When the sky grew light with dawn, in front of them, and the hills looked cheerless in the early gray, Hike called Poodle to the seat beside him, and gave him the last of several lessons in aviation. Finally, he let Poodle drive her, for a while. Leaning against a pile of blankets and food on the platform, he stretched out his cramped legs, for a short rest.
The clouds promised rain and a bad wind, so Hike soon took the levers again. He made out by his map, soon after dawn, that they were over Kansas. They were coming to the end of the hilly country, into the plains; speeding over a hundred miles an hour. Hike was just planning to push her up to a hundred and fifty an hour when he made out something that caused him to swoop closer to earth, and hastily slow her down, with his foot-throttle. The shock almost threw Poodle out of his seat, and sent a can of coffee hurtling across the freight-platform.
Hike had seen a man and woman, ahead of them, riding madly across a stretch of prairie, toward a river. Pursuing them were a dozen men, also on horseback, shouting and shooting. The man and woman were not over half a mile ahead, and the pursuers were gaining.
Hike dropped, stopped his motor, landed just ahead of the fleeing couple, on a butte overlooking a deep narrow cut through which a river, swollen by recent rain, was raging. As the Hustle landed, the storm broke out in thunder.
The fleeing couple galloped up, shouting through the rain, “Help us!”
“What’s matter?” cried Poodle. “Get aboard!”
“Horse-thieves—there—kidnapped young lady—my sweetheart—wanted make her marry man—I got her back—they want lynch me,” panted the man, as he vaulted from his horse. He helped down the girl and lifted her on the freight-platform of the Hustle. He was a clean, decent-looking chap, Hike thought, and the story was probably true, with those wild bandits chasing the couple.
Hike switched on the spark—but the engine did not start. Through the rain the pursuers could be seen, galloping toward them. A rifle bullet sang through the Hustle’s planes.
“What’s matter?” Poodle yelled again.
Hike shouted, “Dunno—won’t start. Climb out—we’ll glide across river!”