They dashed off at speed. At the airport Jimmy hurried to the office of the weather forecaster. There he found Mr. Beverly Graham, who was in charge of the entire eastern section of the Airways Weather Bureau, and who had been the forecaster at Hadley Field in the days when Jimmy was in the U. S. mail service.
“Well, where in the world did you come from, Jimmy?” asked Mr. Graham, as he jumped to his feet and held out his hand. “I’m glad to see you.”
“Not half as much as I am to see you,” replied Jimmy, shaking Mr. Graham’s hand heartily. “You know I’m flying for the New York Press, and I’ve got the story of the hospital disaster in my pocket and a camera full of pictures. I’ve got to reach New York as quick as I can get there. What’s the weather like along the line?”
Mr. Graham frowned and looked at Jimmy intently. “I’m sorry you have to fly to-night,” he said. “The weather couldn’t be worse. There’s the densest kind of a fog from one end of Pennsylvania to the other.”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Jimmy, looking glum. “But it has to be done. The Press simply must get these pictures.”
“I know how you feel about it, Jimmy. If you must go, perhaps you can get up above the fog. Be sure to ride high and follow your radio beacon exactly. That’ll guide you all right if you don’t have a forced landing. Your greatest difficulty will probably be to get down safely. The fog isn’t so bad along the coast yet, but we can’t tell what conditions will be like when you reach there. The wind is pretty quiet. There’s a twenty-mile wind at 5,000 feet. I can’t tell you what it is like above that. We couldn’t see our balloons beyond that height, and even this information is two hours old. Fog and clouds have shut out every thing up high the past hour. Here’s a weather chart for you with the latest news we have been able to collect. Fog is solid through Pennsylvania.”
Jimmy studied the chart for a moment. His face grew very serious. Then he said, “Thanks ever so much. I must be off. Good-bye.” He held out his hand and the forecaster shook it warmly.
“I don’t like it, Jimmy,” he said. “I hope you get through safely. Remember to fly high and follow your radio beacon carefully. Don’t take any chance of getting lost in the fog. We’ll do all we can to help you make it.”
CHAPTER VI
Flying Blind Over the Graveyard of Airplanes