Jimmy turned back to the telephone. “I think it is all right, Mr. Johnson,” he said.
“Very well. Make all the speed you can. This is a big story and all the papers will be after it hot. Use the telegraph or the telephone if you break down. Make sure that we get the story and get it in plenty of time. And don’t forget that we want good pictures. They are more important than the story. We’ll get a story from the A. P., anyway. The telegraph editor tells me you just sent in a rattling good story about a fire. Keep it up. Get us an even better one about the flood. Good-bye.”
CHAPTER IX
Covering a Great Flood by Airplane
When Jimmy explained to Mr. Dexter that he needed help the next day and had asked Carl to assist him, Mr. Dexter reluctantly consented for Carl to go with him. Carl was really needed at home in this emergency, for there would be much to do. But Mr. Dexter was so grateful to Jimmy for saving his son’s life, and for perhaps saving all their lives, that he did not feel as though he could refuse the request. So it was settled that Carl and Jimmy should take off at dawn the next morning.
Neighbors lent the lad some shoes and clothes. And though these did not look very well, they answered the purpose all right. The question of shelter for the night was solved with equal ease. Neighbors took the homeless family into their own homes. Jimmy wanted to be near his plane. The lad who had guided Jimmy from his plane to the burning home said that his grandfather lived in the white house by the mowing where the plane was standing, and would be glad to take the two fliers in for the night. So Jimmy and Carl found themselves housed for the night in a very comfortable home, close by the airplane. They were assured that no one would molest the ship, for the big farm dog would drive off all intruders.
Relieved in his mind, Jimmy prepared to get some sleep, in preparation for the hard day he foresaw for the morrow. But before he went to bed, he got out his maps and studied the topography of the region over which he had to fly the next day. Northend, the town that had been wiped out by the flood, was some miles north of Berlin. It was at the lower end of a little valley, which was almost entirely surrounded by mountains. The Androscoggin River flowed through the little city.
“It’s plain enough what has happened,” said Jimmy to Carl. “There must have been a dam up the river and it gave way. There was no place for the wall of water to go but straight through the heart of Northend. These two mountains at the southern end of the town are like the shoulders of a bottle. There’s only a narrow neck between them, for the water to pass through. If this jammed up with debris, the whole town would be under water.”
They studied the map in silence for a few moments. “Gee!” said Carl. “There’s plenty of mountains up there. How are you going to get there?”
“We’ll fly directly up the Connecticut River, between Vermont and New Hampshire, until we pass South Columbia. Then we’ll fly east past the mountains until we strike the Androscoggin. We’ll follow that stream south to Northend. What we’ll do for a landing-place I don’t know. The map doesn’t look very promising. But I suspect we can pick out some place that will answer. Anyway, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But you can remember to watch for possible landing-places after we leave the Connecticut to-morrow. That’s a rough country up there in northern New Hampshire.”