“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Johnson. I’ll do all I can to help him make good.” And Jimmy walked out of the managing editor’s office as happy as a lark. Altogether, it had been a mighty good day for Jimmy.
“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” he thought. “If Rand hadn’t pulled me down at Easton, Johnnie would never have gotten this job. It just seems to me as though most of the things that look like difficulties when they occur are really opportunities. It’s been that way with me more than once. The main thing is to keep a stiff upper lip, use your head, and just keep on going. I’ll try to remember that the next time I get in a pinch.”
Jimmy went back to his ship, to see that she was put in shape for instant use again. He was very happy. Not only had he made good again for himself, but he had helped his old friend. He had secured for him the opening that Johnnie so much desired. He wanted to write to Johnnie and tell him about the situation, but he decided not to do it. “Mr. Johnson evidently prefers to write to him himself,” thought Jimmy. “I don’t want to do anything that could possibly gum things up.” So he restrained himself.
It wasn’t long, however, before Jimmy had abundant opportunity to tell Johnnie all about the matter. A new and important airport was to be opened in central Pennsylvania. Celebrated fliers by the dozens were to be on hand. An attractive program of races and flying stunts had been arranged, and the affair had been given great publicity. Mr. Johnson decided to send a man to cover the story. Quite naturally, he selected Jimmy.
“Go up there and get us a good story, Jimmy,” he said. “If all the fliers are present who are advertised to be there, this will be a very interesting gathering. And by the way, I suppose you will fly out along the Air Mail route. If you do, stop at Ringtown and take Johnnie Lee along with you. I wrote him two days ago, offering him a job, and I just received his reply. He is eager to come. Pick him up and take him to the airport opening with you. I’ll give you credentials for him. He can start right in with you. And remember, I expect you to help him learn his job.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” replied Jimmy. “I’ll do my very best to help Johnnie. You won’t be sorry you hired him. I’ll pick him up as I fly out, and bring him back to the city with me.”
“That’s exactly what I wish,” replied the managing editor.
So it happened that when Jimmy flew to the air races, he stopped at Ringtown and picked up his old friend. Then the two flew on to the airport.
The aviation meeting was all it had been advertised to be. Scores of pilots were present, many of them famous veterans of the air. The edge of the flying field was lined for hundreds of yards with ships that were crowded so close together their wing tips almost touched. There were flying machines of almost every known variety. Tiny Moth planes stood wing to wing with huge tri-motored cabin ships that would hold a dozen passengers each. There were monoplanes and biplanes, and even some gliders were to be seen. The Army and the Navy were represented by several fliers each. The planes of the latter instantly caught the eye as they stood on the line in military formation, noticeable among all other planes for their blazing insignia on their wing surfaces. It was a sight to delight a pilot’s heart.
Yet the ground show was nothing compared to the exhibition in the air. Aloft there was a constant stream of ships. Some were arriving, some departing, some were carrying passengers at so much a ride, some were stunting, and others were merely aloft for the pleasure of it. Then came races. The air was cleared of all other fliers, and the speedsters had their innings. Back and forth they darted along a course many miles long, one end of which was in the centre of the new airport. Around the striped pylon they roared, some darting upward on the turn, others roaring around on level keel. And so steeply were the ships banked that each seemed fairly to be standing on one wing as it whirled around the pylon. It was a stirring sight.