“Are you sure it wasn’t a bird?” he said uncertainly.
“It plane,” Charley said firmly.
“Maybe it’s from one of the road stations,” Jerry suggested.
“I guess so,” Sandy said and pushed down a little harder on the accelerator to close the gap between them and the station wagon, which had drawn about a quarter of a mile ahead.
Gradually the road climbed, winding and twisting through canyons and hugging mountainsides in hazardous stretches. At one such spot Jerry peered down into the chasm that dropped off steeply on one side and clapped his hands over his eyes.
“I think I’ll get out and walk the rest of the way,” he groaned.
Sandy’s face was grim as he nursed the big truck around the curves, never letting the speedometer needle climb above the 30 on the dial.
Then, without warning, a great throbbing roar bore down on them from the rear. Instinctively, they ducked their heads as it seemed to shatter the roof of the cab. An instant later a plane appeared through the windshield zooming down the road toward the station wagon.
“Yipes!” Jerry exclaimed. “What does he think he’s doing?”
“The crazy fool!” Sandy said angrily. “He could have scared us off the highway. Look at him! He can’t be more than fifty feet off the ground.”