Jane, next to the window, saw the dispatcher in his tower signal their pilot to go ahead.
The motors roared lustily and the plane shot down the long runway, lifted smoothly into the air, and started westward, boring into the setting sun in a slow climb.
Chicago faded behind them as they sped over the fertile farm land of Illinois.
Jane relaxed in the comfortable chair and closed her eyes. The nervous strain of the last few hours had been terrific and she welcomed the opportunity to rest and relax. Sue, likewise tired by the day, closed her eyes and both girls dozed.
They were over the Mississippi at dusk with the lights of Clinton, Iowa, visible to their right. Then the plane sped on above the rich acres of Iowa. Below them the headlights of automobiles dotted the highways and an occasional cluster of lights marked a village. Then a field blazed into blue-white incandescence and the beat of the motors slowed.
Miss Comstock came down the aisle and Sue asked her their location.
“We’re landing at Iowa City to refuel. We’ll stay there about ten minutes. You can get out and walk about the hangar if you like.”
There were only a few people at the airport when the tri-motor rolled into the hangar and the girls stepped out of the cabin.
“I’m getting hungry and Omaha is a long distance ahead,” said Grace Huston.
“There’s a restaurant just a block away, by that old hangar,” pointed out Alice. “We could get a chocolate bar there. That should keep off the wolf until Omaha.”