He had gotten a ladder, but it was many feet too short. There was no apparent way to reach the lad. The father was part way up the ladder. He was calling to the boy to jump into his arms.
“Wait!” cried Jimmy, as he rushed up. “Don’t do that. You’ll both be hurt. There must be some other way.” His mind was working fast. An idea came to him. “Have you a rope?” he demanded.
“Sure. A long hay rope.”
“Let me have it quick,” said Jimmy. “We can save him with that.”
The rope was fetched. From his pocket Jimmy took a ball of twine he had been using back at his hangar. The twine was thin but strong. He picked up a long, thin stone, tied one end of the twine to it, called to the lad in the window to catch it, and threw the stone up to him. The first attempt failed. Jimmy threw the stone up again and the lad caught it. Jimmy tied the twine to the hay rope. Fearful lest the heavy rope break the twine, he mounted the ladder almost to its topmost rung, gathered up a great length of the rope to take the weight from the twine, and held the rope up toward the lad above him.
“Pull it up carefully, but hurry,” he said. “It’s hot on this ladder.”
Quickly the lad hauled up the twine, then carefully raised the rope until he could clutch the end of it. A cry of relief went up from the watching crowd as he grasped the rope. The lad disappeared within the attic, dragging the rope behind him. In a moment he reappeared at the window, slid out over the sill, and on down to the ladder. He had fastened the rope within the attic. Jimmy tarried on the ladder until the lad’s feet were firmly planted on a rung. Then he scrambled to earth, quickly followed by the lad he had rescued.
Once they were on the ground, the lad turned to Jimmy and held out his hand. Both boys gave a cry of astonishment. The lad who had just slid down the rope was Carl Dexter, Jimmy’s old friend in the Wireless Patrol. They grasped hands eagerly and greeted one another in a manner that astonished the crowd.
“Carl!” cried Jimmy. “I had no idea that was you. The light was so flickering and uncertain, and your hair is rumpled and I just didn’t recognize you. I didn’t know your father, either, but that is not strange. He has grown a beard since I saw him. I suppose I have grown so in the years since we met that he didn’t know me either. I’m awfully glad to see you. It has been more than two years since we met.”
“No more than I am to see you, Jimmy. But it’s terrible to see you under these circumstances. How did you get here? What brought you here?”
“I’ll tell you all about that later,” said Jimmy. “We’ve got to try to save the barn just now. The house will go sure.”
They ran to the endangered structure and found most of the neighbors battling hard to protect it. A bucket brigade had been formed. Water was being thrown on roof and wall. The dwelling was absolutely doomed. In the end, after a hard battle, the firemen succeeded in saving the barn, some other outbuildings, and all the stock and implements.
When a lull came in the fire fighting, Jimmy and his old friend drew off to one side, and Jimmy began to tell Carl how he happened to be flying in the neighborhood and how he discovered the fire. Suddenly he stopped talking and a strange look came into his face. He seemed to be debating something in his mind.
“Carl,” he said, “I’m in a queer position. I have no business to be here at all. I ought to be in Springfield. My managing editor thinks I am there. Gee! He might even have been trying to get me. He may have some orders for me. I never thought of that. I could slip right back there and maybe he’d never know the difference. But here’s a story. It’s a good story, even if I did have a part in it. ThePressought to have it. Maybe we can scoop the other New York papers on it. I’m going to shoot it in as quick as I can, no matter what the Old Man says about my taking too much rope. He can fire me if he wants to. But I’m not going to see thePressbeaten on its own story. Gee! He’d fire me for that, sure. How can I get to a telegraph office quickest?”
“In a motor car, I should think. Thank heaven the barn didn’t burn. Our car is in it. I’ll pull on some trousers and——By Jove! I don’t own any trousers. They are all burned up. I’ll go as I am. And I’ll get you to the telegraph office as fast as gasoline will take us.”
He did. Jimmy ran into the office and began to write. He handed the sheets to the operator as fast as they were written, with the injunction to rush the stuff. The operator ticked off the story as Jimmy wrote.
Because he was full of the matter, and because he could see so vividly in his mind the scene he was describing, Jimmy once more wrote a gripping story. He told in simple words how the pilot of theMorning Pressplane, flying over Wilbraham, had noticed flames issuing from a hillside home; how the pilot had awakened the sleeping inmates by diving at the house with roaring motor; how later the pilot and a farm boy had saved the life of a lad trapped in the third floor of the burning building; and how this rescued youth had proved to be a lifelong friend of the pilot.
“Gee,” said Jimmy, when he had finished the story, “I slipped up there. I forgot to get the name of that farm boy. I’ll let it go now, but I’ll be more careful next time.”
Then he wrote another message. It was to the managing editor.
At once the managing editor got into touch with him by telephone.
“We have further news about the New Hampshire flood,” he said. “It’s even bigger than I thought. I’m sorry I didn’t send another man with you.”
“I’ve got a friend here,” answered Jimmy, “who could help me if you are willing. It’s the lad we just saved from the fire. He’s an old friend. I can make good use of him. Shall I take him?”
“Get anybody you can who can help you,” was the answer.
Jimmy called out to Carl: “Could you go on up to New Hampshire with me and help me cover a flood story?”
“If they can spare me at home, I’ll go gladly if it will help you any.”
Jimmy turned back to the telephone. “I think it is all right, Mr. Johnson,” he said.
“Very well. Make all the speed you can. This is a big story and all the papers will be after it hot. Use the telegraph or the telephone if you break down. Make sure that we get the story and get it in plenty of time. And don’t forget that we want good pictures. They are more important than the story. We’ll get a story from the A. P., anyway. The telegraph editor tells me you just sent in a rattling good story about a fire. Keep it up. Get us an even better one about the flood. Good-bye.”
CHAPTER IX
Covering a Great Flood by Airplane
When Jimmy explained to Mr. Dexter that he needed help the next day and had asked Carl to assist him, Mr. Dexter reluctantly consented for Carl to go with him. Carl was really needed at home in this emergency, for there would be much to do. But Mr. Dexter was so grateful to Jimmy for saving his son’s life, and for perhaps saving all their lives, that he did not feel as though he could refuse the request. So it was settled that Carl and Jimmy should take off at dawn the next morning.
Neighbors lent the lad some shoes and clothes. And though these did not look very well, they answered the purpose all right. The question of shelter for the night was solved with equal ease. Neighbors took the homeless family into their own homes. Jimmy wanted to be near his plane. The lad who had guided Jimmy from his plane to the burning home said that his grandfather lived in the white house by the mowing where the plane was standing, and would be glad to take the two fliers in for the night. So Jimmy and Carl found themselves housed for the night in a very comfortable home, close by the airplane. They were assured that no one would molest the ship, for the big farm dog would drive off all intruders.
Relieved in his mind, Jimmy prepared to get some sleep, in preparation for the hard day he foresaw for the morrow. But before he went to bed, he got out his maps and studied the topography of the region over which he had to fly the next day. Northend, the town that had been wiped out by the flood, was some miles north of Berlin. It was at the lower end of a little valley, which was almost entirely surrounded by mountains. The Androscoggin River flowed through the little city.
“It’s plain enough what has happened,” said Jimmy to Carl. “There must have been a dam up the river and it gave way. There was no place for the wall of water to go but straight through the heart of Northend. These two mountains at the southern end of the town are like the shoulders of a bottle. There’s only a narrow neck between them, for the water to pass through. If this jammed up with debris, the whole town would be under water.”
They studied the map in silence for a few moments. “Gee!” said Carl. “There’s plenty of mountains up there. How are you going to get there?”
“We’ll fly directly up the Connecticut River, between Vermont and New Hampshire, until we pass South Columbia. Then we’ll fly east past the mountains until we strike the Androscoggin. We’ll follow that stream south to Northend. What we’ll do for a landing-place I don’t know. The map doesn’t look very promising. But I suspect we can pick out some place that will answer. Anyway, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. But you can remember to watch for possible landing-places after we leave the Connecticut to-morrow. That’s a rough country up there in northern New Hampshire.”
Their thoughtful hosts looked after the lads’ every need, even to lending them an alarm clock. Soon the boys were sound asleep in a bed as soft as down. It had been an exciting day for both of them, and each was ready for slumber.
When the alarm rang, Jimmy sat up in bed indignantly. “Confound that thing!” he said. “Something’s wrong with it. We haven’t been abed ten minutes.”
But his watch showed him that the only thing wrong was his own sense of time. It was almost dawn. The boys arose instantly and dressed quietly, so as not to disturb their hosts. They tiptoed down-stairs, their shoes in their hands. But when they reached the kitchen there was a surprise in store for them. Their hostess was not only up and dressed, but a substantial breakfast awaited them. Jimmy hardly knew what to say or how to thank her. She told him the best thanks would be for the two boys to eat a good breakfast. In that way they thanked her heartily enough. Then, bidding their kind hosts goodbye, the two lads hastened to the plane, started the engine, and soon hopped off.
Straight to Springfield they flew, and there Jimmy landed and had his supply of gasoline and oil replenished. Then they took off for the north, sailing straight up the valley of the Connecticut. On another occasion Jimmy would have been glad to fly leisurely along this beautiful river and enjoy the fine scenery. But to-day he had no time for anything but his job. Well he knew that hard on his heels would come rushing a whole company of newspaper men, if indeed some of them had not even preceded him in the dark. His job was to get to Northend as quickly as he could, and collect the material he needed. An hour’s start, he knew well, would make all the difference in the world to him. So he opened his throttle and pushed his ship along at a fast pace. He had considerably more than 200 miles to go, for he was playing safe by doubling around the mountains instead of flying directly over them. But in considerably less than two hours he had covered the route selected and was flying south along the Androscoggin, close to Northend. So far he had not seen a plane anywhere, and he believed he was the first news flier to reach the scene.
As he came south along the little river, the land began to rise in swelling heights to right and left, and the level bottom-land became narrower and narrower. Presently theMorning Pressfliers found themselves almost surrounded by mountains. It was like flying through a break in the side of a bowl into the bowl itself. Ahead of them, behind them, and to right and left of them, mountains rose, steep, rugged, and menacing. And in the very centre of this bowl-like valley lay Northend.
At the present moment the valley was in very truth a bowl, for it was fairly covered with water. From mountain to mountain the water reached, and what had been the city of Northend looked like a collection of tiny islets in the centre of the vast lake. Individual houses and blocks of buildings lifted their dark roofs above the turbid waters.
“Makes you think of huckleberries floating in a bowl of milk,” Carl shouted to Jimmy.
And that was what the scene did resemble. The huckleberries, of course, were houses. In the centre of the town the buildings rose in solid blocks, like squares of brown bread that had gotten in with the huckleberries. But in the residential districts the houses stood apart, well separated, and on the very outskirts of the town they were farther and farther apart. Isolated homes rose from the flood out in what must have been the suburban or rural regions. Nowhere within the limits of the city was there a foot of dry ground visible.
“It’s terrible,” shouted Jimmy. Carl nodded his head.
Jimmy made a complete circle around the little valley, at a good elevation. From that height he and Carl could see everything. Their vision ranged from mountain to mountain, unobstructed. Nowhere was there another plane. Nowhere was there evidence of activity, save in one or two places where small boats were being navigated from house to house. Jimmy was thrilled at the thought that he was the first outside correspondent actually to reach the scene. He resolved that he would also be the first to take to the outer world an eye-witness story of the disaster. He knew he must work fast to do it. Other newspaper men would soon be on his heels. They would be coming in droves.
“Get my camera,” he shouted to Carl, “and take a snap or two of the scene. Get a picture that shows the whole valley under water, with Northend in the centre of it.”
Carl could handle a camera, and leaning through an open window, he got several good pictures. The rising sun was shining down into the valley by this time, illuminating it well.
Now Jimmy brought his ship down in an easy glide until he was not more than 200 feet above the flood. He flew back and forth over the town. Carl snapped pictures as they flew and Jimmy watched every feature of the scene before him. Now he could see many people looking out of the upper floors of their homes. He could trace the course of the river by the line of debris and wreckage. For the flood had gone tearing through the city, wrecking, smashing, demolishing everything in its pathway. Before it had been swept a vast mass of material, consisting of outbuildings, uprooted trees, broken telephone poles, railroad ties, old boats, wooden bridges, sawlogs, pulp timber, porches, fences, boardwalks, demolished homes, and a thousand other objects that the rushing waters had wrenched loose or broken down or torn up. And all this mass of debris, jamming at the bottle neck, had backed the water up and submerged the town. Jimmy had read his map aright.
As he flew, Jimmy made mental note of striking things he saw. Here was a house tilting at an unbelievable angle, its underpinning evidently washed away. Here were motor cars standing on their roofs, only their four wheels showing above the flood. Here were the remains of an iron bridge that must have weighed scores of tons. Yet the iron work was rolled into a great mass, like a ball of rope, and the whole thing rested on a smashed front porch of a home. The entire front of the house was caved in by the force of the blow struck by the iron. Here were railroad cars turned upside down.
Through the centre of the town was a wide gap between rows of buildings. At first Jimmy did not catch the significance of this. He thought it was the river bed. Then something reminded him of the stream as he had seen it a few miles above Northend. There it was only a little river, a few rods wide. This breach in the centre of the town was of vast width. Suddenly Jimmy understood. Whole blocks of houses had been washed away. They must be jammed up with the other debris at the bottle neck below. He shuddered at the thought. The loss of life must have been appalling.
Along either side of this wide pathway of death, the flood waters had left their marks. Debris of every conceivable sort had been washed up on either side of the furrow the flood had plowed through the town, and there a million odd things had lodged. Old boxes, chicken-coops, boards, timbers, door-steps, wooden gates, tin cans, and a multitude of other things had been forced in between houses or up on porches, or through first floor windows, until the scene was terrible beyond description. It was plain enough where the wall of water from the broken dam had gone surging through the town. Like a giant among pygmies, it had mowed down everything in its path.
Back and forth Jimmy flew over the distressed city. On the flat tops of business buildings he saw many people. The upper floors of buildings seemed to teem with people. On the hills opposite the town he now saw figures moving. He judged they were people who had reached the heights before the flood overwhelmed the city, or else they were folks from the neighborhood who had come to the assistance of the marooned townspeople. Long ago, all those who could be rescued had been rescued, or had gone to their deaths. How many of them there were and who they were Jimmy could not even guess. But he knew the total must be terrible. He could not help to save anybody, but he could get into touch with the survivors and get the story of the disaster. He began to look about for some means of accomplishing this end.
Near the centre of the town was a building that stood up one or two stories higher than any other structure in the city. It was a great squarish building, that looked as firm as Gibraltar. Jimmy had noticed it as soon as he reached the town. He couldn’t help noticing it. And he also saw that there were people on the flat roof. Now he flew toward this building, dropping as low as he dared to come. Suddenly his eye shone with pleasure. On the front of the structure he caught sight of a large sign, with the gilded name “NorthendDaily News.” He glanced at the group of people on the roof. He was so close to them that he could almost tell the color of their eyes. To his astonishment he saw that a desk had been carried to the roof, together with many chairs, and that a man was seated at the desk, busily typewriting.
The sight stirred Jimmy’s heart. “It’s the editor of the NorthendNewswriting the story of the flood. I’ll bet a dollar it is,” thought Jimmy. “If only I can get that story, theMorning Presswill have the biggest scoop in years.”
He pulled out a pad and scribbled on it as he flew: “Have you the story of the flood? Can I get it from you? I am from the New YorkPress.” Then he turned to Carl. “In my tool kit you’ll find a large spool of safety wire,” he said. “Get that out, put a weight on it, and tie this note to it.”
Carl fished out the wire, weighted one end of it with a monkey-wrench, and tied the note to it. Then Jimmy headed directly into the stiff breeze which was coming up, and when they neared the building again throttled his engine down until the ship seemed hardly to have any forward motion. Carl, meantime, had paid out the wire. Several men on the roof grabbed for the message, but all missed it. Jimmy made a circle and once more flew over the roof. This time some one caught the note.
Jimmy circled the town and flew back over theNewsbuilding. Now he saw white marks on the roof. Some one had been making great letters with a piece of chalk. They were a message for him. This is what they said. “Have entire story. Press room flooded. Have made mats. Can you take to Berlin and arrange to have edition printed and sent here? A truck can reach west side of town by the hill road.”
When Jimmy read that he couldn’t suppress a whoop. “Carl,” he cried. “Just think! He’s got the story set up and the mats made for casting the stereotype plates. If we can get those mats, we can get proofs of the whole story. It’ll be the beat of the year.”
He scribbled another note. “Will land and try to reach you. Have everything ready. Will fly to Berlin with the mats and make arrangements for edition for you.” The next time he flew over theNewsbuilding, this message was skilfully dropped by Carl and caught by the group on the roof.
“They got it,” shouted Carl.
Jimmy smiled and nodded. Then he pulled back on his stick, lifted his plane to a higher elevation, and went soaring straight toward the nearest hillside, looking for a possible landing-place.
On a hillside farm he found a place that looked favorable. Twice he flew over the place studying it. The ground seemed rough. He was fearful of it. But he saw no better place and decided to chance it. He came down in a long glide, barely missing some trees. Then he straightened out for a landing. His plane was just skimming the ground, and Jimmy was waiting for it to lose flying speed when he noticed a low stone wall at the other end of the field. Jimmy knew he was overshooting too much to dare attempt to kill his surplus speed by fish-tailing. He burst the gun wide open and eased back on the stick. In a second the ship was once more over the tree tops, and Jimmy circled back again into the wind for another try at the field. He did a nose high slip and then proceeded in disgust to pancake her in. It was a dangerous move, even for the most skilled pilot, for always there is danger of falling off on one wing, due to a lack of flying speed. The ship was settling vertically. Just before she hit, Jimmy burst the gun half open to give her a little more forward speed, so she would not settle so hard on her undercarriage. Then she struck, but not hard enough to break anything. Rapidly she came to rest. With a sigh of relief he throttled down his engine and climbed from the plane. He let his motor idle for a few minutes, then cut the switch.
“We’ll go over to those folks yonder and talk to them,” he said, starting toward a group of people who were doing something at a distance.
They hurried to the workers. A number of people who lived on the hills were busy making rafts at the water’s edge to rescue the marooned; for there were many folks in the flooded area whose position was still precarious. Jimmy talked to the workers. They told him the story of the breaking of the dam. This was a huge reservoir in the hills, only a short distance above the city. Continuous rains to the north had swollen every brook and rivulet until the impounded water had reached a threatening height. There was anxiety about the dam, but no actual fear of its breaking. Then suddenly, without warning, the dam had slid from its foundations, releasing the entire body of water at once. That was what made the catastrophe so awful.
A wall of water thirty feet high had swept down the valley. Naturally it followed the trough of the Androscoggin. That stream, already bank full, could not hold another drop. The result was appalling. Straight through the town the huge wall of water had gone, thundering and destroying, smashing and devastating, sweeping away houses as though they had been chips. Whole blocks of buildings, on either bank of the stream, had been picked up and swept down-stream. Jimmy’s guess was correct.
Scores had been killed or were missing. Had the disaster occurred in the daytime, it might have been possible to save many of them. But coming as it did, just at nightfall, the flood had done its worst. To venture out into the roaring waters in the dark was sheer suicide. There had been some rescues. They told Jimmy about those they knew of. There had been many deeds of daring. Jimmy learned the stories. Now a great effort was being made to save those who were still in danger. For the waters were yet deep and the current swift. Indeed, in the centre of the town the water was still eight feet deep and sweeping along swiftly, cutting away ground, undermining houses, uprooting poles, and spreading destruction. The work of rescue had been made difficult through the loss of boats. Most of the boats in the town had been swept away in the first fierce rush of water.
There was one little boat at hand. It was a rickety, sorry-looking craft, and it evidently leaked badly. But still it was a boat. Jimmy looked at it. He decided that it would hold together for a few hours longer.
“Who owns this boat?” he inquired.
“I do,” said a farmer. “But it ain’t much of a boat. I caught it in the flood last night.”
“I’ll give you five dollars for it for one hour,” said Jimmy.
“You can have it,” said the farmer, “but I warn you it ain’t safe to get in it. We tried it and had to come back. The thing almost sunk with us.”
“We’ll try it,” said Jimmy. “Got something we can bail with?”
The farmer got them an old pail. There were oars in the boat. Jimmy got two strong poles from a pile of wood that lay near.
“Come on, Carl,” he said, stepping toward the craft. “Let’s empty her.”
They drew the boat ashore and turned it on its side. When the water had run out, they pushed the craft into the flood, stepped carefully into it, and shoved off. The farmer’s description had not been exaggerated. Water began to seep into the boat rapidly.
“Take the oars and row as hard as you can, Carl,” said Jimmy. “I’ll bail and tell you how to pull.”
Carl began to row rapidly, and Jimmy started to throw out the water. By bailing vigorously he could just about keep up with it. They made good progress until they came to the built up part of the town. Here the water rushing between the houses caused eddies and delaying currents. But they kept on steadily, Jimmy telling Carl which way to pull, while he himself tossed out bucket after bucket of water. Without the bucket they would have sunk in a short time.
They drove straight out toward the street on which theNewsbuilding stood. There they turned and floated straight down the street with the current. The waters were still tearing along between the houses at a terrifying rate. It was appalling to think what it must have been like when the flood was at its crest. There was little to do now except bail and steer. There was still plenty of drifting debris in the water, and this made it dangerous. Always there was the chance that some half sunken log, swirling up beneath them, would overturn their boat and catapult them into the flood.
They drew near theNewsbuilding. “We’ve got to be sure we make it,” said Jimmy. “If we are carried past, it will be a deuce of a job getting back. Get your rope in hand. Put your oars in the boat. I’ll steer her with a pole. Grab a window-frame. I’ll knock out the glass if necessary.”
They drew swiftly near theNewsbuilding. It had suffered, like every other building in town. The water was up to the second story. Apparently it was going to be difficult to make a landing.
“Get ready now,” cautioned Jimmy. “If we miss her, I’ll try to shoot the boat around the corner of the building. There’ll be an eddy there. Grab anything you can catch hold of, and hold fast to your rope.”
Jimmy forced the boat toward a second-story window. The window was closed. It looked as though they would have a hard time to make an entrance. Jimmy raised his pole to smash the glass. He was just about to strike, when the sash was flung up and a man’s head thrust through the window.
“Give me your rope, quick,” said the man.
Carl thrust out his hand with the rope. The man took the rope and carefully snubbed the boat. “Look out,” he cried. “Watch that you don’t get thrown out.”
The boat swung round in the current and came to rest alongside the building. Jimmy and Carl climbed carefully through the window, helped by the man within.
“We are the fliers who dropped you the message,” said Jimmy. “We’ve come for the mats.”
“Good,” said the man. “Come up on the roof and talk to the boss.”
They ran up the steps to the roof. There sat the man Jimmy had seen at the desk. He was still typewriting. Jimmy made himself known.
“I’m from the New YorkMorning Press,” he said. “Tell me about the flood, and about your own situation and what you want me to do.”
“No use to tell you anything,” said the editor. “Every word I know about the flood is already in type. You can have complete proofs of it if you will take my mats to the office of the Berlin newspaper and get them to print the edition. I want 5,000 copies. They can send them back here by truck or any way they wish, but I must have them at the first possible moment. We’ll establish headquarters over on the shore, near the place from which you started. We’ve been watching every move you made. That’s near the highway that skirts the west side of the valley. Tell them to send their papers there just as quick as they can get them printed. By that time the water will have gone down some and maybe altogether. They are making arrangements to dynamite the jam at the gorge below town. That will let the water drain out.”
Meantime, a printer had been wrapping the mats up carefully in oiled paper. Another man had attached a long rope to Jimmy’s boat and had worked the boat around into the eddy at the down-stream side of the building. Still another printer came to the roof with duplicate sets of proofs for Jimmy.
The latter assured theNewseditor that he would not fail to carry out his commission. “I ask just one thing,” he said. “Give me an assurance that I have a start over the next reporter.”
“I’ll do that,” said the editor. “I can’t hold out any news, if any reporter questions me, but I’ll give out no more proofs. That’s only fair. It’s in return for your help. Now you’ll have to be hurrying, for there comes your first competitor.”
Jimmy whirled and looked upward. Sure enough, there was another plane coming down the valley.
Jimmy delayed only long enough to talk to some of the men on the roof. He soon found they knew little except the general story of the flood. They were all employees of theNews. All had been at work in the building when the flood overwhelmed the town on the previous evening. They had remained there because they believed they were safe in the big steel and stone structure. But reporters had managed to get abroad and before the telephone lines were all down they had telephoned in dozens of stories about the flood. Later some of them had made their way back to theNewsbuilding in a boat, with detailed stories of rescues, deaths and drownings, heroic acts, and the names of the flood victims whose bodies had been recovered and identified. And now Jimmy had proofs of all their stories, together with all the tales he and Carl had picked up, and their photographs and mental pictures of what was left of Northend.
No wonder Jimmy wanted to be off with this treasure trove, when he saw a competitor winging toward the town. Bidding farewell to theNewseditor, Jimmy and Carl carefully entered their boat, bailed it, and shoved off. The trip back was even harder than the journey out to theNewsbuilding, for now Jimmy had a great roll of mats to keep dry. He was forced to bail with one hand. It was difficult work to keep up with the incoming water, but he toiled like a Trojan and almost kept up. By the time they reached the shore there must have been two inches of water in the boat, but that meant nothing to either lad.
Jimmy paid the farmer for the use of his boat. He delayed a little to ask further questions about the flood, and picked up additional incidents; for several people had joined the rescue group while he and Carl were gone. Just as Jimmy was starting for his ship, he saw that the other airplane was landing close to where his own ship stood. He delayed to see who the newcomer was. He was sorry enough he had waited, when the latter stepped from his plane. It was Rand, a man who formerly worked for theMorning Pressand who had been discharged by Mr. Johnson because he utterly failed to solve the problem of the air mail bandits, whereas Jimmy had uncovered the whole story.
Even before that event occurred, Rand had disliked Jimmy. But since Rand had been discharged by theMorning Presshe had hated Jimmy with malignant intensity. He had done everything he could, at every turn, to trick and discredit him. And Jimmy knew well that the fellow would hardly stop at anything to accomplish his purpose. Now Jimmy walked briskly by him, merely nodding. But Rand answered the nod with a cutting oath.
In a few minutes Jimmy and Carl hopped off for Berlin. Almost straight south they flew, with the Milan Hills on their right and the Chickwolrepy Mountain on their left. It was no distance at all to Berlin. At least, it took almost no time at all to reach that city. But Jimmy had to circle several times before he was willing to land. Even then he was fearful of the result. For the only place that looked possible was the flat land along the river, and this had been under water. Even yet there were little pools here and there in the depressions. Jimmy was afraid his plane might bog down and nose over. If it did, that was the end of his flight—the flight that promised so much for him.
For a moment he was tempted to go on, and mail the mats back from the next town. But he had promised to put them in the hands of the Berlin editor. Jimmy always tried to make his word as good as his bond. So now, after studying the ground carefully, he picked out the most promising looking spot and came down in a long glide. Just as his ship was about to hit the ground, he gave her the gun for a second, to increase her momentum, set her down on three points, and held his breath. The field was not as wet as it looked, and the mud was only surface mud. His ship rolled safely to a stop.
Jimmy was out of her in a flash. Throwing off his parachute, and leaving Carl to guard the plane, he hurried off with his mats. In no time he found the editor of the Berlin paper, delivered the mats and the message, and was back at his ship. But on the way he had stopped at a garage to engage some gasoline. Soon a tank wagon rolled up, and Jimmy’s tanks were quickly filled. Then, waving good-bye to the circle of admiring small boys, Jimmy hopped off.
A great, bald-faced, precipitous hill rose to the west of the town. Jimmy circled over the city, to gain altitude. Below him he noticed the great pulp mill and the enormous pile of pulp wood, that rose like a little mountain close beside the river. The whole atmosphere was redolent of the sulphur used in making paper.
But Jimmy had little interest now in sightseeing. The instant he had gained sufficient altitude, he darted away to the west, shot between the hills, and sped straight as an arrow to Lancaster, the nearest town on the Connecticut.
Then he banked to the left and with throttle opened wide went roaring down the valley of that river, over the same route by which he had come. He dropped Carl at Springfield, after getting his promise that when things were straightened out at home Carl would come to New York to visit him.
Again he took off, and this time he did not come to earth again until he landed at his home field. A taxi once more took him to thePressoffice, where he delivered his news proofs and films to the city editor, then sat down and for a long time worked industriously at his typewriter, putting down on paper the description of what he had seen and learned at Northend.
His trip back to Long Island was a pleasant one. Again he had been equal to the occasion. Once more he had made good. But there was one memory of his recent trip that left a bad taste in his mouth. That was the thought of Rand. On several occasions now he had gotten the better of the fellow. Each time Jimmy had triumphed over him, Rand had made his hatred more evident, had tried meaner tricks to thwart Jimmy. But never before had Rand cursed him at sight or seemed so venomously hostile.
“I’ll have to watch him carefully,” thought Jimmy. “He is vicious enough to do most anything.” And Jimmy was right, as coming events were to prove.
CHAPTER X
Jimmy Visits a Lightship off the Coast
For some time after his flight to Northend Jimmy found life rather tame. No really big stories happened in the eastern part of the country. So Jimmy was occupied from day to day with minor tasks that provided little excitement. Yet all the while he was learning more about his job. From day to day he talked with fellow pilots at the Long Island airport, and drew from them as much as he could in the way of helpful suggestions about flying. For some of them had had extremely trying experiences. Whenever he was with newspaper men Jimmy asked as many questions as he could about reporting and news coverage. He bore in mind what the managing editor had said to him: “If you continue to improve, you’ll make a great reporter some day.” It was Jimmy’s ambition to be one of the very best. So he welcomed every experience that added to his knowledge.
Even when his work seemed tamest he was acquiring facts and knowledge with surprising rapidity; and all that he learned enlarged his background and was just so much preparation for the day when he should truly become a great reporter. One of his assignments was to fly out to an incoming steamer in a seaplane and bring ashore some important news photographs from Europe. It was on this flight that Jimmy had his first sight of a lightship anchored at sea. He was instructed to meet the incoming ship near the Ambrose lightship, off the entrance to the Ambrose Channel that leads from the deep water of the sea up to the New York harbor.
Jimmy knew the approximate hour of the steamship’s arrival at that point. He flew out to sea a little early, to be certain that he was on time. He was to get the pictures when the ship slowed down to pick up the pilot who was to guide her up the channel to her dock. Arrangements had been made by wireless with the photographer, who was aboard the liner. He was to get the pictures down to Jimmy in the seaplane.
When the latter reached the lightship, the ocean liner was not yet in sight. Jimmy decided that he would not fly out to sea to meet her. He was a little distrustful of all this vast stretch of water about him. He had been ordered to meet the ship when she picked up her pilot. The pilot boat was cruising not far away. Jimmy decided that he would come down on the water, which was very calm, and take a look at the lightship. So he flew close to the vessel, then came down in a long glide, and was soon bobbing safely on the gentle swells of the Atlantic.
The lightship was only a few hundred feet distant. Jimmy turned the nose of his plane toward the vessel and taxied to a point close to leeward of it. He had never seen such a curious craft. It was a clumsy, bunty sort of ship, apparently not more than a hundred feet long, with bulging, bulky bow, like that of a Dutch canal-boat. The sides of the vessel were very high for a ship of her length. The ship was a straw color; and painted on her hull in huge letters was the wordAmbrose. She had two masts, and at the top of each mast was apparently a guide light, protected by a circular black iron grating, to flash out warning signals in the dark.
Jimmy taxied as close to the ship as he dared. The crew of ten or a dozen men was lined up along the leeward rail, watching him. Apparently the men thought he wished to board the ship, for one of them had a light line in his hand. Seeing that, Jimmy decided he would go aboard. He scanned the sea and saw no sign of an approaching liner. Then he forced his plane a very little closer to the lightship and waited. At once the man with the coil of rope drew back his arm and flung the line straight toward Jimmy. It sped through the air, uncoiling as it flew, and dropped lightly on the fuselage of the plane. Jimmy stepped out on a wing and secured the line. In another moment he had been drawn close up to the ship. A port opened. A sailor skilfully drew one wing up to the side of the ship, holding it so it would not bump the vessel. Jimmy walked out on the wing and climbed aboard the vessel. At once his plane was allowed to drift a few fathoms to leeward, where it was safe.
The sailors, eager for news from shore, flocked around Jimmy. They plied him with questions. When he had answered all they asked, he put a few questions himself. He wanted to know about all the interesting things he saw. The huge anchor chain and the anchor itself interested Jimmy. The chain was the thickest chain Jimmy had ever seen. The links were made of iron two inches thick, and each link was strengthened by a cast-iron stud. Jimmy whistled when the captain told him that a single fathom of the chain weighed close to 200 pounds, and that the entire chain, measuring only 120 fathoms, weighed about twelve tons. Of course, the chain had to be moved by an engine.
The anchors, too, attracted Jimmy. One of them was at the bottom of the sea, of course, but the other was stopped fast at the bow of the vessel, ready to be let down at a moment’s notice. It was a mushroom anchor, and got its name from its shape; for it looked for all the world like a huge metal toadstool. The circular edge of the anchor was sharp, so it would bite into the bottom of the sea easily.
But the thing that interested Jimmie most was the light. This, the captain said, was an occulting white light, that was visible for twelve out of every fifteen seconds. The light at the forward masthead is always used, excepting when that light is out of commission. Then the after light shines.
“If there was a string of lights like this one, each with a distinctive flash,” said Jimmy, “a fellow could find his way by night at sea as easily as he can follow his route on land when he follows the Air Mail beacons.”
“There is a string of lights all along the coast,” said the captain, “and each has its distinctive flash. Most of them are on land, but a few are floating lights, like this, which mark danger points far out from shore.”
Jimmy discovered that the great twelve-inch steam fog-whistle blows for three seconds in each fifteen, when the fog is bad at this light station, and the fog bell rings once every thirty seconds. Once every twelve seconds the submarine bell strikes two groups of two strokes each. And the radio fog-signal of theAmbroselightship is a continuous string of dashes, exactly like the signal of the radio beacons along the lighted airway. Thus, whether a passing ship’s captain sees the light or merely hears the fog-horn, or detects the radio signal, he knows what lightship he is passing.
Jimmy was so much interested in learning about the lightship that he could have spent hours aboard of her, but the captain warned him that the liner was visible on the horizon. Jimmy knew it was time for him to be stirring. His plane was drawn up to the ship and he got carefully aboard of her. Soon he was in the air. He came down close to the pilot-boat, which was ready to put a pilot aboard the approaching steamer. The men on this boat said they would get his photographs for him when they put the pilot aboard the liner.
The big steamer came plowing along, her speed gradually lessening, until she was practically at a standstill. Meantime a rowboat had taken the pilot from the pilot-boat to the side of the liner. The pilot climbed up the ladder at the side of the ship and spoke to the photographer who stood at the rail, ready with his photographs. These were carefully wrapped for protection. He handed them to a sailor who slipped down the ladder with them and put them in the hands of one of the men in the rowboat. The little craft headed about and pulled for the pilot-boat. The liner began to move slowly and presently was steaming away at a rapid rate.
Jimmy was all ready to board his plane when the men got back with his pictures. He stowed them in his coat, climbed carefully aboard his ship, and floated away to a safe distance. Then he rose from the water, headed his plane straight for his landing-place on the southern shore of Long Island, and went streaking back with his pictures. He gave them to a waiting messenger and hustled to get back to his own field.
As he drew near the hangar he noticed great activity. Mechanics were bustling about, ships were on the line, ready to take off, and pilots were getting into their flying togs. Jimmy knew something was in the air. He was just about to ask some one what was up when a mechanic who looked after his ship spied him and shouted: “Call up your office. You are wanted. There’s a big story that broke up in Pennsylvania. I’ve got your ship ready to go at a moment’s notice. She’s been warming up for half an hour.”
CHAPTER XI
Jimmy is Tricked by His Rival
In a moment Jimmy was in telephonic communication with his chief. “There has been a big coal mine disaster, Jimmy,” said Mr. Johnson. “We have just received a despatch from Shenandoah about it. The mine is near that city. More than one hundred men are believed to have been imprisoned in the mine. It is not known how many are dead or whether any of the entombed miners are still alive. We want as complete a story of the disaster as you can gather in a short time, and we particularly want photographs. You’ve got just about time enough to get there and get some photographs before dark. You can pick up your story after you get your pictures. Then hustle back here. If you make as good time as you have made on some other assignments, you can get back here before 10:30. You ought to make it by 11:00 for sure, and youmustbe here by 11:15. I would send Handley with you, but he is in Phillipsburg on a story. I will try to get into touch with him by phone, and order him to go to Shenandoah, to follow up the story to-morrow.”
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Johnson,” said Jimmy. “Good-bye. I’m off.” And in less than no time hewasoff.
The minute Jimmy had reached a safe altitude and was straightened out on his course, he began to consider how he should cover this story. He had never reported the story of a coal mine disaster. He was a little uncertain as to how to get at it.
First of all, there was the matter of topography. Shenandoah was in the very heart of the anthracite region in Pennsylvania. That meant it was right among the hills. Jimmy knew the region well. It was almost on the Air Mail route. In fact, in a straight line it was only three miles from Ringtown. But a great ridge—the North Mahanoy Mountain, that towered aloft almost 1,900 feet—rose between Ringtown and Shenandoah. The highway between the two places, circuitous and winding, was probably twice that distance. Jimmy was of course sure that he could make a landing at Ringtown. But whether he could do so at Shenandoah or not, he did not know. The town itself occupied almost every foot of the level land in the little bottom in which it stood. On every side the ground rose sharply.
Jimmy managed to get the proper topographic map from his map case. Folding it in small compass he studied it as he flew along. The only place where there seemed to be even the possibility of making a safe landing was in the tiny bottom along Lost Creek, southwest of the town. But the more Jimmy studied the map, the more impossible this place seemed for his purpose. Jimmy finally decided that he would not take a chance. He would land at Ringtown, get a motor car, and drive to Shenandoah.
“If Johnnie Lee is home,” thought Jimmy, “there won’t be a bit of trouble about that. Johnnie will take me over there in his car. That will be just the thing, too. Then he can help me cover the story. I can tell him what to do and he can do it readily enough. It will give him a start toward reporting. Johnnie will know the country round about, too, and that may be a very great advantage. For I see now that it is going to hustle me to get back on time. I’m sure glad this has turned out this way.”
A load seemed to drop from Jimmy’s mind. He had come to a decision as to his course. Now he had only to drive ahead as fast as possible along the way he had chosen. He felt his confidence growing.
Suddenly he heard his own name sounding in his head phones. “The New YorkPressspeaking to Jimmy Donnelly,” said the voice. “We have been in touch with Handley at Phillipsburg. He will go with you to Shenandoah. Land at Easton and wait for him. He is on the watch for you.”
Jimmy hardly knew whether to be pleased or sorry. He would be glad enough of Handley’s help. Even the two of them could not clean up the story in the short time Jimmy would have at the scene of the disaster. But now that Jimmy saw an opportunity to help his friend Johnnie Lee, he rather regretted that Handley was to join him. They could hardly bother with Johnnie now.
These thoughts went through Jimmy’s mind in an instant. They did not prevent him from answering promptly theMorning Pressmessage. He put his mouthpiece to his lips and said: “Jimmy Donnelly talking to the New YorkPress. I have your message about Handley and will wait for him at Easton.”
When Jimmy reached that city, it looked for a little time as though he would not be able to keep his word. It hardly seemed possible to make a landing. But west of the city Jimmy found some fields and got down safety, though he had a scare when he saw a fence loom up suddenly before him. His plane struck sand and came to a stop within ten feet of the fence.
Jimmy hopped out of the ship and looked about him. Handley was nowhere in sight. “He’ll have to come along pretty soon if we are to get the stuff back to New York in time,” thought Jimmy. “I wonder if there is anything I could do to help matters.”
He thought of Johnnie Lee. “If I could talk to him,” muttered Jimmy, “I could put him right to work.”
With Jimmy, to think was to act. Not far away was a house. Jimmy raced over to it, and was rejoiced to see that telephone wires ran to the house. He knocked at the door. A pleasant faced woman answered his knock.
“Good afternoon,” said Jimmy, politely. “I need very much to use a telephone. May I use yours?”
The woman looked him over. “I take it you are the pilot of the plane that just landed,” she said.
“I am,” said Jimmy, “and I am in a trying situation. It will help me greatly if I may use your phone.”
“Go ahead,” she said. “You are welcome. I’ll be glad if it will help you.”
Jimmy called for the long-distance operator and asked for the Lee home in Ringtown. He begged the operator to hurry the call, as it was an urgent one. In a very few moments Jimmy had his connection. To his delight, Johnnie himself answered the telephone. Jimmy recognized his voice at once.
“Hello, Johnnie,” he said. “This is Jimmy Donnelly. Have you heard anything about a mine explosion in your neighborhood?”
“We sure have,” said Johnnie. “It was near Krebs. It was a terrible affair.”
“Where’s Krebs?” demanded Jimmy.
“About two miles from here. It’s at the foot of North Mahanoy Mountain.”
“What do you know about the disaster, Johnnie?”
“A lot, Jimmy. My father’s first cousin, Pat Healy, telephoned us all about it. He’s a foreman in the mine, and was just on his way out when the explosion occurred. He got out all right, though he was hurt some. But he says there are scores of men entombed.”
“Can you get hold of him again, Johnnie?” cried Jimmy, his voice almost shaking with eagerness.
“Sure. He lives near us. Why?”
“It’s like this, Johnnie. I’m on my way out to cover this story. I’ve got to get pictures and as much of the story as I can pick up in a little while. But I had to land in Easton to pick up Mr. Handley. That’s going to delay me a lot. This is a chance for you to show what you can do in collecting news. Will you try it?”
“Will I? You bet your neck I will. What do you want me to do?”
“Have you got a camera?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Then get some pictures of the wrecked mine if you can, and of the mine entrance, injured miners, crowds at the shaft, or anything else that will illustrate the story.”
“I can do that easily. I can drive to the mouth of the mine in less than ten minutes. I’ll hustle right over and get all the pictures I can. Anything else?”
“Sure. Get the story. Get hold of your father’s cousin again. Find as many survivors as possible. See anybody you can who is in authority at the mine and get a statement from him. Get all the details you can.”
“Just what do you want, Jimmy?”
“Find out what happened, when it happened, where it happened, how it happened, why it happened, and to whom it happened. Get every detail you can about every phase of the story. Get the names of the dead and injured, if possible. Find out how many are still in the mine. Maybe Mr. Healy can tell you. Get a story of the explosion from him. Find out how it happened and what caused it. Get Mr. Healy to tell you about the mine itself—what it is like, whether there is any chance for rescue, whether there are places where the imprisoned men can take refuge in the mine. Ask all the questions you can think of. Try to get enough stuff together so you can tell me a complete story of the disaster when I get there.”
“I’ll do it, Jimmy. I’m off this minute. Good-bye.”
Jimmy said good-bye and rang off. “That was a lucky thought,” he muttered, “to set Johnnie to work. He’s evidently got the inside track. He may be able to get the whole story.”
Jimmy ascertained the amount of his tolls and paid the woman. She had heard his talk with Johnnie and was intensely interested. She asked Jimmy question after question about his work as a flying reporter. Before Jimmy knew it, half an hour had passed. Then he noticed a clock and frowned. He looked out at his plane. Some small boys had gathered about it, but there was no sign of Handley. Fifteen minutes more passed, and Jimmy was growing desperate. Finally he reached for the telephone again. “Please get me the New YorkMorning Press” he told the operator.
When Jimmy finally got his connection, he called for Mr. Johnson. “Have you any idea how long it is going to take Handley to reach me here at Easton?” he asked. “I’ve waited for him more than an hour already. I’ve got to push on if I am to get any photographs.”
“What’s this about Handley and Easton and waiting an hour? What are you talking about?” demanded the managing editor.
“What am I talking about!” exclaimed Jimmy. “I am talking about Handley. You ordered me to wait for him in Easton. I’ve been here at Easton for more than an hour. Can you give me any idea how soon he will arrive? I can’t possibly wait much longer if I am to get back with the story in time for the midnight edition.”
“You’re in Easton! Waiting for Handley! What are you talking about? I never ordered you to stop at Easton. You ought to be in Shenandoah this very minute.”
“You never ordered me to stop at Easton!” cried Jimmy. “Somebody did. I received a radio message forty minutes after I took off, telling me you had ordered Handley to join me here and ordering me to wait for him. I acknowledged the message and supposed you had my acknowledgment.”
“Somebody has put one over on you, Jimmy,” said the managing editor. “It’s a pretty bad business. But we have no time to discuss it now. Get on to Shenandoah as fast as you can and do the best you can. I want to see you about this as soon as you get back here. Now hustle.”
Jimmy was mortified, angry, and anxious. His face showed his anxiety. He paid his telephone tolls and raced back to his plane. As fast as he could, he got his ship into the air. Then he opened his throttle as far as it would open and went streaking along the Air Mail route for Ringtown.
In less than half an hour he dropped down on the landing field at that place. He leaped from his plane, threw off his flying togs, and raced for Johnnie Lee’s house. Johnnie’s mother met him at the door.
“Johnnie’s expecting you,” she said. “He called up a few minutes ago and said you should call him at Healy’s when you arrived. Come in. I’ll get the connection for you.” And in no time she had it. She asked for Johnnie and handed the receiver to Jimmy.
“Hello, Johnnie,” he said. “This is Jimmy. I just arrived at your house. Where are you? How can I get into touch with you?”
“I’m at Healy’s. It’s straight down the road. Mother will show you the way. Come over as quick as you can. Mr. Healy is talking to me now.”
Jimmy hung up the receiver, got directions from Mrs. Lee, and raced down the road. In ten minutes he was in the Healy home.
“What have you done and what have you learned?” Jimmy demanded, after Johnnie had introduced him to Mr. Healy.
“I went right over to the mine with my camera, after you called me, and I have a whole roll of films for you—a dozen pictures. They ought to be good, for the conditions were just right for taking them. I got a picture of the mine mouth, the crowd about it, some snaps of the rescue crews descending into the mine, one of an injured miner who was hurt in the attempt at rescue, and other similar pictures.”
“Good! They are just what I want. What about the story?”
“I believe I have the whole thing. Mr. Healy was in the mine when the explosion occurred. In fact, he was close to the very spot where it happened. He saw the explosion occur. He was injured slightly, but not disabled. He gathered together all the men within call and started for an old opening that is no longer used. The explosion had prevented escape through the shaft used nowadays. Gases began to spread through the mine, and the men with Mr. Healy were overcome one by one. Those still able to walk tried to drag the others out. But the only man who got out on his own feet was my cousin. He dragged out one man. Then he collapsed himself. He came to in about half an hour and managed to stagger home. He telephoned about the man he had dragged out, and some miners came and got him. We heard about it over the telephone, just before you called me from Easton.”
“Won’t you repeat your story to me, Mr. Healy?” asked Jimmy. “Just start at the beginning. Tell me what the conditions were like in the mine when the explosion came. That is, about how many men you think went into the mine, how many were still in it, and what the mine is like. Give me a mental picture of it, so I can follow your story. Then start again with the explosion and tell me what you saw and did.” For half an hour Mr. Healy talked steadily, stopping only when he was interrupted by Jimmy with a question. He gave Jimmy an excellent picture of the mine workings. Mr. Healy had been a foreman in this particular mine for years, and knew every foot of it as workers above ground know the cities in which they live. Then he told of the explosion, pictured the damage it did, showed how it shut off escape by the newer shaft, and pictured the situation of the imprisoned men. He estimated their number at more than one hundred.
“If the gas was as severe in other chambers as it was where we were,” he said, “most of those one hundred men are now dead. I have been using the telephone, and so far as I can learn, we two men who got out through the old drift are the only men who have escaped. Unless some of the miners were able to retreat to dead ends of passages, ahead of the gas, and make air-tight barricades to keep the gas out, I fear every man in the mine is past help. But we shall not know for sure until the rescue crews have searched every foot of the workings. That will take many hours, and perhaps some days.”
Jimmy checked back over his notes. His story seemed to be very complete. He asked for a few more details about this point or that. Then he thrust his notes into his pocket. “You have given me a very complete account, Mr. Healy,” he said. “I can write a mighty clear story just from these notes. But I must see the mine myself, and the mine mouth, and the crowds, and if possible I must talk with some of the officials. You don’t feel well enough to go over there with me, do you?”
“Yes, I am all right now,” said Mr. Healy. “I’ll be glad to go with you.”
They hurried out to Johnnie’s car and were rushed over to the mouth of the mine, which was hardly more than a mile distant. Parking the car, the three walked about through the crowd, observing, asking questions, gathering up what incidents they could.
“There’s the superintendent,” said Mr. Healy, as a large man came out of one of the mine buildings. “Would you like to talk to him?”
“I surely would,” answered Jimmy.
“Then come on.”
They walked toward the man. While they were still at some distance from him, they saw a young man hurry up to him and lay a detaining hand on his arm. The superintendent looked surprised. The young man said something. The superintendent brushed him roughly aside and went on. He seemed angry. He was still frowning when he came face to face with Mr. Healy and the two lads.
“Pat, I’m mighty glad to see you,” said the superintendent, “but I am mighty sad to see you alone. I fear it’s all up with the men underground.”
“This young man wants to talk to you,” said Mr. Healy. “He’s a reporter from New York.”
“So was that jackass that just tried to stop me,” said the superintendent. “I don’t want to talk to reporters.”
“But this lad is a very good friend of mine,” urged Mr. Healy. “And he is a gentleman. I know you will be willing to talk to him.”
“Well, what is it?” said the superintendent. “I haven’t much time to spare. This is a crowded hour for me.”
“Thank you very much,” said Jimmy. “I know how you feel. I don’t blame you for not wanting to talk about this terrible affair. I appreciate your courtesy.” Then Jimmy began to ask questions, in a courteous, considerate manner. The mine official gave him all the information he asked for.
When the interview was ended, the superintendent walked on. So did the Healy party.
Presently Jimmy heard a voice saying: “There he is. He’s the only man who escaped unaided. He dragged out another man, and they are the only men who have reached the surface so far.”
“I’ll get a statement from him,” replied another voice.
Jimmy knew this latter voice well—too well. He began to tremble with anger. A sudden light shone in upon him. Now he understood the game that had been played upon him. Now he knew who had tricked him into landing at Easton. The voice he was listening to was the voice of Rand.
Like a shot Jimmy turned to Johnnie. “If you think anything of me, Johnnie,” he said, “don’t let your cousin talk to the fellow who is coming to interview him. It’s Rand, the fellow I have told you about. It was Rand who stopped the superintendent a little while ago, though at a distance I did not recognize him. But I know well enough now who it was.”
Johnnie laid his hand on Mr. Healy’s arm. “Pat,” he said, “this fellow who is approaching to talk to you is Jimmy’s worst enemy. He has just played a dirty trick on him. Don’t say a word to him.”
“Played a dirty trick on Jimmy, did he? Very well. He gets no news from me.”
A moment later Rand stepped up and began to question the mine foreman. “I have nothing to say. See the superintendent,” snapped Mr. Healy. And turning on his heel, he strode away, with Johnnie and Jimmy at his heels.
But as Jimmy walked away, he said: “Rand, dirty tricks don’t pay. You thought you had put over a clever one when you got me down at Easton to-day, but your game failed. This is what came of it. You lose out yourself.” And Jimmy hurried after Mr. Healy and Johnnie, while Rand stood and cursed him. “I’ll get you yet,” Jimmy heard him say. But Jimmy wasn’t caring about Rand’s threats. He held all the aces in the pack himself.
CHAPTER XII
Jimmy Lands a Job for Johnnie
When Jimmy had finished writing his story, after a fast trip back to his office, where he arrived well ahead of his deadline, he reported to the managing editor.
“Well, I see you got here in time anyway, Jimmy,” smiled that official. “Your photographs are fine, but they are a little small. Why didn’t you use your regular news camera?”
“I didn’t take the pictures, Mr. Johnson. Johnnie Lee took them. He had to use his own camera because I was miles away, at Easton. He got the story, too, and he got the details in fine shape. If it hadn’t been for Johnnie, I guess I’d still be at the mine.”
“This sounds interesting. How did your young friend get into the affair, anyway? Tell me about it.”
“There isn’t much to tell, Mr. Johnson. When I landed at Easton, and didn’t see Handley anywhere, I suspected I might have to wait some time for him, so I called Johnnie up at his home. By good luck he was right at hand. He lives within two miles of the wrecked mine. I asked him to see what he could do for me. He skipped right over in his car, got the photographs, rounded up the only man who escaped from the mine on his own feet, and had the whole story in hand when I reached there. He introduced me to this survivor, who is a foreman in the mine, and so was able to give us such a comprehensive description of the place. Then Johnnie took us both back to the mine, so I could see the place and the crowds for myself. The foreman got me an interview with the mine superintendent. And by the way, the superintendent had just refused to talk to Rand.”
“Rand, eh? So he’s working on this story.” The managing editor’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. He looked at Jimmy intently. “You don’t suppose, Jimmy, that Rand——”
“Yes, sir, Idosuppose so,” interrupted Jimmy. “I’d be willing to bet my last nickel that it was Rand who tricked me into landing at Easton. You know the paper he works for has a plane at the same field where we keep ours. I didn’t see Rand at the field before I took off, but I believe he was there. And I believe that in some way he got wind of the fact that you had ordered me to Shenandoah. I have no proof of that, and I don’t see how I can get proof. He might easily have picked up the fact from employees about the field. My mechanic knew that you wanted me to make the trip. He told me so the instant I got in from my flight out to sea. He might have mentioned the matter to other people about the field. Of course everybody soon knew about the disaster, and it was a safe bet that I would have to fly to the scene. Rand would know that.”
“Yes, or some one may have tapped our wire. Or some one may be paying mechanics at the field to keep tabs on you. I know of at least one newspaper in this town that wouldn’t be above such work. You just watch yourself, Jimmy. Keep your eyes and ears open and see if you can’t find out more about this matter. Everything turned out well this time, but you won’t always have a Johnnie Lee on the spot to pull you out of a hole.”
“That’s what he did, Mr. Johnson. Johnnie pulled me out of a great big hole. I might have rounded up the story after I got there, but I could not possibly have gotten the pictures also. It grew dark soon after I reached the mine. Johnnie made a fine job of it. I believe you will say so, too, when you read his story.”
Just then a copy boy thrust some proofs into Mr. Johnson’s hands.
“Here it is,” said the managing editor. “Now we’ll see what your story is like.”
“It’s really Johnnie’s story, Mr. Johnson,” protested Jimmy. “Please read it and see if you don’t think Johnnie has shown enough ability now to start in as a cub.”
Mr. Johnson smiled. “What a fine world it would be, Jimmy,” he said, “if we all had such loyal friends as Johnnie Lee has in you.”
Then he began to read, and the expression on his face showed well enough that he was interested. When he had finished, he laid down the proofs. “It’s a good story, Jimmy,” he said. “Then does Johnnie get his job?” demanded Jimmy.
“You are nothing if not an ardent partisan, Jimmy. I hadn’t any idea of employing Johnnie; but he has been so useful to us that if he wants to come on here and start in as a cub, at the lowest salary we pay cubs, we’ll give him a chance. I somehow have a feeling that he has good stuff in him.”
“Indeed he has, Mr. Johnson. You’ll never be sorry you hired him. When do you want him to report for work?”
“There’s no hurry, Jimmy. I’ll drop him a line in a few days. I want him to understand exactly the terms on which he comes and the amount of pay he will receive while he is learning his job.”
“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Johnson. I’ll do all I can to help him make good.” And Jimmy walked out of the managing editor’s office as happy as a lark. Altogether, it had been a mighty good day for Jimmy.
“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” he thought. “If Rand hadn’t pulled me down at Easton, Johnnie would never have gotten this job. It just seems to me as though most of the things that look like difficulties when they occur are really opportunities. It’s been that way with me more than once. The main thing is to keep a stiff upper lip, use your head, and just keep on going. I’ll try to remember that the next time I get in a pinch.”
Jimmy went back to his ship, to see that she was put in shape for instant use again. He was very happy. Not only had he made good again for himself, but he had helped his old friend. He had secured for him the opening that Johnnie so much desired. He wanted to write to Johnnie and tell him about the situation, but he decided not to do it. “Mr. Johnson evidently prefers to write to him himself,” thought Jimmy. “I don’t want to do anything that could possibly gum things up.” So he restrained himself.
It wasn’t long, however, before Jimmy had abundant opportunity to tell Johnnie all about the matter. A new and important airport was to be opened in central Pennsylvania. Celebrated fliers by the dozens were to be on hand. An attractive program of races and flying stunts had been arranged, and the affair had been given great publicity. Mr. Johnson decided to send a man to cover the story. Quite naturally, he selected Jimmy.