“Hello, Johnnie. Going to Cleveland. Be back here about 9:30 to-night. Signal me as I go over. If you have a radio sending set, get in touch with me then. Jimmy Donnelly.”
Snatching from his pocket his handkerchief and a piece of string, Jimmy passed them over to Handley. “Tie strings to each corner of the handkerchief,” he shouted into his ear, “and make a little parachute. I want to drop a message.”
Handley had the parachute made in no time. Jimmy handed him the message for Johnnie. “Tie it fast and put a weight on it,” he shouted. “Look in the desk.”
Handley found some linotype slugs. He tied two or three to the little parachute. Jimmy motioned for him to toss the thing overboard. Handley slid a window open and dropped the message for Johnnie. They were almost directly over the little village. They could see a number of people on the ground watching them; for Jimmy was still flying as low as he dared to fly. The improvised parachute fluttered down, and several figures darted toward it. But long before Jimmy’s message reached the earth, Jimmy himself was far beyond the town. It was impossible to see what had happened to his message, but Jimmie had no doubt it would get to Johnnie Lee promptly.
On they roared. Jimmy’s ship was built for speed. He seldom drove it at its fastest, for that was hard on the engine. But to-day he pushed it along much faster than his ordinary cruising speed. He fully intended to reach Cleveland within the specified time.
As they winged their way westward, Jimmy studied the sky intently. No ray of sunlight anywhere penetrated the dark cloud masses. The sky had a sullen, angry aspect. Though the air was quiet, Jimmy felt that perhaps this was the calm before the storm. He was quite sure that the good weather could not last until he was safely back on Long Island. So he listened closely to the weather broadcasts and tried to read the signs in the sky.
Jimmy made the Cleveland Airport by three o’clock. Before his ship glided to earth, he and Handley had consumed their little luncheon, and thus fortified were ready to plunge into the difficult task that lay ahead of them. They waited only long enough to order their plane serviced promptly, then they stepped into a taxi and were whirled toward the city.
At Handley’s suggestion they drove directly to the office of the Police Commissioner, where Handley presented his credentials and asked that he and Jimmy be given police passes. This took a little time, but Handley was too experienced a reporter to take any chances of delay later on. Their request was promptly granted. Thanking the Cleveland officials, the two New Yorkers hurried back to their taxi and were whirled off to the scene of the disaster. So great was the jam of trucks and fire apparatus and other vehicles that their taxi could not approach within several blocks of the hospital. Handley paid the driver.
“We shall need you all the afternoon,” he said. “Stay right here and wait for us. We shall probably have to drive about considerably.”
The driver agreed to wait for them, and Jimmy and his companion raced toward the hospital. Handley had his typewriter and Jimmy his camera. Newsies were crying the latest extras of the local papers. The New Yorkers bought copies of every paper offered for sale and hastily scanned them, marking names and addresses. Then they pushed on.