Читать книгу: «Famous Flyers and Their Famous Flights», страница 3

Hank interrupted. “Here we go gassingagain like two old fogies. I feel like myown grandfather sitting on the front porchand discussing the battle of Bull Run. Weare getting old, aren’t we, Bill? Theseyoungsters ought to be glad that they didn’thave to fly those old buses that we used, though. The new planes are great to fly.You two are going to have a grand time.I’d rather fly than travel any other way.But I don’t think that it would be quitethe thing to suggest to my wife now thatI would rather fly to Europe with her thantake the boat. So old Hank will be a landanimal this time. Or rather, a water animal, instead of a bird.”

“A sort of – fish?” laughed Bill.

“Shut up, you,” said Hank. “Now, listen, how about that offer of my cabin andmy plane for your vacation? It’ll be agrand trip, and I guarantee that you’ll likethe cabin on the mountain. Nobody aroundfor miles, except Jake, who takes care ofthe place for me. In fact, there’s no townfor a hundred miles around. About the onlypractical way of getting there is by plane.Just think, old man, all of that beauty andsolitude going begging. You can get rightback to nature there, live a wild life, orhave all the conveniences of home, whicheveryou chose. We’ve got the place all fixedup. It’s a real man’s place, and you’ll loveit. And I’d like to see somebody who’d appreciateit have it this summer. And I knowyou would.”

Bill looked at Hank, who was talking soearnestly, with a puzzled look. “Listen,Hank,” he said, “you aren’t trying to persuademe to go up there as a favor to you, are you? Because if you are, you’re crazy.It’s certainly not you who should be doingthe begging. We ought to be down on ourhands and knees begging you for the place.The only reason I hesitate at all is becauseI think it’s too much you’re doing for us.”

Hank snorted. “Then you’re going totake the place.”

Bill looked at him fondly, seeing throughthe strange marks that time had left on thisman, the young, awkward boy whom hehad befriended in France, when he hadbeen just a young fellow himself, but notso green as the other. Then he said, “Whatdo you say we leave it up to the boys?” Heturned to them. “What do you say, Bob?How does a vacation up in the mountainssound to you?”

Bob, his eyes shining, could hardly answer.He hadn’t wanted to show too much eagernessbefore because he had remembered hismanners just in time, and was watching Billto see how they should respond to HankBrown’s generous offer. But now that hesaw that Bill was favorably disposed, hebreathed, “Oh, gee, I think that it would begreat! Just great! Let’s go, Bill.”

Hank was amused and pleased by thisenthusiasm.

The Captain turned to Hal. “How aboutyou?”

Hal, who had forgotten his misery duringthe recital of the exciting stories of waraces, and was once more fired with ambition, now that he was safely on the ground, wasalmost as enthusiastic. “But,” he said asan afterthought, “I don’t know whether Icould go, of course. My mother – ” hisvoice trailed off.

Bill reached over and grasped Hank’s hand.“We’ll take it, old scout. Don’t know howto thank you.”

“Don’t,” said Hank. “I’m glad you’regoing to go. All you have to do is to wireto Jake when you’re coming. He lights bonfiresto mark the landing field, and thereyou are. I’m going to be in town for twoweeks, so you can come up any time tomake arrangements. O.K.? Now I’ve gotto go. I’ve been spending too much timeas it is. Wish I could stay and see Pat, butI can’t. Tell him to come up and see me, will you?”

He bid them goodbye and left in his automobilewhich had been parked nearby.The next hour was spent in an excitinginspection of the various planes in the airport, from tiny two-seater monoplanes thatlooked like fragile toys, to huge biplanes; and in a growing impatience with Pat’s delay.Finally a tiny speck appeared on thehorizon, but the three of them had beendisappointed so often that they did not dareto hope that this was at last Pat McDermott.But it was. He stepped out of the greenmonoplane and pushing up his goggles, lookedaround him. He spied his three friendsimmediately, and hurried to meet them.

“Hi, Irish!” called Captain Bill. “I wantyou to meet two pals of mine.” He introducedBob and Hal. “We’re going to teachthem to fly.”

The two boys shook hands with Pat. Helooked like his name, a tall, broad, huskyman with a shock of curly hair that hadprobably once been red, but which was nowbrown, with a little gray at the temples; ayoung face – it was impossible to tell howold he was; and a broad grin that spreadacross his face and up around his eyes, disappearinginto the roots of his hair.

“Well,” he said, without ceremony, asthough he had been friends of theirs foryears, “They’ll make good flyers if they’renot too lazy. And if anybody can makeyou work, I can. And I will.”

The Captain laughed. “Don’t take Patseriously,” he said. “He’s too lazy to makeyou work very hard. But let me warn youthat he’s trained army flyers, so you’d betternot mind what he says, while he’s teachingyou.”

The boys had gone over and were lookingat the Marianne. She was a beautifullystream-lined craft, large yet graceful.

Pat noticed the boys’ admiration, and waspleased. “How about taking a ride in hernow?” he asked.

“They just got down to earth,” said theCaptain. He explained about Hank andHank’s plane. Pat was delighted that theirold pal had turned up, and decided thatthey would have to have a reunion verysoon. He also decided on the spot thathe was going along with them to the mountains.

“Try to keep me away. Although I don’tmuch fancy the riding on cushions, in a fancyplane. When I fly, I want to fly. Butif you let me do the piloting, I’ll make thebest of that.” Pat always decided thingsthat way, but nobody resented his high-handmanner, since he looked, and was, the sortof man who could make good on any jobhe undertook. “Well, Bob, my lad,” hesaid, turning to the boy, “how about goingup? It’s the first step in learning to fly.And don’t think that it’s going to be likecabin flying. You’ll notice the differencewhen you get up. Ready?”

“Sure,” said Bob.

Pat produced a helmet and some goggles.“It’s an open cockpit you’re sitting in,” hesaid. “And see that the goggles fit tightly.”

Bob wiggled them around. “They seemall right,” he said.

“All right, hop in,” Pat told him.

Bob climbed into the rear cockpit, noless thrilled by his second flight that daythan he had been by his first. He waved hishand to the Captain and Hal who werewatching them. Pat climbed into the frontcockpit. “Ready?” he called.

“O. K!” shouted Bob.

Pat started the motor, which was a self-starter.The plane taxied gently across thefield, and Pat turned her nose into the wind.Bob felt her lift from the earth; there wasa bump – they hadn’t quite cleared; Patspeeded up, until Bob, looking over the sideof the cockpit, could see the ground slippingby dizzily. Then the bumping stopped; they had left the ground. This time theydid not again bump; the Marianne soared intothe air.

Bob could feel the blast of air againsthis face, and he was glad his goggles fittedwell. The motor roared, the wind screamed.Bob tried to shout, but could not hear himselfuttering a sound. He looked down.The airport looked as it had from the otherplane. Now he had more of the feeling offlying. There was a sudden bump. TheMarianne dropped suddenly. Bob felt asthough he were in an elevator that had descendedvery suddenly – there was the samepit-of-the-stomach feeling. Air bump, hethought, and it was. He looked over the sideagain, and could see nothing. They weretraveling pretty high.

Then suddenly the roar of the motor stopped, and they began to descend at what Bobfelt must be an almost unbelievable speed.At first Bob was frightened, but then realizedthat they were gliding down. Everynow and then Pat turned on his engineagain. Bob, looking over the side, couldsee the fields coming up to meet them. Theylanded so gently that he hardly felt the joltof the wheels touching the ground.

How funny to stand on the stable groundonce more! The sound of the motor wasstill roaring in Bob’s ears. He pulled offthe goggles and helmet. “It was marvelous!”he shouted loudly to his friends.

“We can hear you,” said the Captain.“You needn’t shout!”

“Was I shouting?” laughed Bob.

“You are,” said the Captain.

But Pat had turned to Hal. “Well, lad, you’re next.”

But Hal said what he had been rehearsingfor many minutes, in fact, ever since Bobhad taken to the air. “Don’t you thinkit’s rather late? We haven’t had any lunch.Maybe we could go up again after lunch.”

Captain Bill, who knew the struggle thatwas going on in Hal’s heart, and who wasgetting hungry anyway, said, “Lunch.That’s the idea. We’ve got a great picniclunch, Pat.”

“Lead me to it,” said Pat.

“Knew that would get you,” laughed theCaptain.

They left the plane in charge of a mechanic, who was to look after it, and went overto the automobile that the Captain hadparked. They decided, on Bob’s suggestion,to eat on a grassy slope from which theycould see the airport.

“I’ve got an idea,” said the Captain. “Youcan start your story about Lindbergh.”

“I’m ready,” said Bob, “if you’re readyto listen. I think I know the story backwardsand forward.”

“Begin at the beginning, always,” theCaptain warned.

They reached the spot where they hadchosen to picnic, and settled back contentedlyin the long grass to hear part of Bob’s storybefore lunch.

CHAPTER V – The Eagle

“Well,” began Bob, “I guess my storyisn’t going to be very new to any of you.Gee, I know it almost by heart, and I supposeeverybody else does, too.”

“Don’t apologize,” said the Captain.“We’ll be only too glad to stop you if we’veheard it before. I don’t think that we will, though. It’s a story that bears repeating.”

Bob’s eyes lighted up. “You bet,” hesaid. “I never get tired of reading about it.”He plucked at the grass beside him. “Gee,it makes a fellow want to do things. Itmakes him feel that the older folks don’tknow everything – ”

“A-hem,” interrupted Captain Bill.

Bob laughed. “You’re not old folks, oldbean. Don’t flatter yourself. Anyway, they told Lindbergh that he couldn’t do it.They told him that his plane was carryingtoo much, and he’d never be able to makeit alone.”

“Did he?” said Pat.

Bob looked at him disgustedly. “Did he!Don’t make fun of me, you old Irishman!”

The old Irishman looked grieved. “Well,I just wanted to know. I’m always willingto learn somethin’ new. And you’d betterget started, or we’ll never know. We’ll beleaving the lad up in the air, so to speak.”

“Ignore that ape,” said Captain Bill, “andproceed.”

“Lindbergh didn’t listen to them. He justwent ahead and did what he thought wasright, and by golly, he was right. It makesa fellow feel that even if he is young hecan do things. He doesn’t just have to sitaround and do what everybody else has donebefore. There’s got to be a first every time.Lindy wasn’t afraid just because nobodyhad ever flown the Atlantic alone before, andthe wiseacres said that it couldn’t be done.He just went ahead and flew it.”

“It wasn’t as easy as all that,” quietlyremarked Hal.

Bob turned to him. “Of course not.Lindy had planned every move that he wasgoing to make. He was prepared for anything.That’s why he’s always so successful.He has his plans all laid before he evertakes off. He’s got all the courage in theworld, but he’s not reckless.”

“Put that under your hat, my lad. It’sa good lesson to know by heart when you’regoing into the flying game.”

“You bet,” said Bob. “Gee, it neededa lot of courage for him to make that take-off.I’ve got the date down here. It wasMay 20, 1927, on a Friday. That musthave been an exciting morning down atRoosevelt Field. He made up his mind onThursday afternoon. They told him thatthe weather was all right over the NorthAtlantic, and that it would be best if hestarted out the next morning.

“He didn’t tell anybody about his plans.He never talks very much anyway. Everybodyfound that out later. It was all sortof secret. He just told his mechanics to getthe Spirit of St. Louis ready, and keep theirmouths shut. I guess he didn’t want everybodymessing around with his plans. Butthe men who delivered his gasoline weren’tso secret, I guess, and somehow his plansleaked out Thursday night.

“That Thursday night was pretty awful.It was raining, and the weather could be cutwith a knife. But once people found outthat Slim was going to start, they beganto come around to Curtiss Field, and at twoo’clock in the morning there was a big crowdof them standing around in the rain andmud. Slim wasn’t leaving from Curtiss, though, and they towed his plane by truckover to Roosevelt. They got there justabout when it was getting light.

“There was a crowd over at Curtiss, too.But Slim didn’t care. Crowds never meanmuch to him. He saw a whole lot moreof them later on, too, but he never was oneto strut or show off. He just got into hisfur-lined suit, and waited for the men tostart his engine. Somebody asked him if hehad only five sandwiches and two canteensof water. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘If I get to Paris,I won’t need any more, and if I don’t getthere, I won’t need any more, either.’ Itwas just like him to say that, but the realreason he didn’t take any more was becausehe had too much weight already. He hadover 200 gallons of gas, and the load washeavy. He had to cut down on everythingthat wasn’t absolutely necessary.

“Well, they started his motor for him.The plane was standing on the Rooseveltrunway, which is pretty smooth, and fivethousand feet long. The weather had clearedup a little. And there was the monoplanelooking all silver and slick, roaring away forall it was worth. Lindy said goodbye tohis mother, and to Byrd and Chamberlinand Acosta, who were planning their owntrips across the Atlantic, and then he steppedinto the cockpit, and closed the door.

“He raced his motor a little bit. She musthave sounded pretty sweet to him, becausehe gave her the gun, and off he went. Thatstart must have been one of the hardestparts of the whole trip. The Spirit of St.Louis bumped along that muddy runway, and the people watching thought she’d goover on her nose any moment. She wasover-loaded. Her motor was pulling for allshe was worth, but it didn’t seem as thoughthey’d ever make it. She went off theground a few feet, and bounced down again.But then the crowd held its breath. She wasleaving the ground. They were up aboutfifteen feet. And there were telegraph wiresin their path. If they hit those, the tripto Paris was over right then. But theydidn’t. The landing gear cleared by a fewinches. That crowd simply roared. ButSlim didn’t hear them. He was on his wayto Paris.”

Bob paused for breath. He had been talkingvery fast, carried away by his story.The others did not speak, but sat waitingfor him to go on. They had all heard thestory before, but as the Captain had said,it bore repeating, and they could hear itagain and again. There was something agelesslyappealing in the tale of that youngman’s feat.

Bob was talking again. “I’m not muchat poetry,” he said.

“You bet you’re not,” said Captain Bill.“I’ve read some of yours.”

Bob glared at him. “I never wrote apoem!” he said defensively.

The Captain looked contrite. “It musthave been Hal,” he said. “I beg your pardon.Go on with your story. Where doesthe poetry come in?”

“I was going to tell you, before you interrupted,so rudely, that there’s somebodywho’s written a poem – a lot of poetry, tomusic – a cantata I think they call it. It’sabout Lindy’s flight, and it tells the storyof the flight across the Atlantic. I guessit’s pretty thrilling. Maybe that’s the onlyway the story can be told – in poetry andmusic, because it always sounds pretty flatwhen you just say Lindy flew across theAtlantic in a monoplane. It needs music, with a lot of trumpets – ”

“Go on, go on, my lad. More words, lessmusic.” Pat seemed to be getting impatient.The sun was pretty high over their headsnow, and bees were buzzing drowsily in thetall grass all around them. Hal had stretchedout on his stomach, facing the little group, which was seated now in a semi-circle. “I’llbe falling asleep if you don’t get on.”

Bob laughed embarrassedly. “All right, you just stop me if I get to rambling. Youkeep me straight, Irish.”

Captain Bill leaned back on a hummockof earth, his arms folded behind his head.“I’m so comfortable, I could listen to anything, even to Bob telling a story. Go on,Bob.”

“One more crack, and you don’t hearanything,” said Bob. “Remember the rules,no interruptions from the gallery.”

“We stand corrected. Go on.”

Bob settled himself once again into thegrass. “Well, we’ve got Lindy into the air.No sooner had he set out when people beganreporting that they’d seen him. Someof them had. A lot of them were just excitedindividuals who’d heard a motorcycleback-firing. But somebody actually did seehim flying over Rhode Island, and abouttwo hours, nearly, after he had set out, theyflashed back that he’d been seen at Halifax,Massachusetts. Then he dropped out ofsight. Nobody reported seeing him. Thatwas because he took an over-water route, andwas out some distance, flying along the coastof New England.

“They saw him next over Nova Scotia, running along nicely, and then Springfield,Nova Scotia saw him. It was about oneo’clock, and he was going strong. But hewas getting into a dangerous region, cold andfoggy. They had watchers looking for himeverywhere. Lindy left Nova Scotia at CapeBreton, headed for Newfoundland. It waspretty stiff going, about 200 miles withoutsight of land, and over a pretty treacheroussea. But at 7:15 they saw him flying lowover St. John’s, in Newfoundland. Theycould see the number on the wings, and sentback word to the world that he had passedthere. And that was the last word that anybodyreceived that Friday.

“The going had been pretty good untilthen. The weather was clear, and the ceilingpretty high. But as soon as it got dark,Lindy and his plane hit some pretty badweather. It grew mighty cold, and a thickswirling fog came up and swallowed up theplane. This was mighty tough, because ifhe flew low, he was bound to run into oneof the icebergs that were floating in the icysea. So he climbed up to about 10,000 feet, and stayed there. Flying high was all right, but it added another danger. Ice was formingon the wings of the Spirit of St. Louis, andif it got thick enough, it would break offa wing of the plane, and send the plane andLindy into the sea.

“Lindy could have turned back, but hedidn’t. He kept right on, through fog andsleet and rain. His motor never missed. Itwas a good pal, and no wonder he includedit in his feat, and said later that ‘we crossedthe Atlantic.’

“When morning came, a whole flock ofcables came, too. It seems a whole lot ofships had sighted Lindy’s plane, or somebody’splane, anywhere from 500 to 100miles off the coast of Ireland, where he washeaded. Nobody knew who to believe, butat 10:00 o’clock came the real news, thathe was over a place called Valencia, Ireland.

“Lindy wondered where he was, himself.Flying blind as he had, he didn’t know justwhere he had come out. So he decided toask the first person he met. Now you canimagine the air roads weren’t full of planesflying to Ireland, and Lindy had to waituntil he sighted a fishing schooner. Heswooped low and shouted out, ‘Am I headedfor Ireland?’ The fishermen were so astoundedthat they couldn’t answer, so Lindyflew on his course, depending as he had allnight, on his compass. Pretty soon he camein sight of land, and knew that it was Ireland.”

“Because it was so beautiful,” said Pat.

“No, because it was rocky, and his mapsindicated that the land would be rocky,”said Bob.

“Oh, no doubt he could tell it was Ireland,”insisted Pat. “His mother was Irish, you know, and it needs mighty little Irishblood to make a man long for the ould sod.”

“Well, anyway, there he was over Ireland,”put in Bob, pointedly. “And fromIreland, on to England, and from England,on to France. Along the Seine, and thenParis. They were waiting for him at LeBourget, and sent up flares and rockets, longbefore he got there. Maybe they weren’t excitedwhen he flew into range! It was about8:30, that is, French time, but about 5:30New York time, when Lindy and the Spiritof St. Louis circled around the landing fieldat Le Bourget and landed. Golly, I wishI’d been there. The first man in the worldto fly the Atlantic, landing before my veryeyes! He’d gone 3,640 miles, and had madeit in 33½ hours. Some going!

“Well, he was there. And he got out ofthe plane. And you all know what he saidwhen he got out. I – ”

“I am Charles Lindbergh,” said CaptainBill and Pat, not quite in unison.

“Yup,” said Bob, “‘I am Charles Lindbergh.’He thought that they wouldn’t knowwho he was. He’d been flying pretty lowover Ireland and England, and so far ashe could see, nobody had paid much attentionto him. So he introduced himself, just as though every man, woman and childin every civilized country wasn’t saying thatvery name all through the day. Rememberwhen we heard the news over the radio,Hal? We were so excited we nearly upsetthe furniture. Golly, that was a day.

“Well, that was Slim Lindbergh’s flight, and now about Slim himself. He was bornin Detroit, Michigan, on February 2, 1902, and that means that he was only twenty-fiveyears old when he made his greatestflight, which is pretty young to become themost famous man in the world.

“His dad was Charles A. Lindbergh, andhe died in 1924, when he was running forgovernor of Minnesota on the Farmer-Laborticket. He’d been a Representative in Congressbefore. Lindy and he were great pals, and played around together a lot. Lindy’smother was Irish, and taught school in Detroit.

“Lindy went to school in Little Falls, andto Little Falls High School. He graduatedfrom there when he was 16. He was goodin Math and in other things he liked, butnot in grammar.

“Lindy didn’t go right to college. In fact,he didn’t go until three years after he’d graduatedfrom high school, and then he went tothe University of Wisconsin, to take upmechanical engineering. He was good atthat. He’d always liked to tinker, and hegot his chance there. He did at college justwhat you’d expect him to do. He had somefriends and acquaintances, but mostly hekept to himself. He was the same quiet, shyperson that everybody got to know later, when he became famous.

“Slim didn’t stay at Wisconsin very long,so we don’t know what he would have finallydone there. He went over to Lincoln,Nebraska, where they had a flying school, and asked them to teach him to fly. Theytaught him the beginnings of flying, andfrom the moment his hands touched the controls,he knew that this was what he wascut out for. He just took naturally tothose levers and gadgets, and could handlehis plane like a toy.

“It seems that Lindy was born to be apilot. He’s built for one, in the first place.Long and rangy, and slim. No extra weight, but plenty of muscle and endurance. He’sgot a lot of nerve and never gets excitedHe showed that when he got himself electedto the Caterpillar Club. But I’ll get to thatlater.” Here Bob paused, and looked up atthe sun, which was just slipping a littlewestward. “Say,” he said. “Would youfolks mind if I continued my story later?I feel just a little empty. How about thefood?”

“I’ve been thinking that for a long time,”said the Captain. “But rules are rules. Ididn’t want to interrupt you.”

Bob snorted. “Say, for food you can interruptme any time. Let’s go.”

He jumped up, stretched himself, andmade for the car, to get out the huge hamperof lunch. “Say,” he called back, “Lindymay have been satisfied with five sandwichesall the way to Paris, but darned if I couldn’teat five right now.” He carried the hamperover to the knoll where the others were.They were all standing now, limbering up, stretching, sniffing the good air, and lookingeagerly toward the food.

“Here, lend a hand,” said Bob. He plumpeddown the basket so that they could hearthe rattle of forks and tin cups within, andsat down beside it.

“You’re the host,” said Hal, seating himselfcomfortably on the grass and lookingon. “It’s your party. We have to listento your story, so the least you can do isfeed us.”

Bob had opened the hamper, and was viewingits contents eagerly. He dived into thebasket. “Say, anybody who doesn’t helphimself, doesn’t eat. Fall to.”

They fell to, doing much eating but littletalking. Finally Bob sat back, a sandwichin one hand, a cup of steaming coffeeout of the thermos bottle in the other. “Ihave a suspicion,” he said, “that you don’tlike my story.”

“Don’t get ideas like that, Bob, my lad,”said Pat. “We love your story. We justlike sandwiches better.”

“All right, then I won’t finish,” said Bob.“I’m going to be independent.”

Hal looked up. “Not finish? You’ve gotfinish any story you start.”

“One of the rules? There aren’t any rules.You just made that up.”

Hal was cajoling now. “Aw, come on,Bob. We want to hear the end. Come on, tell us the rest.”

Bob bit into a huge slice of cake. Heshook his head. “Nope, no end.”

“Well, at least about the Caterpillar Club.At least you’ll tell us how Lindy saved hislife by bailing out. We’ve got to hear that.”

But Bob was adamant. “I’ve been insulted.I’m not going on. Anyway, Lindydidn’t save his life once by bailing out ofa plane.”

“He didn’t? You said a little while agothat he did.”

“I didn’t say once. He became eligibleto the Caterpillar Club four times.”

Hal looked at Bob with disgust. “I mustsay that you’re being very disagreeable.”

Captain Bill, who had been looking on inamusement, suddenly laughed very loudly.“Don’t coax him, Hal. He doesn’t needcoaxing. He’s going to tell the rest of thestory, don’t you worry. Wild horses couldn’tkeep him from finishing the tale. Couldthey, Bob, old man?”

Bob looked over at his uncle and grinned.“Why, you old sinner. What a way totalk about your favorite nephew. But nowthat you mention it, maybe I did intend tofinish the story, seeing that I’d started it.Now, where was I?”

Pat was clearing up the debris made byfour men eating a picnic lunch. “You’vegot Lindbergh at the Nebraska flying schoolfor a long time.”

“Oh, not very long,” said Bob. “You see,he stayed there really a short time. In fact,he never did any solo flying there.”

“Well, why not?” asked Hal.

“They asked for a five-hundred dollarbond from every student before he went upon his first solo flight. This seemed silly toLindy, and he left the school.

“When he left, he did what so many ofthe flyers were doing then. He went outwest, and did stunting, risking his neck atcounty fairs and air circuses to give the peoplea thrill. He did, too. He handled hisplane like a toy, doing rolls, tail spins, andevery kind of stunt imaginable. But themost exciting thing that he did, and it usuallyisn’t an exciting thing at all, was landinghis plane. He could land on a dime, andas lightly as a feather. That’s really piloting, isn’t it, Bill?”

“You bet,” said the Captain. He wassprawled out on his back, enjoying his afterdinner rest. “A landing will show you yourflyer’s ability every time. Provided, of course, that he has a fairly decent landing field. DidI ever tell you the story that Hawks tellsin his autobiography? Do you mind if Iinterrupt for just a minute, Bob?”

“Oh, no, go right ahead,” said Bob, witheringly.“Go right ahead. I was just tellinga story.”

“Thanks,” said Captain Bill with a grin.“I will. Well, it seems that Hawks wasstunting down in Mexico, and doing quitea bit of private flying. He got a commissionto fly a Congressman and a General,I think it was, back to their home town ofHuatemo. Have you ever heard of Huatemo?I thought not. Well, Huatemo hadnever seen an airplane close up, and the twohigh muckamucks decided that they’d givethe natives a thrill by coming back via plane.Hawks had them wire ahead to have a landingfield prepared. The native officials wiredthat they had a fine field, clear of all obstructions, but dotted with a few small trees.‘Fine, says Hawks, but have them removethe trees immediately.’ The natives said thatthis had been done, and the party started out.

“After several adventures, Hawks flewover Huatemo, and prepared to spiral downto the landing field. Imagine his chagrinand surprise, my dear boys, when he discovered, that the officials of Huatemo had indeedcut down the Huateman trees, but had leftthe stumps standing!”

“Whew,” said Bob. “What did he do, turn around?”

“No, he couldn’t. And anyway, therewas no other place to land. The field wassurrounded by dense forests. He had tomake it. He brought his plane down withouthitting a stump, and then zig-zaggedwildly from stump to stump like a croquetball trying to miss wickets. And he missedthem all, too, except one. The wheel hit itan awful smack, and collapsed. The planetilted up on its nose, and came to rest withits propeller in the ground and its tail wavinggayly in the air, not at all like a properplane should.”

“And killed them all,” said Pat.

“Who, Hawks? Not on your life. He’sa lucky fellow. Not one of them was hurt.They climbed out of the plane, and weregreeted by the natives, joyously and withacclaim. And not one of the natives seemedto suspect in the least that this wasn’t theway a plane should land. Or at least theway a crazy American would land a plane.”The Captain finished his story, and paused.

“Well,” said Bob grudgingly, “that wasa good story, too. But, as I was saying,Lindy was a good stunter, and a good flyer.He decided that he wanted a plane of hisown. He heard that there was going to bea sale of army planes down in Georgia, andhe went down and bought a Curtiss Jennywith the money that he had saved from hisstunting work. He fixed it up, and wassoon off barnstorming again. But I guessthe Jenny was too clumsy a boat for Lindy.He wanted to fly the newer, better planesthat the army had. So he joined the army’straining school at Brook Field, San Antonio.This was when he was 22 years old.

“I guess he got along pretty fine at SanAntonio, and he was sent down to the pursuitschool at Kelly Field. He joined theCaterpillar Club there. It was the first timethat he had to jump from a moving planeand get down with his parachute. I guessit was a pretty close shave.”