“Speed” Rand had landed the damaged plane in a fence.
Tom was the first to reach the wrecked craft. He expected to find the famous flyer half dead in the wreckage. Instead, he was greeted by a debonair young fellow who crawled from beneath one wing where he had been tossed by the impact when the plane struck the fence.
“My gosh,” exclaimed Tom, “aren’t you hurt?”
“Sorry,” smiled Rand, “but I’ll have to disappoint you. I haven’t anything more than a few bruises.”
Helen and Margaret arrived so out of breath they were speechless.
Rand bowed slightly. Then his eyes glowed with recognition.
“Hello,” he said. “Aren’t you the folks in the speedboat?”
“We sure were,” Tom said. “You scared us half to death.”
“I scared myself,” admitted Rand, his blue eyes reflecting the laughter on his lips. “It’s been so long since I’ve been in a speedboat I’d forgotten all about the big wake one of those babies pull. I’m just lucky not to be at the bottom of the lake.”
“You’re really ‘Speed’ Rand, aren’t you?” asked Margaret.