The Flying Reporter

by Lewis E. Theiss

Their thoughtful hosts looked after the lads’ every need, even to lending them an alarm clock. Soon the boys were sound asleep in a bed as soft as down. It had been an exciting day for both of them, and each was ready for slumber.

When the alarm rang, Jimmy sat up in bed indignantly. “Confound that thing!” he said. “Something’s wrong with it. We haven’t been abed ten minutes.”

But his watch showed him that the only thing wrong was his own sense of time. It was almost dawn. The boys arose instantly and dressed quietly, so as not to disturb their hosts. They tiptoed down-stairs, their shoes in their hands. But when they reached the kitchen there was a surprise in store for them. Their hostess was not only up and dressed, but a substantial breakfast awaited them. Jimmy hardly knew what to say or how to thank her. She told him the best thanks would be for the two boys to eat a good breakfast. In that way they thanked her heartily enough. Then, bidding their kind hosts goodbye, the two lads hastened to the plane, started the engine, and soon hopped off.

Straight to Springfield they flew, and there Jimmy landed and had his supply of gasoline and oil replenished. Then they took off for the north, sailing straight up the valley of the Connecticut. On another occasion Jimmy would have been glad to fly leisurely along this beautiful river and enjoy the fine scenery. But to-day he had no time for anything but his job. Well he knew that hard on his heels would come rushing a whole company of newspaper men, if indeed some of them had not even preceded him in the dark. His job was to get to Northend as quickly as he could, and collect the material he needed. An hour’s start, he knew well, would make all the difference in the world to him. So he opened his throttle and pushed his ship along at a fast pace. He had considerably more than 200 miles to go, for he was playing safe by doubling around the mountains instead of flying directly over them. But in considerably less than two hours he had covered the route selected and was flying south along the Androscoggin, close to Northend. So far he had not seen a plane anywhere, and he believed he was the first news flier to reach the scene.

As he came south along the little river, the land began to rise in swelling heights to right and left, and the level bottom-land became narrower and narrower. Presently the Morning Press fliers found themselves almost surrounded by mountains. It was like flying through a break in the side of a bowl into the bowl itself. Ahead of them, behind them, and to right and left of them, mountains rose, steep, rugged, and menacing. And in the very centre of this bowl-like valley lay Northend.

At the present moment the valley was in very truth a bowl, for it was fairly covered with water. From mountain to mountain the water reached, and what had been the city of Northend looked like a collection of tiny islets in the centre of the vast lake. Individual houses and blocks of buildings lifted their dark roofs above the turbid waters.

“Makes you think of huckleberries floating in a bowl of milk,” Carl shouted to Jimmy.

And that was what the scene did resemble. The huckleberries, of course, were houses. In the centre of the town the buildings rose in solid blocks, like squares of brown bread that had gotten in with the huckleberries. But in the residential districts the houses stood apart, well separated, and on the very outskirts of the town they were farther and farther apart. Isolated homes rose from the flood out in what must have been the suburban or rural regions. Nowhere within the limits of the city was there a foot of dry ground visible.

“It’s terrible,” shouted Jimmy. Carl nodded his head.

Jimmy made a complete circle around the little valley, at a good elevation. From that height he and Carl could see everything. Their vision ranged from mountain to mountain, unobstructed. Nowhere was there another plane. Nowhere was there evidence of activity, save in one or two places where small boats were being navigated from house to house. Jimmy was thrilled at the thought that he was the first outside correspondent actually to reach the scene. He resolved that he would also be the first to take to the outer world an eye-witness story of the disaster. He knew he must work fast to do it. Other newspaper men would soon be on his heels. They would be coming in droves.