The Flying Reporter

by Lewis E. Theiss

No wonder Jimmy wanted to be off with this treasure trove, when he saw a competitor winging toward the town. Bidding farewell to the News editor, Jimmy and Carl carefully entered their boat, bailed it, and shoved off. The trip back was even harder than the journey out to the News building, for now Jimmy had a great roll of mats to keep dry. He was forced to bail with one hand. It was difficult work to keep up with the incoming water, but he toiled like a Trojan and almost kept up. By the time they reached the shore there must have been two inches of water in the boat, but that meant nothing to either lad.

Jimmy paid the farmer for the use of his boat. He delayed a little to ask further questions about the flood, and picked up additional incidents; for several people had joined the rescue group while he and Carl were gone. Just as Jimmy was starting for his ship, he saw that the other airplane was landing close to where his own ship stood. He delayed to see who the newcomer was. He was sorry enough he had waited, when the latter stepped from his plane. It was Rand, a man who formerly worked for the Morning Press and who had been discharged by Mr. Johnson because he utterly failed to solve the problem of the air mail bandits, whereas Jimmy had uncovered the whole story.

Even before that event occurred, Rand had disliked Jimmy. But since Rand had been discharged by the Morning Press he had hated Jimmy with malignant intensity. He had done everything he could, at every turn, to trick and discredit him. And Jimmy knew well that the fellow would hardly stop at anything to accomplish his purpose. Now Jimmy walked briskly by him, merely nodding. But Rand answered the nod with a cutting oath.

In a few minutes Jimmy and Carl hopped off for Berlin. Almost straight south they flew, with the Milan Hills on their right and the Chickwolrepy Mountain on their left. It was no distance at all to Berlin. At least, it took almost no time at all to reach that city. But Jimmy had to circle several times before he was willing to land. Even then he was fearful of the result. For the only place that looked possible was the flat land along the river, and this had been under water. Even yet there were little pools here and there in the depressions. Jimmy was afraid his plane might bog down and nose over. If it did, that was the end of his flight—the flight that promised so much for him.

For a moment he was tempted to go on, and mail the mats back from the next town. But he had promised to put them in the hands of the Berlin editor. Jimmy always tried to make his word as good as his bond. So now, after studying the ground carefully, he picked out the most promising looking spot and came down in a long glide. Just as his ship was about to hit the ground, he gave her the gun for a second, to increase her momentum, set her down on three points, and held his breath. The field was not as wet as it looked, and the mud was only surface mud. His ship rolled safely to a stop.

Jimmy was out of her in a flash. Throwing off his parachute, and leaving Carl to guard the plane, he hurried off with his mats. In no time he found the editor of the Berlin paper, delivered the mats and the message, and was back at his ship. But on the way he had stopped at a garage to engage some gasoline. Soon a tank wagon rolled up, and Jimmy’s tanks were quickly filled. Then, waving good-bye to the circle of admiring small boys, Jimmy hopped off.

A great, bald-faced, precipitous hill rose to the west of the town. Jimmy circled over the city, to gain altitude. Below him he noticed the great pulp mill and the enormous pile of pulp wood, that rose like a little mountain close beside the river. The whole atmosphere was redolent of the sulphur used in making paper.

But Jimmy had little interest now in sightseeing. The instant he had gained sufficient altitude, he darted away to the west, shot between the hills, and sped straight as an arrow to Lancaster, the nearest town on the Connecticut.

Then he banked to the left and with throttle opened wide went roaring down the valley of that river, over the same route by which he had come. He dropped Carl at Springfield, after getting his promise that when things were straightened out at home Carl would come to New York to visit him.

Again he took off, and this time he did not come to earth again until he landed at his home field. A taxi once more took him to the Press office, where he delivered his news proofs and films to the city editor, then sat down and for a long time worked industriously at his typewriter, putting down on paper the description of what he had seen and learned at Northend.