“I’ll be there,” said Jimmy, but little could he foresee what it was going to cost him to make good that promise.
He hung up the telephone receiver and skipped out into the hangar to start his engine to warming. Then he gathered up his camera, his portable typewriter, and all the other equipment he ordinarily carried in his plane. The cabin of his ship was especially fitted up with a desk, where he or any one else could write. In this desk he stowed his typewriter and camera, so they would not be thrown about in the plane in case of rough going. In the floor of the ship there was a special opening for the taking of photographs vertically. The sides of the ship were lined with windows, to permit easy observation in all directions.
“We probably shall not have a minute to get anything to eat,” thought Jimmy. “I’ll put a lunch aboard and we can eat it as we fly.”
He ran out to a near-by lunch wagon and had some sandwiches and milk prepared for him. By the time he got back with these, a taxi was just rolling up with Handley. Jimmy greeted his fellow reporter, whom he liked very much, and grabbed up the latter’s little typewriter. Handley followed with a suitcase. They stowed the luggage in the plane, which was now ready to sail. Jimmy helped Handley buckle on a parachute. Then he strapped on his own. They stepped into the cabin and in another moment were climbing aloft as rapidly as Jimmy’s engine would lift them.
Once more Jimmy flew south of west to connect with the Air Mail route to Cleveland. A slight breeze was blowing at a higher altitude, so Jimmy went hedge-hopping along to avoid the wind as much as possible. The air seemed “dead” to him. It felt as though a storm might be brewing. So he plugged in with his head phones and listened for the hourly report of the Airways Weather Bureau. He hadn’t long to wait. Soon he heard the wireless man at Hadley Field broadcasting. Jimmy listened intently. He learned that the weather was fair all the way to Cleveland. But the sky was overcast and the ceiling low. Visibility was poor. There was little wind. The prospect was for increasing cloudiness and bad weather.
“We ought to make Cleveland all right,” thought Jimmy. “It isn’t quite 400 miles from Hadley to Cleveland. There isn’t any wind to speak of, so I won’t have to stop at Bellefonte for gas. I ought to make the trip from Hadley in close to three hours.”
Jimmy looked down and saw that he was already almost abreast of that airport. “In three hours,” he muttered, “I’m going to be in Cleveland. This ship can do it, and I’ll make her do it.” He opened his throttle a little wider, and the plane darted ahead faster than ever.
Away they soared, over the flat lands of New Jersey, above the hills of Pennsylvania, almost straight westward. As they drew near Ringtown Jimmy studied the country closely. He wondered if Johnnie were down there watching him.
“If he has a good pair of field-glasses,” thought Jimmy, “he will easily be able to identify the plane. We are flying so low that he can see my license number plainly. And he ought to be able to read the name New York Morning Press painted on the sides of the ship. I guess I’ll drop him a greeting.”
Hastily he drew a little pad of paper from his pocket, and while he guided the ship with his left hand scribbled this message with his right on the pad, which he placed on his right leg.