“Yes, providing the mountain gods permit you. They don’t always, not by a long ways.”
“Is it really bad?”
“It’s the toughest bit of flying between China and Chicago. Every pilot who’s done the trip says so. And there’s a score or more of men who’ve flown it many times. Help is coming to China from America in a big way—by plane. And I’m glad.”
“So are we all!” Mary agreed.
For an hour they sailed on over green fields of rice and dark, tangled forests.
“There’s a storm gathering over there,” Scottie nodded in the direction they were going. “Hope we can beat it.”
“Oh! I hope so.”
They were over a broad stretch of water now.
“It’s getting really black over the jungle where those Jap rats are hiding.” Scottie set his motor roaring. “They’ll not bother us today.”
As Mary watched the gathering storm she thought she saw small planes, like birds circling before the clouds. “Scurrying home,” she told herself.