Front matter (continued 2)

In the smoke-green uniform Jane was indeed an attractive figure. The coat was cut smartly and there were fashionable box pleats in the skirt. The beret, set at a jaunty angle, had only one ornament, a pair of silver wings. Shoes and hose to match the suit completed the ensemble.

Jane took a final glance in the mirror. What she saw there was pleasing and she ran downstairs, the others following her closely.

“I’m off on my first trip,” she called to Mrs. Murphy, who was reading in the front room. “I’ll be in Chicago tomorrow morning.”

“A safe trip, bless you,” called Mrs. Murphy, who had taken an exceedingly motherly interest in the girls.

“Will you bring us back if we go to the field?” Alice asked the driver of the airport car.

“Sorry, Miss, but I’m through in fifteen minutes. This is my last trip to town.”

“Just our luck,” grumbled Alice. “You’ll have to start off on your first trip without an audience,” she told Jane.

“I’d like to have you there, but maybe I won’t be quite as nervous if I am alone,” admitted Jane. She entered the cab and the driver closed the door.

Sue stuck her head through the lower window.

“When will you be back?” she asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Not until day after tomorrow at the earliest.”

The cab lurched ahead and with the goodbyes of her friends ringing in her ears Jane started for the field and her first assignment.

Chapter Eleven

An Unexpected Delay

The airport was ablaze with light when the car pulled up at the administration building, which meant that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness’ special plane was about to land.

Jane thanked the driver and hastened into the operations office on the first floor. A teletype was clicking out the latest weather reports and the radio operator was busy giving the pilot of the special plane final information on the wind and visibility at Cheyenne.

Miss Comstock, who had been talking to the night chief of operations, turned to Jane.

“I was afraid we weren’t going to locate you,” the chief stewardess said, visibly relieved at Jane’s arrival. “This is an important trip and I knew I could count on you to make a good impression.”

The night operations chief joined them.

“This special is going through ahead of everything,” he told Jane, “and we can’t have it delayed if Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gets air sick and they have to slow the schedule or set the ship down at some field to wait until she feels better. In other words, it’s up to you to see that she is so comfortable from now on and so busy she won’t have time to think about complaining.”

“Is she ill now?”

“Salt Lake said she looked like a ghost and Rock Springs just cussed when I asked him how she looked. One thing, we’re going to get that special off this field and from then on it’s up to you to see that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness holds together until we land in Chicago.”

Charlie Fischer strolled in and glanced at the weather report coming in on the teletype.

“Plenty of visibility and a good tail wind. I’m going to take that three-engined demon up where there’s plenty of room and ride it for all it’s worth. You can put me down for about 160 miles an hour from here to Omaha,” he told the night operations chief.

“If you can do that, you’ll whittle better than half an hour off the schedule we’ve worked out,” said the night chief.

Charlie turned to Jane.

“You going along?” he asked.

“It’s my first regular trip.”

“Means extra ballast,” grumbled Charlie.

“Extra ballast nothing,” retorted the night chief. “Our billion-dollar passenger is air sick and unless we put a stewardess aboard and get Mrs. Van Verity Vanness feeling better pronto, this flight will be a washout and about $10,000 will fly out of this airway’s sock and you can imagine how the general manager would like that.”

“You mean we’re getting $10,000 for this trip across the country?” asked Charlie incredulously.

“She paid before she started the trip in ’Frisco, but if we don’t land her in New York on time she’ll stop payment on the check. So when you’re in the air tonight just bend an ear to whatever this little lady has to say, for if you do some rough flying and the G. M. hears about it, one Charlie Fischer will have a lot of explaining to do.”

“The special’s coming in right now,” called the radio operator. They turned to the full-length windows which looked out on the field. The wing lights of the plane were swooping down and a moment later the big ship rolled down the runway and nosed toward the hangar.

“I’ve got a complete kit ready,” Miss Comstock told Jane. “There’s plenty of salad and hot coffee, fresh fruit, and I put in an extra thermos bottle of bouillon. I imagine your passenger is nervous and scared as much as anything. Make her comfortable and talk to her. Remember that the reputation of the stewardess service may depend on your work tonight.”

Almost before the tri-motor had stopped rolling the ground crew, enlarged to speed the refueling of the special, was swarming over the plane. Only five minutes had been allowed for the Cheyenne stop and it meant fast work on the part of every man.

Jane and Miss Comstock hastened toward the cabin. As they reached it the co-pilot threw open the door.

“For heaven’s sake, hurry,” he begged. “I’m afraid this woman is going to faint.”

Jane got a glimpse of the white, drawn face of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she knew that she was going to be in for some busy minutes. The landing stage was wheeled up to the plane and Jane hurried into the cabin. The one passenger aboard the special was clinging to the co-pilot and Jane gently disengaged her arms and placed them about her own shoulders.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sobbing softly. “I’ll never be able to go on. I’m too ill.”

Jane didn’t argue with her, but with the aid of Miss Comstock, helped the passenger out of the plane and into the cool, sweet night air. It was then that she got her first good look at the woman she was to care for on the trip to Chicago.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was between sixty-five and seventy. The cheeks were still full and bore few wrinkles, but the hands gave away the fact that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was well past middle age.

“I can’t walk. Don’t make me,” she begged.

“We’ll only take a few steps,” said Jane, her own strong arms supporting the older woman. “Breath deeply and enjoy the air. Don’t think about flying.”

“But I’ve got to get to New York.” There was a sob in the older woman’s voice, and she shuddered as she looked at the hulking tri-motor. Even a thought of returning to the plane struck terror into her heart.

Jane turned to Miss Comstock and whispered a suggestion.

“Don’t let them start the motors until I give the signal,” she said. “It may take quite a while to get her calm, but once she’s back in the plane I think I’ll be able to manage.”

Miss Comstock nodded and hurried away while Jane guided her elderly passenger toward the stewardess’ quarters. There, well away from the rush and confusion of the hangar, she made her comfortable while she put a pot of tea on the electric grill in the commissary. Within five minutes Jane had tea and wafers ready on a silver tray. She talked gaily about everything except flying and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness began to show a new interest in living. The tea was delicious and the wafers were appetizing. The wealthy passenger of the special drank two cups of tea and ate five of the wafers.

Jane heard a tap on the window and looked up to see Charlie Fischer making horrible faces at her and pointing toward his watch. The tri-motor was at least seven minutes late now. Jane must do something at once.

She picked up the tea tray and started for the commissary.

“If you could go with me, I might attempt to continue the journey,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “I can’t bear the thought of going on alone.”

“But I am going with you,” replied Jane. “Didn’t they tell you?”

“No. Those pilots only flew faster and faster and I got sicker and sicker.”

“We’ll let them fly as fast as they want to,” smiled Jane, “just as long as they have smooth weather. There’s a delicious lunch, late papers and some magazines aboard the plane now. We’ll return to the hangar, make ourselves comfortable in the plane, and tell them to go ahead. We’ll be almost ten minutes late leaving here.”

“I’ll go on,” agreed the woman of millions, “but only because you are going with me.”

Without showing too much haste, Jane shepherded her passenger into the tri-motor. Charlie Fischer, still looking at his watch, gave her a black look as he climbed into the cockpit.

Jane made Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable in chair No. 6, and then stepped back to the door where Miss Comstock was peering in. “Everything all right?” asked the chief stewardess.

“She’s perfectly calm now,” replied Jane. “I’m sure we’ll make Chicago all right.”

“The general manager is fairly burning up the radio trying to find out about the delay here.”

“You can tell him that it took us the extra time to persuade Mrs. Van Verity Vanness to continue the trip,” said Jane.

“Good-bye and good luck,” said Miss Comstock as she closed the door. Jane made sure that the door was latched securely, stowed the hamper of food away in the pantry, and then hastened up to take a seat beside her passenger.

The motors roared and the plane quivered to the pulse of their power. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness paled as the plane rolled forward, but Jane took the hands of the elderly woman and held them in her own. Almost before they knew it the plane was in the air, streaking away into the east in the race to make up the lost time.

Chapter Twelve

Alarming News

The lights of Cheyenne faded rapidly as Charlie Fischer gunned the big transport hard. Jane, watching the air speed indicator, saw it climb from 110 to 130. It hovered there for several minutes and then started climbing again. In less than fifteen minutes they were up 7,000 feet and with a good tail wind boomed along at better than 150 miles an hour.

Jane looked at her elderly companion. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had her eyes closed tightly and Jane spoke to her reassuringly.

“It’s a long ride to Chicago,” she said. “Suppose we look through some magazines. Then we’ll have a cup of bouillon and sandwiches just before midnight and after that I’ll tuck you in for the night.”

“Tuck me in for the night?” asked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “Why, I’ll never be able to sleep.”

“I think you will. You can unfasten your safety belt now and I’ll see what I can find in the way of magazines.”

Jane returned a minute later with half a dozen copies of the latest magazines. She adjusted the reading light for her companion and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, seeing Jane so calm and casual, forced herself to overcome the fear of flying which had sickened her. She selected a magazine from the armful Jane offered and settled herself comfortably in her seat.

“I’m really commencing to enjoy it,” she smiled, “but there’s a bit of a draft around my feet.”

Jane hurried back to the compartment where a supply of warm, woolly blankets were kept. Selecting a pretty grey and pink one she wrapped it around the elderly woman’s legs. With Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable and apparently satisfied for some time, Jane opened the Cheyenne paper.

She halfway expected to find a front page story on the dash across country of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness in a special plane for almost any activity of this multi-millionaire widow was worth a half column of space. Instead, Jane read the alarming news that a mail plane had been robbed early that morning by aerial bandits. The ship, a Bertold single engined plane, had been shot down in southeastern Iowa on the Kansas City to Chicago run and more than a hundred thousand in currency taken from the registered mail pouch which it carried. The pilot had been seriously wounded by the two bandits, who had used a machine gun to force the mail ship down.

Jane resolved right then and there to keep all of the papers away from Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. If aerial bandits were operating, it was entirely within the realm of possibility for them to attack a special chartered by a woman as wealthy as her companion.

The tri-motor hurled through the night, the speed increasing as Charlie Fischer pushed it up another thousand feet to benefit by an even stronger tail wind at that altitude. They roared along at between 165 and 170 miles an hour, nearly 50 miles above the usual cruising speed of a plane of that type.

Below them winked the revolving beacons which lighted the transcontinental airway at night. Occasionally they sighted the dim gleams from some prairie town.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness let the magazine drop into her lap as she closed her eyes, now thoroughly relaxed and without fear of anything happening to the plane. It was 11:30 and Jane leaned over and spoke to her companion.

“I’ll bring the bouillon and sandwiches right away. Then you can go to sleep.”

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness nodded contentedly and Jane went back to her pantry.

The bouillon, golden brown, smelled delicious as it gurgled out of the thermos jug and the sandwiches were almost paper thin with a tasty filling of olives and salad dressing.

Jane put the lunch on a silver tray and carried it into the cabin where she placed it on a small portable table which she had put between the seats.

“Several hours ago I thought I’d never be able to eat again,” smiled the woman of millions, “but this actually appeals to me.”

Jane agreed, for Miss Comstock had personally prepared the lunch and it should be delicious. The bouillon was expertly flavored and the sandwiches were the kind that made even the daintiest eaters hunger for more.

When the last sandwich had disappeared and the second cup of bouillon was only a memory, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness leaned back in her chair and smiled happily.

“You’re a wonder,” she told Jane. “I think I’ll ask the company to send you clear through to New York with me.”

“Our division only goes to Chicago,” replied Jane, “but I’d be delighted to go on if the general manager approves.”

“I think he’ll approve if I ask it. After all, I’m paying almost enough for this trip to buy one of their planes.”

Jane removed the luncheon dishes, brought another blanket, adjusted the seat at a reclining angle and tucked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness away for the night.

“We’ll land at North Platte, Omaha, and Iowa City,” she said, “but there’ll be no need for you to disturb yourself. I’ll inquire for messages at each stop and waken you if there is any news.”

In less than five minutes Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sleeping soundly and Jane went back to her pantry to stow away the dishes she had used for their midnight lunch.

The flasher which signaled that the chief pilot wanted to talk to her came on and Jane walked ahead, careful not to disturb her passenger. The stewardess made her way past the baggage compartment and stuck her head in the pilots’ cockpit.

Charlie Fischer looked down at her.

“How’s our famous passenger?” he asked.

“Sound asleep,” replied Jane, “and she’ll stay that way until morning if you’ll use a little care in landing and taking off.”

“I’ll drop this crate down like we were carrying eggs,” promised Charlie, “but don’t you let her out of the plane. Next time we may never be able to get her back on board.”

Jane returned to the cabin where the only light was the one over her seat at the rear. Her passenger was sleeping soundly and Jane sat down and relaxed.

The last two hours, from the time she had received the call to rush to the field, had been filled with a nervous tension. Handling Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had required real tact and patience and Jane had been so busy she hadn’t had time to remember that this was her first trip as stewardess. Up until now she had rather looked upon herself as a trained nurse called in to care for a nervous, irritable woman.

At better than 8,000 feet the air was chilly even in the summer and Jane got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn’t dare sleep for fear Mrs. Van Verity Vanness would waken and call her.

Jane had hardly settled down to rest when the lights of North Platte appeared far ahead and the throbbing of the motors eased off. Charlie Fischer set the plane down without a bounce and they rolled into the hangar.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness roused slightly and Jane told her they were in North Platte. The stop there took just a little better than four minutes and Jane learned that there were no messages for her passenger. Then they were booming east again with the next stop at Omaha.

Jane settled down in her chair, wondering if her passenger had been serious when she mentioned taking her on to New York. What a lark that would be and how the other girls would talk. Jane could just imagine Mattie Clark turning almost green with envy.

The pilot found the favoring wind again and they sped from North Platte to Omaha in record time for the big tri-motor. At the Omaha field reporters were waiting for the plane and Jane was forced to go to the waiting room and answer their questions, for Mrs. Van Verity Vanness refused to see them,

For five minutes she fended off the questions of the newspapermen, answering those she was free to.

“Better look out for the aerial bandits,” they warned her. “Think of the ransom they could demand if they captured your passenger?”

“Haven’t they been captured?” asked Jane.

“No. They vanished after bringing down the mail plane in southeastern Iowa. The last report said that they had been heading west. Of course, that was early yesterday. They’ve landed at some out of the way field.”

Jane thanked the reporter and turned back to the tri-motor, glad to get away from her questioners lest she show them how much she was disturbed. With the newspapers now broadcasting the cross-country dash of the wealthy Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, Jane knew that the special was not safe with the aerial bandits still at large.

Chapter Thirteen

The Black Plane

Just before the tri-motor wheeled off the ramp at Omaha, the radio operator at the field hurried up with a message. It was from New York, informing Mrs. Van Verity Vanness that her son was slightly improved and was looking forward to her arrival at his bedside.

The little woman of the many millions looked at Jane through tear-dimmed eyes.

“He’s my only son,” she said. “He means so very much to me.”

Jane nodded. She could understand, for in her years of training at Good Samaritan she had seen mother love put to many a severe and heart-breaking test and she knew how deep in a human soul it penetrated.

Reassured that her son was not losing ground, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness dozed again as the plane raced over western Iowa.

Jane went ahead to the pilots’ cockpit and leaned close to Charlie Fischer.

“The airplane bandits are still at large,” she told him.

“I know it,” he said. “We got a special warning at Omaha. A strange ship was sighted over the Des Moines field half an hour ago and it answered the description of the bandit craft. Two army planes that were making an overnight stop at Fort Des Moines have gone up to see if they can trace it.”

“Keep a close watch. I’ve got nearly a billion-dollar piece of humanity in the cabin.”

“Orders are to land if we run into trouble.”

“But that would mean the capture and holding of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness for ransom,” protested Jane.

“That’s better than having us all shot down,” snapped Charlie. “You just mind things in the cabin and I’ll run this end of the ship.”

“Well,” said Jane with finality. “If I were a pilot and a bandit plane attacked me, I’d give them a real race before I landed.”

Charlie started to reply but the co-pilot grabbed his arm and pointed over to the right. The lights of a plane, coming rapidly toward them, were plainly visible.

Charlie looked at them for a second and then snapped off the wing lights of his own plane. “Get back into the cabin and turn off the lights there,” he roared at Jane. “Here comes trouble.”

“How do you know?” asked Jane.

“There’s no other ship but our own on this division tonight and those lights coming toward us aren’t the riding lights on a night hawk.”

Jane departed on the run, and snapped off the light in the cabin. It would be dawn in another half hour, but for the coming thirty minutes the tri-motor, running without lights, had a chance of escaping the other plane.

The motors labored under a full charge of gas as the big ship rocketed along at 170 miles an hour. Once or twice the needle on the speed dial mounted above the 170 mark, but Charlie couldn’t hold it there.

Jane watched the lights of the other plane. They didn’t appear to be any nearer. Perhaps the bandits, after spotting their quarry, would be content to wait until dawn and then make a quick thrust.

The stewardess wondered if the pursuing plane was radio equipped for even as she left the pilots’ cockpit, the co-pilot had been pouring out a warning of their danger.

It was nerve-racking business as Charlie Fischer piloted the tri-motor with all of the skill of his big hands. In and out of clouds they dodged, now at 8,000 feet, and again at 6,000, but always the relentless pursuit was with them. The sky lightened and Jane knew that the crisis was near. She wanted to go ahead and talk with Charlie and the co-pilot, but she didn’t dare leave her passenger.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness yawned and threw off the blanket which had shielded her shoulders. She sat up and looked out into the gray light. Jane answered her summons.

“We’re having company,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, pointing toward the other ship, a black biplane, which had drawn near.

Jane didn’t dare tell her the truth about the other plane.

“Just some pilot up early,” she said lightly, but her heart was far from feeling that way.

Their own plane dove sharply, and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gasped and clutched the arms of her seat.

“The morning air is a bit rough at times,” explained Jane reassuringly, but she knew all of the time that the quick dive had been a maneuver of Charlie’s to give them more time. She wondered about the army planes which had taken off from Des Moines. If their radio was working, they should arrive soon.

“The pilot of that plane’s acting queerly,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “He seems to be waving at us.”

The light was better and Jane looked at the black biplane. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was right. They were being waved down and Jane’s heart went sick as she saw the snout of a machine gun sticking over the nose of the other craft. If Charlie refused to comply with the order, it was plain they would be the target for machine-gun bullets.

Jane looked at the altimeter with sinking heart. They were down to 7,000 feet and dropping lower steadily. She scanned the country below for some sign of a city. There were plenty of small towns within range, but no large ones where an adequate police force could be assembled to aid them.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness did not appear alarmed. Charlie stalled at 5,000 feet and Jane saw the pilot of the other plane wave at them angrily.

It was agonizing, for Jane knew that once they were on the ground there would be no chance of escape. Her passenger would be whisked away in the black plane, to be held for a fabulous ransom and a desperately ill man in New York would be without the sympathy of his mother at his bedside to help him through his illness.

They were down to 3,000 feet and Charlie Fischer was hunting a good place to set down when death roared down out of the sky.

Two army planes, their machine guns spitting flame, hurled themselves at the black biplane.

Motors roaring wide open, pilots tense at the triggers, the avenging army craft arrived just as Charlie nosed the tri-motor down for a landing.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness watched the scene with startled eyes and Jane’s heart pounded doubly fast.

The bandit plane was trapped between the army ships. Bullets ripped through the wings of the black craft as the pilot tried desperately to maneuver into position where the gunner in his forward cockpit could get his weapon into action.

“What does it mean?” gasped Jane’s passenger.

“It’s a bandit plane that shot down a mail ship early yesterday in southeastern Iowa,” explained the stewardess.

“But why was it following us? This plane had no mail.”

“It had you, which was vastly more important.”

“Ransom?”

Jane nodded.

“How long have you known we were in danger?”

“Ever since we caught sight of the black plane. We had a description of it at Omaha and were warned by radio to be on the lookout.”

“But you didn’t say a word to me.”

“There was no need to alarm you.”

The army planes were closing in on their quarry, darting in and out as the pilots directed blasts of fire at the bandit craft. The aerial desperadoes knew that they could hope for no quarter and they made one final attempt to escape, heading their plane in a mad dive toward one of the army ships.

But the dive laid them open to the fire of the second army flyer, and he plunged down from above, his machine gun spitting flame. Bullets traced through the wing of the black biplane, shattering the propeller. Then the left wing of the biplane tore loose and the ship fluttered aimlessly for a moment before nosing down for the final plunge.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness cried out in horror and Jane placed her hands over the older woman’s eyes. Finally the passenger turned from the window and looked at Jane.

“You’re a brave, sweet girl,” she said. “Now I think I’ll rest again.”

Neither one mentioned the aerial duel they had witnessed as the special roared on to the pace of its quickened motors.

Jane prepared breakfast and while her passenger sipped the hot chocolate, the stewardess went up to the pilots’ cockpit.

“Some dog fight,” said Charlie Fischer. “Those army boys showed up just in time.”

“I suppose I should say it was terrible,” said Jane, “but knowing what those bandits would have done to my passenger, I feel they got just what was coming to them.”

“They had time to repent all of their sins on the way down,” admitted Charlie. “Say, we’re skipping Des Moines. Got plenty of fuel to take us to Iowa City.”

When they landed in the eastern Iowa city, another message from New York reassured Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she read most of the way into Chicago.

When they rolled up to the ramp of the Chicago field, Jane suggested that her passenger step out and walk a bit.

“You’ll feel much better,” she assured her.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness agreed and Jane assisted her out of the plane. Reporters were clamoring at the gate, but a cordon of police kept them from the field.

Charlie Fischer grinned as he went by.

“I’m going over and be a hero,” he chuckled, nodding toward the cameramen and reporters, who were hungry for the story of the escape from the bandits.

The short, stocky figure of Hubert Speidel, personnel director of Federated Airways, emerged from the crowd and came toward them. He beckoned to Jane and she left her passenger for a moment.

“Everything all right?” asked the personnel chief anxiously.

“She seems to be enjoying the trip now,” replied Jane, “but she wants a stewardess to continue with her.”

Just then Mrs. Van Verity Vanness took matters into her own hands.

“I presume you are a company official,” she said, addressing the director. He nodded.

“Please inform your general manager that I insist upon this young woman accompanying me to New York. She has done everything possible to make me comfortable and without her assistance I would have been unable to continue from Cheyenne.”

“But Miss Cameron’s division ends here,” protested the personnel chief. “We’ll have to put another stewardess aboard here.”

“I don’t care a snap about divisions,” said the woman of millions. “I want this stewardess. Remember, there are other lines east of Chicago.”

The personnel director promised to do what he could and hastened away. He was back in less than five minutes.

“It’s a little irregular,” he said, “but Miss Cameron can go through to New York with with you.”

Fresh supplies were brought out and placed in the pantry, Jane checking each item, for they would have lunch at noon aboard the plane and possibly a light supper just before they reached New York.

A new crew of flyers took charge and exactly fifteen minutes after landing, the special roared away, with an entire nation watching its progress, for newspaper presses were spewing out extras by the thousands, telling the story of the attempt to abduct Jane’s passenger.

Chapter Fourteen

Page One News

The day was clear and warm, a beautiful June-time, and the special was soon speeding over the flat country of northern Indiana. There was only one stop scheduled between Chicago and New York, that at Cleveland, where the tanks would be filled with fuel.

Jane prepared an appetizing lunch and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness ate it with evident relish as they skirted the south shore of Lake Erie. That over, she insisted that Jane explain how she had happened to join the air line.

The elderly woman was a good listener and Jane told in detail of her last day at Good Samaritan and how Miss Hardy had recommended her for the position with the Federated Airways.

“I’d never heard of stewardesses on the planes until you came aboard at Cheyenne,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “Have you been flying long?”

Jane smiled for her passenger was going to be in for a surprise.

“This is my first regular trip,” she confessed. “All of the girls go into service tomorrow.”

“Then I predict a fine future for you. Why, I thought you were a veteran of hundreds of miles of flying.”

It was a sincere compliment and Jane glowed inwardly. She had been so anxious to make a good impression on her first flight.

At Cleveland another message from New York reassured Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and again she was shielded from reporters. No one was allowed out on the ramp, but cameras clicked as Jane stepped out of the cabin for a breath of air. Then they were racing eastward again, with the next stop the Newark airport.

They flew high over the rugged Alleghenies and then dropped down over Jersey toward the metropolis. The end of the long flight was near and Jane felt greatly relieved.

Mrs. Van Verity Vanness summoned her as they swung over the Newark airport.

“Wouldn’t you like to join me, traveling as my nurse and companion?” she asked.

It was a question that left Jane speechless. She had never considered such a possibility.

“As soon as my son is well, I plan to leave on a round-the-world trip. We would be gone a year.”

It was a tempting offer, almost irresistible, but the zest of flying was deep in Jane and she shook her head.

“I don’t believe I would be happy leaving the air line now,” she said. “There seems to be a real future for girls in aviation and I want to make the most of my opportunity.”

The other woman sighed. “I was afraid that would be your answer and you are probably right. But I’ve grown dreadfully fond of you. If there is anything I can do at any time, don’t hesitate to call on me.”

“Thank you,” said Jane.

The plane rolled to a stop in the Newark hangar of the Federated line and a huge limousine with two motorcycle officers flanking it, drew up to the cabin door.

“Goodbye, my dear,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness as she stepped into the limousine to be whirled away toward New York to the tune of screaming sirens.

Jane was a little breathless. It had been such an exciting trip all the way from Cheyenne. Now she wondered just when she would start back. An official hurried toward her.

“Reporters are almost tearing the waiting room to pieces,” he said. “They couldn’t see Mrs. Van Verity Vanness but they insist on talking with you. You’d better tell them what happened this morning.”

“But I don’t know what to say,” protested Jane.

“Just answer their questions.”

In the waiting room a dozen men of assorted ages, and three women, awaited Jane. The moment she entered they started firing questions at her.

“How had Mrs. Van Verity Vanness acted when the bandit plane swooped down on them? How had Jane felt? What had she served her passenger at mealtime? Had Mrs. Van Verity Vanness commented on the financial situation?”

It was a steady barrage and Jane’s head whirled as she tried to answer them all. Finally she threw up her hands and sank down in a chair in despair.

“Can’t you see I’m all tired out?” she cried. “Please let me alone.”

She buried her head in her arms and her body shook with the sobs of nervous exhaustion for the strain of the long flight and caring for the wealthy passenger had been more than Jane had realized.

“She’s a plucky kid,” she heard one reporter say as the newspaper people trooped out of the room.

In a few minutes Jane felt more composed and she went into the operations office.

“What time do I start west?” she asked the chief dispatcher.

“All of the space is taken until the 8:18 west in the morning. You’d better take a cab to a hotel and get some sleep.”

Then Jane remembered that she was without funds. It was their first pay day in Cheyenne, but she was hundreds of miles from there.

“I guess I’ll just wait here until the plane goes,” she said.

The dispatcher was busy and failed to notice Jane’s fatigue or he might have guessed that she was in an embarrassing situation. Jane washed her face and hands and walked outside to watch the sun go down behind the Jersey hills.

She was hungry, but the tri-motor she had come in on had been trundled away to a distant hangar and there was little chance that she could find it and rummage through the pantry for anything to eat.

Jane skimmed through the magazines in the waiting room and selected one on aviation. She had hardly settled herself when a young woman burst into the room.

“Where’s Jane Cameron?” demanded the newcomer.

“I’m Jane Cameron,” replied the stewardess.

“What a break! I’m Ruthe Harrigan, special writer for the New York Globe. Late as usual in getting my assignment. Afraid I had missed you. How about your story? Sold it to anyone yet?”

“Why, no,” stammered the surprised Jane. “I talked to a number of reporters but they didn’t say anything about paying me.”

“They wouldn’t,” snorted the newcomer. “Let’s hop outside and get a bite to eat. Then we’ll make a deal for your first-person story of the battle with the bandits.”

Ruthe Harrigan led Jane to a comfortable restaurant only a block from the hangar and after sizzling steaks had been served, plied Jane with questions.

“I’m after a first-person story of what happened on your trip in,” she explained. “We’ll pay you well for permission to use your name above the story.”

“But what would Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and company officials say?”

“I’ll call the Federated publicity office,” said the energetic Ruthe. Jane talked to the New York publicity head of Federated, and he approved of the story. Another call to Mrs. Van Verity Vanness brought her consent.

“Make them pay a good price,” she advised Jane.

Dinner over, they hastened back to the Federated hangar where the reporter borrowed a typewriter. “Now tell me everything that happened and how you felt.”

“But we haven’t agreed on a price,” said Jane.

“How about $50?”

“That doesn’t seem enough. Won’t this be front page news?”

“I should say it will. Every other New York paper will probably turn green with envy.”

“Then $50 isn’t enough.”

“I might be able to get $100,” urged the reporter.

“Don’t take less than $500,” advised the night dispatcher. “If the Globe won’t pay it, call some of the other papers. They will.”

In desperation, Ruthe Harrigan called her editor and before Jane gave her a line of copy, a check for $500 was in the hands of the stewardess.

It was more money than Jane had ever had before and she fingered the check carefully. Now she could go to a hotel, have the finest room, enjoy the choicest food, and still have what to her was wealth.

For two hours Ruthe Harrigan plied her with questions while she beat a heavy tattoo on the typewriter. When she was through she had nine pages of copy to send to her office.

“It’s a good story,” smiled the reporter, “even if you did make us pay through the nose for it.”

Jane cashed her check at the field and had it converted into travelers’ checks of small denominations. Then she took a taxi to a recommended hotel and by 11 o’clock was sound asleep, while across the river in New York the presses of the Globe were rolling out her own story of the encounter with the aerial bandits.

Chapter Fifteen

“Hello Heroine”

Jane was up at seven the next morning and a few minutes later, went down to breakfast. In the lobby she purchased copies of all of the morning papers and went into the grill for breakfast.

An excellent picture of herself stared up from the front page of the Globe and underneath the picture was a two column headline informing Globe readers that they were about to read Jane Cameron’s own story of the battle with the bandits.

Jane flushed and looked up to make sure no one had recognized her. But there were only a few at breakfast at that hour and she read the story from opening paragraph to the final dash. Jane had to admit that Ruthe Harrigan had done an excellent job of writing. The story was thrilling, from start to finish.

After breakfast Jane bought half a dozen copies of the Globe, paid her hotel bill, and took a taxi to the field. A pass was ready for her and the 8:18 was on the line, warming up for the trip west.

A messenger approached Jane with a message and she signed for it. Inside was a brief note from Mrs. Van Verity Vanness expressing her appreciation and with it a check, “a little token of my gratitude,” wrote Jane’s passenger. The stewardess’ eyes blinked as she looked at the check. It was for one thousand dollars!

Jane’s knees felt weak and she grasped a nearby handrail for support. A thousand dollars! Why, it didn’t seem possible. But it was possible, for a thousand dollars was only pin money to the millions which Mrs. Van Verity Vanness controlled.

Jane felt almost uncomfortably rich. There had been $500 for selling the story and now the thousand dollar check. She had spent less than $10 for her room, breakfast, taxi fare and the papers. Why she would have at the very least $1,490 when she returned to Cheyenne. It seemed unbelievable but she had the checks.

The day chief of operations at Newark came up.

“There’s a sound crew from a news reel outside. They want you to pose and say a few words. It’s good publicity for the line.”

Jane was glad that it was almost time for the plane to depart, for facing a movie camera was a real ordeal. Her mouth went dry and chills ran along her back as the sound man held the microphone close. Somehow she managed to say a few words, and then she hurried back to the 8:18. Two minutes later the big tri-motor was roaring west, and late that night Jane would be back at Cheyenne.

There was a strong headwind and they seldom got above a hundred miles an hour, with the result that they were more than an hour late when they reached Chicago.

Jane changed planes there and had a lunch at the field. Then the tri-motor sped westward again. There was a light passenger list, only nine aboard the fourteen-passenger craft, and none of them recognized Jane, for which she was grateful.

Night came as they roared over the rich farm lands of Iowa and from Omaha west, Jane dozed, lulled by the rhythmic beating of the three great engines.

The wind increased in force as they neared the Rockies, and the speed was well under a hundred an hour. As a result, it was nearly three o’clock when the lights of Cheyenne showed far ahead, under the left wing. Jane roused herself and straightened her uniform. She wondered if the girls would be at the field.

The big plane glided noiselessly out of the night into the glare of the floodlights. When it rolled into the hangar Jane peered anxiously toward the waiting room. Sure enough, Sue, Grace and Alice were there, all of them fairly dancing in their anxiety to greet her.

The young stewardess was first out of the tri-motor, and she ran to meet her friends.

“Hello heroine,” said Sue, as she threw her arms around Jane in an affectionate embrace.

“Welcome home,” added Alice, while Grace added, “let’s see what the New York papers said about you.”

Miss Comstock, who had been in the background, came up and greeted Jane warmly.

“You’ve done a wonderful piece of work for the stewardess service,” she said. “Mrs. Van Verity Vanness sent the general manager a long telegram today, highly recommending the service and especially complimenting you. I’m sure that as a result of your outstanding work, we’re all assured of jobs for a long time to come.”

“But I didn’t do anything unusual,” protested Jane. “I simply did my job as I had been trained to do it, in the hospital and here at the field. It was nothing more than what will soon be routine to every one of us.”

“Not every one of us will have bandits attack our plane the first time we’re out, nor will we be carrying a woman who can sign her name to a check for a million dollars and know that she can cash it,” put in Grace.

Jane looked at her wrist watch. It was just three o’clock.

“We’d better hurry home if we plan to get any sleep tonight,” she said.

“You can go home,” said Grace, “but Alice and I are ordered out on the eastbound mail. It’s coming through in two sections from the coast this morning, and will be here in another fifteen minutes.”

“Then I’ll stay and see you off,” said Jane. “Fifteen minutes, more or less, won’t make much difference at this time of night.”

Miss Comstock was busy in the commissary, checking supplies which were to go aboard the eastbound planes and the girls all lent her a hand.

They plied Jane with questions about the trip, the encounter with the bandits, and how she had gotten along with Mrs. Van Verity Vanness.

“She’s an old dear,” said Jane. “I don’t care what the newspapers say about her, she certainly treated me splendidly, and just as we got to New York she invited me to accompany her as nurse and companion. She’s planning a round-the-world trip as soon as her son recovers.”

“And you turned that down?”

“I should say I did. Why, I wouldn’t trade this job of mine for almost anything else in the world. You’ll feel the same way before you’re half way through your first regular flight as stewardess. There’s a thrill to flying that can’t be found in anything else.”

“I’m willing to be shown,” said Grace.

The planes from the west came in on time, both of them loaded to capacity. New crews took over the controls at Cheyenne and Grace and Alice stowed the food away in the pantries. They checked their passenger lists and when the planes were refueled, called their passengers aboard.

“Good luck,” called Jane and Sue as they stood on the ramp and watched the big ships wheel out of the hangar. Then the planes roared away into a greying sky, which heralded the coming of another dawn.

A field car was available to take them to town and Miss Comstock joined them.

“Are you going to come out and see every ship off?” asked Jane.

“I should say not, but with all of the girls assigned to go out within the next 24 hours, I want to see that they get started right. After that, they’ll be on their own.”

“What assignment do we get?” asked Sue.

“You will be on the Night Flyer while Jane is to take the Coast to Coast Limited. You’ll go out tonight, while Jane’s first trip is tomorrow morning.”

“Then I’ll plan to do plenty of sleeping in the next few hours,” said Sue. “The Night Flyer means a slow trip to Chicago for it stops at every airport.”

Mrs. Murphy heard them come in, and appeared with her hair done up in curl papers and a faded kimono wrapped around her ample bulk. She insisted on going down and fixing a lunch, and over the kitchen table Jane spread out the New York papers. They read the stories, in great detail, and Mrs. Murphy appeared immensely pleased at the great publicity given to Jane’s fine work.

“I could tell the minute I laid eyes on you, that you’d be a winner,” she said proudly. “Now you’d best both be off to bed, for it’s circles you’ll be having under your eyes if you don’t.”

They thanked Mrs, Murphy for the lunch and hurried upstairs to undress and crawl between crisp, cool sheets just as the sun came over the horizon.

Mrs. Murphy came in later and adjusted the curtains on the porch, and the girls slept until mid-afternoon.

Sue, about to make her first flight alone, was nervous and excited. She fussed over the way her uniform fitted her trim figure and worried about what she would do if any of the passengers became ill.

“Just forget you’re in a plane and think about ward duty back in Good Samaritan, then you’ll know what to do,” advised Jane.

They had supper with Mrs. Murphy and then a car from the field called for them. The Night Flyer was due at ten o’clock, but Sue had at least an hour’s work in the commissary and she wanted to have plenty of time.

Miss Comstock, looking rather worn and tired, was still on duty and Mattie Clark was also at the field, looking very neat and business-like in her uniform.

“There’s two sections tonight on the Flyer,” Mattie informed Sue. “I’m going out on the first section and you’ll take the second.”

“Sue is assigned on the first section,” said Miss Comstock, who resented Mattie’s infringement of her authority. “You take No. 2.”

“But I want to be in Chicago early,” protested Mattie.

“Both ships will be there within five minutes of each other. Besides, Sue is to be on the Flyer regularly, and she might just as well get acquainted with the regular pilots who are on that run.”

Mattie was silent, but it was obvious that she was anything but pleased at Miss Comstock’s decision, and Jane knew more than ever, that Mattie was going to cause trouble for everyone else in the ranks of the stewardess corps.

Chapter Sixteen

Through the Fog

The first section of the Night Flier came in from the west three minutes ahead of schedule and with a capacity load. While the passengers stretched their legs and visited about the flight over the mountains from Salt Lake, Sue stowed her kit away in the pantry.

With departure time at hand, she forgot the nervousness which had gripped her earlier and became a calm, self-contained nurse.

“The best of luck,” whispered Jane as she squeezed her friend’s hand.

Sue herded her passengers into the cabin and closed the door. The landing stage was wheeled away and the Night Flyer lumbered out of the hangar on the first lap of the long flight to Chicago.

Jane watched the lights of the plane until they were pin-points in the east.

It was Sue’s task to make her passengers comfortable for the night and she went along the aisle, adjusting seats, turning off lights, and bringing out the thick, warm blankets from the supply closet. In half an hour she had the task completed and only one passenger, an elderly man, had elected to read, selecting a Cheyenne paper with the latest news.

As they sped east, Sue wondered at her own nervousness which had been so evident before the flight. Now everything seemed so matter-of-fact. She felt as though she had been flying for years.

A woman who had come through from ’Frisco was getting off at North Platte and Sue roused her just before they swooped down on the field. In ten minutes they were away again, with a radio order to stop at Grand Island to pick up a passenger for Chicago and another coast passenger would disembark at Lincoln.

The Night Flyer made most of the local stops, and as a result was anything but popular with the pilots. Most of the new men on the line drew the thankless job of piloting the Flyer, and the crew of Sue’s ship had been on only a little more than a month.

With a fair tail wind, they kept on time despite all of their stops, and they soared away from Omaha and over the muddy Missouri a few minutes after two a.m. with a new crew of pilots up ahead. The stewardesses made the entire trip from Cheyenne to Chicago, but the pilots changed at Omaha, unless piloting a special.

It was over this stretch of the line that Jane had encountered the thrilling experience which had brought her front page fame in every newspaper in the country and Sue looked out, halfway in the hope that something unusual enough to bring her fame, would happen.

But her hopes were doomed, and they went into Des Moines on time. The only field they missed was at Iowa City, and they sped over that one shortly after sunrise.

East of the Mississippi, they lost the sun in a murk of smoke and fog.

Sue’s light flashed, and she went forward to answer the call from the chief pilot.

“Weather around Chicago’s bad,” he said. “We may not be able to get through, so stall the passengers off if they get anxious about the time we’re due in Chicago.”

“But what will I tell them?” asked Sue.

“That’s your job. All I do is run this crate.”

Like Jane, Sue was finding out that pilots who on the ground were the pleasantest and most friendly flyers, were more than likely to be martinets when they were at the controls of a big passenger plane.

Sue took the rebuff good naturedly. Of course it was her job to keep the passengers from being alarmed.

Franklin Grove was the last of the emergency landing fields she saw, before the “soup” swallowed them and they looked out into a solid wall of rushing grey, so thick it almost hid the wings.

Passengers looked anxiously toward Sue, and one or two of them summoned her. To their questions, she replied as truthfully as she could that they had struck a bit of bad weather, but that the radio beacon was guiding the pilot and they expected to soon be out of the fog and into clear weather.

That explanation satisfied them for the first half hour, but after that Sue found herself in trouble and a rising fear gripping her own heart. The questions the passengers asked were more difficult to answer.

Why weren’t they out of the fog? They were late now getting into Chicago. Did the pilot know where he was? Why couldn’t they land and wait for the bad weather to clear?

Sue answered them as best she could and tried to remain calm, putting on the best professional manner of a trained nurse.

Her signal light glowed again and she went forward. The chief pilot looked years older.

“We’re in trouble,” he told her frankly. “I’ve lost my radio bearings and the gas is getting low. Have your passengers fasten their safety belts and see that there is no smoking. If we crash we don’t want any extra risk of fire.”

Sue returned to the cabin, hoping desperately that her face would not give away the gravity of their situation when she asked the passengers to put on their safety belts. She went from one to another, adjusting the belts, and informing them that they were about to land, but she didn’t add that it was likely to be a crash landing. When everyone was fastened to the seats, Sue reported to the chief pilot.

“Get back in the cabin. We’re going down,” he said curtly.

Sue watched the altimeter.. The needle dropped gently from the 3,000 feet at which they had been flying, but the wall of fog still enveloped the earth.

They nosed through it carefully, the air speed cut down to a hundred miles an hour. Even that speed was a terrific one at which to crash into the ground. Sue was too busy thinking about her passengers to sense her own emotions.

For five minutes the pilot groped his way down and suddenly the nose of the big ship shot through the fog. The plane flattened out 200 feet above the ground and skimmed along over farmhouses with the motors roaring heavily.

Suddenly the ship heeled over and for a sickening instant, Sue thought they were crashing until she caught sight of an airport and knew the pilot was sliding in for a fast landing.

As the plane touched the ground the motors sucked the last fuel from the tanks. The tri-motor rolled up to the hangar and Sue looked at the name painted above the large doors. They had come down at Joliet, nearly thirty miles south of their course.

The pilot came back.

“Weather’s still bad around Chicago,” he announced. “We’ll have taxis here in a few minutes to take you in.”

Sue helped her passengers collect their hand baggage and sheperded them into the taxis. In half an hour the last one was safely away for Chicago, and Sue had time to sit down and have a little cry all by herself.

They remained at Joliet until mid-afternoon, when the fog cleared and they hopped the short distance to the field at Chicago. It was then that Sue learned that the second section of the Night Flyer was down at Sterling, Illinois, with the weather west of Chicago still foggy and little chance of it clearing before mid-evening. Sue could imagine the wrath of Mattie Clark, who had been anxious to reach Chicago that morning.

Sue went to the office of the personnel director to be assigned quarters while in Chicago and learned that the line had leased two apartments nearby which would accommodate eight girls. They could cook their own meals there or go out to restaurants as they preferred, since the line’s only obligation was to domicile them while at the Chicago end of their runs.

“I talked with some of the passengers who came as far as Joliet with you,” said the personnel chief, “and they gave me some fine reports of your calmness. I feel that I owe Miss Hardy at Good Samaritan a letter of real appreciation for the girls she recommended.”

After leaving the personnel office, Sue looked at the bulletin board. The Coast to Coast Limited with Jane aboard would be in at five o’clock and she decided to wait for her.

Sue enjoyed a late lunch at the restaurant and then walked out on the ramp to watch the arrival and departure of the planes.

A crimson monoplane was being loaded for a run to Kansas City, while a trim, blue biplane was waiting for four passengers for Detroit. It all seemed so matter-of-fact, and Sue knew that after her flight through the fog that morning she would never again be afraid of flying.

Chapter Seventeen

An Ultimatum to Mattie

Sue met Jane when she stepped off the Coast to Coast Limited and together the girls went to the apartments which had been leased by the air line. They were in Chicago for the night. Sue booked out early the next morning and Jane later in the day.

Grace and Alice, also in Chicago, had been down town shopping that afternoon, but they all met at the apartment. There was an attractive kitchenette, but the girls were tired and they had dinner at a nearby restaurant. Later they walked to a neighborhood movie where they enjoyed the feature program.

When they returned to the apartment, Mattie Clark was there, still mad at the long delay which had kept her away from Chicago.

“Imagine having to stay out at the emergency field at Sterling almost all day,” she stormed. She turned on Sue angrily.

“If you hadn’t been so pig-headed back in Cheyenne, I’d have been on the first section and at least arrived during the daytime.”

“You can thank me you weren’t on the first section,” replied Sue calmly. “We got lost and were coming down for a crash landing when the fog cleared at Joliet and we sneaked down there. I was scared to death.”

Mattie looked at Sue skeptically.

“You don’t seem to believe me,” said Sue.

“Well, it’s a good story,” said Mattie.

Jane’s anger had mounted steadily and it got away from her.

“That’s enough, Mattie. We might as well have it out right now. I think you’re mean and small. You’re doing everything you can to make it unpleasant for Miss Comstock, and now you’re insulting Sue, because you know Sue is too even-tempered to fight back. Now just get out of here and after this keep out of my way.”

Mattie was furious and her face flamed with anger, but before she could reply, Alice stepped in.

“What Jane said goes for Grace and me,” she said. “The less we see of you, the better.”

“You’ll all be sorry for this,” flared Mattie as she slammed the door and went into the apartment across the hall.

“I’m sorry this had to happen,” Jane told the others, “but Mattie is out for trouble and she’s going to get it. From now on keep your eyes open, for she’ll trick you if she can.”

The stewardesses soon settled into the routine of the flights from Cheyenne to Chicago and return. It was interesting, pleasant work.

Jane banked the money she had received from the New York paper and from Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and when Charlie Fischer asked her if she’d like to take lessons in flying, she had the money necessary.

Charlie had a biplane at Cheyenne and between flights with the huge Federated planes, amused himself by hopping around the countryside and giving lessons to whatever pupils he could pick up. Of the stewardesses, Jane was the only girl who decided to take lessons.

Whenever she and Charlie were at Cheyenne, he took her up for flights, explaining the principles of aeronautics and letting her get the feel of the plane. One afternoon they flew to Denver and back, and on another occasion, went to Laramie.

Jane was blessed with air sense. When she had her hands on the control stick, she could almost anticipate every movement of the plane and Charlie praised her aptitude warmly.

The days rolled into mid-summer and July in Cheyenne was hot. It was refreshing to seek the coolness of the upper air in the late afternoon and Jane spent as much extra time aloft as she could afford. Then came the afternoon for her solo flight. The government inspector arrived and took his place in the rear cockpit.

Charlie Fischer looked up and grinned.

“Just forget the guy back there,” he said, “and you’ll get along fine.”

Jane’s throat tightened. Going up with a government inspector was quite different from going up with Charlie,

She opened the throttle and the biplane shot across the sun-baked field. Jane was glad the other girls were out on the line, for it would be embarrassing to come down and face them if the inspector should turn her down.

She lifted the biplane into the air and got altitude in easy circles over the airport. Then she started through the routine. As the thrill of the flight got into her blood, she forgot the inspector in the rear cockpit and gave her every energy to piloting the plane. With grace and skill, she directed the maneuvers until the inspector reached ahead, tapped her on the shoulder, and nodded toward the ground.

Jane cut the motor and they drifted down. Charlie Fischer was the first to reach the plane.

“How about it?” he asked the inspector.

“Just about perfect,” smiled the government official.

“Then I’ll get my license?” Jane asked breathlessly.

“There’s no question about that. I’m giving you an exceptionally high rating. Your license will be through shortly.”

It was another ten days, before the precious card with her license arrived from Washington and Jane showed it proudly to her roommates.

“It’s nice,” admitted Sue, “but what on earth will you do with it? You haven’t a plane and you can’t afford to rent Charlie Fischer’s.”

“I honestly don’t know,” confessed Jane, “but I wanted it. Some day I’ll be glad that I have the license and the ability to fly a plane.”

Mattie Clark was still causing trouble. Any other girl who so rankly showed her insubordination would have been fired within a week, but the fact that Mattie’s uncle was a company official saved her time and again. She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she seemed to take whole-hearted enjoyment in making Miss Comstock and the other girls miserable. Jane was her special hate.

Jane was still on the Coast to Coast, the crack run of the line, and summer had slipped over into August. A burning wind swept down out of the mountains and it was hot that morning when the eastbound Coast to Coast drifted in.

Mattie had been assigned to a westbound plane for the day, and was in the commissary while Jane checked over her supplies. As usual, Mattie made as many caustic remarks as possible, but Jane refused to answer.

Jane finished preparing the supplies to place aboard the plane and went out to call a field boy to help her carry the large hamper. When she returned with the boy, Mattie was still in the commissary and Jane looked at her sharply. Mattie flushed, but Jane thought nothing more of the incident.

The Coast to Coast was loaded and Jane sat on the jump seat at the rear of the plane. It was the usual crowd—a second-rate movie actress, several New York traveling men with flashy clothes, an elderly lady called east by a death in the family and the rest business men and women who had taken the plane to save time on their trip east.

Jane made sure that everyone had traveling kits, answered several questions about the weather ahead, and checked over her passenger list to see that everyone was in the proper seat.

The ship rolled out of the hangar and swept away into the east. Jane picked up the magazines and went along the aisle, offering them to passengers who cared to read. Most of them preferred to gaze at the landscape below.

They were east of Grand Island when Jane prepared lunch, serving sandwiches, a cool salad and an iced drink she had brought in a large thermos jug.

It was early afternoon when they cleared Omaha, with a stop scheduled ahead at Des Moines, the last one until Chicago. Council Bluffs had barely dropped out of sight when Jane began to feel ill. Just then a woman called her. She was feeling uneasy and Jane gave her a soda tablet.

She had hardly returned to her seat when everyone appeared stricken at the same moment. Her passengers became deathly ill and Jane herself was so sick she could hardly move. She managed to stagger ahead to the pilots’ cockpit and told them of what had happened. The big ship was turned about at once, roaring back for Omaha, while the co-pilot sent out a rush call for ambulances and doctors to meet it at the field.

By the time the tri-motor reached the Omaha field, Jane was too ill to move and everyone in the cabin was carried out and taken to the hospital for treatment.

Just before she left the field, Jane spoke to the chief pilot.

“Save the lunch,” she whispered. “It must have been that.”

He nodded and hurried away to see what he could find in the pantry.

Somehow the Omaha papers got hold of the story, and printed it on their front pages. As a result Hubert Speidel, the personnel chief, hurried out from Chicago on the first plane to make an investigation, and it was at Jane’s request that he had the food analyzed. Shortly after that he ordered an investigation to be held at Cheyenne and Jane, still weak from her sudden illness, wondered what he had learned.

Chapter Eighteen

Sue Plays Detective

Jane, who had been the most seriously ill of those aboard the Coast to Coast Limited, was in the Omaha hospital three days. She was far from well when she boarded a westbound plane for the inquiry at Cheyenne. The incident had brought unfavorable publicity to the line, and the personnel director was determined to get at the bottom of it.

The investigation was held in the administration building of the Cheyenne airport. In addition to Mr. Speidel, Miss Comstock was there, the pilots who had been on the plane, and Sue.

Jane was questioned first.

“Did you prepare the food which was placed aboard the plane that day?” the personnel chief asked her.

“Not all of it,” she replied. “The salad was supplied by the caterer, but I made the sandwiches and prepared the iced tea.”

“Did anyone else touch the food?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Was anyone else in the commissary while you were working?” continued the personnel director.

Jane was about to reply that she was alone when she remembered that Mattie had been there.

“Mattie Clark was there,” she said, wondering just what Mr. Speidel was attempting to learn from her.

“You know what caused the illness aboard the plane?” he went on.

“It was a strong irritant of some kind,” she replied, “but I wasn’t told at the hospital just what it was.”

The personnel director switched to another track.

“You wouldn’t have had any reason to place anything in the food, would you?”

Jane’s face flushed, and it was a struggle to keep from showing her intense anger, but she finally managed to reply “no,” in a calm voice.

“Do you know anyone who would do it as a grudge against you?”

“That question is hardly fair,” retorted Jane. “If I mention any names I might unjustly throw suspicion on someone who is not guilty.”

Through her mind, though, raced thoughts of Mattie and her promise of revenge. Mattie had been alone in the commissary long enough to dope the sandwiches or the salad, and she was capable of stooping to such a low trick. No matter what happened, as a result of the investigation, Jane resolved to see Mattie and have a talk with her.

“What do you know about this, Miss Comstock?” asked the personnel director, turning to the chief of the stewardess service.

“Very little, but I am sure that Miss Cameron is being treated very unfairly if anyone thinks she deliberately planned such a distressing incident as the one which took place aboard the Coast to Coast the other day.”

“But isn’t it true that Miss Cameron is one of your favorites?”

“I am no more partial to her than to the other girls. It happens that she is a most efficient and personable stewardess. I only wish that all of the girls were as capable as she.”

The pilots also spoke a good word for Jane, but she knew she was in a tight spot. Someone had prejudiced the personnel director against her and she strongly suspected the fine hand of Mattie Clark, working through her uncle.

Then Sue took a hand in the proceedings.

“I’ve been doing a little investigating on my own account,” she said. “It may interest you to know that a member of the stewardess staff bought the drug which was used to cause the illness aboard the plane.”

“What do you know about this?” demanded Mr. Speidel.

“Enough to clear Jane of any part in it,” replied Sue. “I have a sworn statement from the druggist who made the sale. He knows the stewardess who made the purchase and named her in the affidavit.”

Sue waved the paper and the personnel chief seized it eagerly.

“I think this investigation is over,” he said as he finished reading the affidavit. “I am sorry, Miss Cameron, to have caused you any embarrassment.”

Once outside, Jane hugged Sue enthusiastically.

“You were a peach to do that piece of sleuthing,” she said. “For a while it looked like I was in a tight place.”

“But you haven’t asked me who bought the drug,” said Sue.

“I don’t need to. It was Mattie. I remembered seeing her in the commissary the other day. Honestly, I hardly thought Mattie would stoop to such a trick. Why, think what would have happened if the pilots had eaten any of that lunch.”

“I did,” replied Sue, “which is one reason why I went sneaking around the drug stores in Cheyenne. Mattie was pretty sure of herself for she bought it in the store where we usually go for our sodas. The druggist didn’t want to give me an affidavit, but when I threatened to swing all of the stewardess trade to the store across the street he decided to sign.”

They were having dinner that night at Mrs. Murphy’s when Alice, just off a run from the east, came in.

“Guess who I saw leaving the field?” she said.

“Mattie Clark,” replied Jane.

“You’re a mind-reader. It was Mattie and she was going as a passenger. What’s up?”

Sue told Alice briefly what had taken place during the afternoon.

“Serves Mattie right,” said Alice. “Everything will be smoother now that she’s gone. But I’ve got some news none of you will guess.”

“Don’t keep us waiting too long,” smiled Jane.

“Roscoe James, the famous film director, came out on the plane from Chicago.”

“That’s nothing. Frederic March flew east with me the other day and never even looked at me,” said Sue.

“Yes, but Roscoe James stopped here.”

“Which means what?” asked Jane.

“His company, the Mammoth, is going to film an air story with the Cheyenne field for the background.”

Chapter Nineteen

Needed—One Pilot

Jane and Sue looked at Alice incredulously.

“Do you mean to stand there and tell me that Roscoe James and the Mammoth Film Company are going to make a motion picture here at the Cheyenne field?” demanded Sue.

“I’m not going to stand and tell you,” sighed Alice, dropping into a chair. “I’m going to ease my weary legs, but at the same time, I’ll repeat that the local field is going to be used for the background of the next Roscoe James feature production.”

“Maybe we’ll get a chance to work as extras,” gasped Sue.

“About all we can hope to do is to be on the sidelines looking on,” said Alice. “Mr. James was talking to the operations manager when I left the field. The company will be here next week to start work on the outdoor scenes, all of which will be filmed here.”

“What luck for me,” put in Jane. “I’ve only one round trip to Chicago scheduled. That means I’ll have most of the week here, where I can watch the company at work.”

“And if they need a cook, maybe it will be my chance to get in the movies,” added Mrs. Murphy as she hurried in from the kitchen. Little of the girls’ conversation escaped Mrs. Murphy and she had kept an ear finely tuned to their talk about the coming of the film company.

Jane was scheduled east the next morning on the Coast to Coast. Just before the ship came in from Salt Lake City, she saw the famous film director in conference with the operations manager. With them was Charlie Fischer. After a time he ambled over to talk with Jane.

“Going to be great doings here,” grinned Charlie. “I’m in the movies already.”

“What are you going to do?”

“They’ve got to have some stunt flying and they can’t afford to have the leading man risk his neck. I’m elected to pilot the ship. Means a lot of fun and quite a few extra shekels.”

“Try and get me a job as an extra,” urged Jane.

“I’ll do my best, but the star might object.”

When Jane returned from Chicago a part of the technical crew had arrived and equipment was being set up at the field. Every girl in the stewardess corps was hopeful that she might be selected for some extra role for all of them secretly cherished the desire to be a film star.

Grace, coming in from the west on a late plane, rushed in and woke them.

“Who do you suppose came in with me?” she gasped.

“Probably Gary Macklin,” said Sue, naming the latest Hollywood favorite.

“Good guess,” said Grace.

“Do you mean Gary Macklin is going to have the leading role in the picture here?” demanded Alice, now thoroughly awake.

“That’s just what I mean, and his leading lady is going to be Claudette Barrett. She came in on the same plane.”

“My favorite combination,” breathed Sue. “I think I’ll ask for a leave of absence.”

“Not much chance of your getting that, for business on the line is picking up every day,” said Jane.

“You should comment, with only one trip scheduled next week. How about trading schedules?”

“I should say not. I’m just as anxious as you are to see how a film is made,” smiled Jane.

“Does anyone know what the story is about?” Alice asked.

“I heard Mr. Macklin and Miss Barrett talking about it when we stopped at Rock Springs. Miss Barrett is going to have the role of a stewardess and Mr. Macklin plays the part of the ace pilot of the line.”

“Charlie Fischer should have that role,” put in Sue.

“Charlie’s going to do the stunt flying,” said Jane.

“If Miss Barrett’s going to be a stewardess, we ought to see quite a bit of her,” Alice said hopefully. “If there’s anything dangerous to be done, we might even get a chance to double for her.”

More members of the cast of “The Sky Riders,” as the film was tentatively titled, arrived over the week-end and on Monday morning the company was ready to start shooting the scenes.

The Cheyenne airport had been given a thorough cleaning and everything from fences and lights around the border to the wind sock on the beacon tower had been touched up.

Jane, due out on the Coast to Coast, watched the company assembling. Roscoe James, the director, was a giant of a man, well over six feet in height and broad of shoulder.

A taxi rolled up and Claudette Barrett, the leading woman, stepped out. She was a trifle taller than Jane, with brown hair and brown eyes, and Jane was surprised to see the film star wearing the uniform of a Federated Airways stewardess. It was perfectly tailored and Miss Barrett even had the jaunty little beret fitted snugly over her carefully marcelled hair. She had a pleasant smile and spoke to several members of the company.

Another cab arrived and Gary Macklin, tall, dark and strikingly handsome, jumped out. He gave Jane the impression of always being in a hurry and of having an abundance of energy.

A camera crew had its equipment ready and when the Coast to Coast came into view, started grinding away. The big plane landed smoothly and rolled into the hangar.

Jane forced herself to turn to her duties and she went forward to relieve the stewardess who had come in from Salt Lake City, taking over the passenger list and making sure that her own supplies were placed aboard the plane. She was stowing the lunch away in the pantry when someone spoke to her and she turned to face Claudette Barrett.

“I hope I won’t bother you,” said the film star, “but since I’m supposed to be a stewardess, I’ve got to learn something about the business.” She had a pleasant smile and Jane felt an instant liking for this attractive girl of the films.

“I’ll be glad to show you whatever I can. I’m Jane Cameron.”

“Why, I’ve read lots about you. You were the stewardess who was with Mrs. Van Verity Vanness when bandits tried to abduct her. I was in New York at the time and read all about it in the Globe. What a thrilling experience that must have been.”

“I wouldn’t want very many of them,” confessed Jane.

“Go ahead with your work. I’ll just watch and ask questions.” Jane stowed the contents of the large hamper away in the pantry and looked at her watch.

“We’ve only three more minutes here. It’s time now to get the passengers back into the plane.”

Jane led the way outside. Over in front of the commissary Sue, Alice and Grace were watching the proceedings enviously.

“My roommates are all anxious to meet you,” Jane said, “and they’ll be glad to give you any assistance possible.”

“I’m going to need it,” smiled the film star.

The girls were almost overwhelmed when Jane brought Miss Barrett to meet them, but they found her so natural and interested in their work that they were soon conversing with her freely.

The last Jane saw of them as the Coast to Coast roared away, they were taking Miss Barrett into the stewardess headquarters.

When Jane returned on Wednesday, the film company was in the midst of active shooting. Two of the big tri-motored transports had been chartered for use and were landing and taking off for special shots of the field while camera crews on the ground photographed them.

At dinner that night, the girls told Jane how they had been drafted as extras for a crowd scene in the hangar.

“It was thrilling,” said Alice. “Just think, actually in the movies.”

“We even got paid just for standing around. I’d almost have been willing to pay them,” put in Grace.

“The worst of it is,” mourned Sue, “more crowd scenes are scheduled for shooting tomorrow and we’re all scheduled out.”

“All except lucky Jane, who’s in for the rest of the week,” said Grace.

“I’ll try and skip around in the crowd scenes and take the places of all of you,” Jane consoled them.

“Mrs. Murphy’s going to be the Cheyenne star in the picture,” chuckled Sue. “The director saw her at the field and he drafted her for a comedy role. It was taken this morning and was as funny as could be. They dressed Mrs. Murphy up in an old-fashioned outfit with a bonnet and a parrot in a cage. She was taking her first trip by plane and all she had to do was to look flustered and talk about her fear.”

“Yes, and Mrs. Murphy’s never been up,” added Grace. “When she started toward the plane she forgot all about being in a movie and began to get scared. By the time she reached the steps, she wasn’t acting and Miss Barrett and Mr. Macklin had to almost force her into the ship. Mrs. Murphy’s brogue was so thick you could cut it and the whole film crew laughed until they were just about worn out. Mrs. Murphy got a hundred dollars for the scene and she’s tickled to death.”

All the girls were scheduled out on early ships the next morning and Jane went to the field with them. Even at that hour, Director James was on hand making plans for the day’s schedule.

After the early planes had cleared the field, Jane saw him talking to Charlie Fischer, who had been given a leave of absence to do the stunt flying. A few minutes later Charlie came over and joined her.

“This is my big day,” he said. “If I do all of the tricks they want me to, I’ll go crazy.”

“What do you have to do?”

“They’re practically re-enacting the scene of the bandit plane attacking us, and I’ve got to fly the bandit ship. They had a chap from Denver slated to come up and do that while I flew the army plane which arrived just in time. Now I’ll have to fly the bandit plane through a lot of maneuvers and then come down, get another ship which will be painted like an army plane, and do some more stunts all around one of the tri-motors.”

“But that won’t seem like an aerial battle.”

“The director says they can cut the film in the laboratory so it will look all right. Of course he’d like to have both the bandit and the army ships up at the same time, but he’s short a pilot and the scene must be filmed this morning. Hiring these big tri-motors is cutting heavily into his expense budget.”

“Why not let me fly one of the ships?” suggested Jane. “If you were in the other one, I know I’d get along all right.”

Charlie looked at her sharply.

“Golly, Jane, I never thought of that. Say, my ship is the one that’s been painted up as the bandit plane. You could fly that with your eyes shut and I could take the army plane.”

“I know we could do it,” said Jane.

“Then here goes. We’re on our way to see the director right now.”

Chapter Twenty

Down in Flames

Director James was giving orders to the camera crew which was to go aloft in one of the tri-motors. He appeared tired and worried and his greeting to Charlie Fischer was short.

“I’m not looking for any more extras,” he growled as he saw Jane with the flyer.

“Sure, sure,” agreed Charlie, who had a soothing and persuasive way, “but you do need an extra pilot and you need one in a hurry. This girl can handle one of the planes. I know, I trained her to fly.”

The director stared at Charlie.

“Tell me another one,” he snorted.

“Listen,” said Charlie, “I’m not kidding. This is straight from the shoulder. You let this girl go up in my plane and she’ll do all of the tricks your cameras can catch and a few more thrown in. She’s a natural flyer, knows the feel of a plane, becomes a part of it from the second she gets into the cockpit.”

Director James looked thoughtful. “We do need another pilot,” he admitted, “but I hate to think of a girl trying all of those stunts.”

Jane decided it was time to say a word.

“If I fly Charlie’s plane, I know I can handle the assignment,” she said eagerly. “With Charlie in the other ship there’ll be little chance of anything going wrong. I’d like to have the opportunity to try it.”

The director looked at his watch.

“We start shooting in half an hour,” he decided. “We’ll take a chance.”

“Come on, Jane. We’ve got to work fast,” said Charlie, seizing her arm and almost pulling her after him. “Get into boots and breeches. You’re going to wear a chute. If anything should happen you’ll be ready for it.”

“But, Charlie, I’ve never used a chute,” protested Jane.

“There’s always a first time,” said Charlie darkly. “Now mind what I tell you.”

Jane hurried into the stewardess quarters where she kept her flying clothes in a locker. Miss Comstock came in while she was changing.

“What’s this I hear about you piloting one of the planes for the movie people?” she asked.

“I’m going to be a bold, bad bandit,” smiled Jane. “They’re short a flyer and can’t wait for another man to come up from Denver.”

“But don’t you think it’s rather dangerous? I don’t want to lose my star stewardess.”

“Nothing will happen,” promised Jane. “I’ll be flying Charlie’s ship and I could do that blindfolded.”

She pulled her boots on and tied a scarlet scarf around her bobbed hair. In brown boots, white breeches, a soft white silk shirt open at the neck and the flaming scarf around her hair, Jane was a striking picture.

“Look out,” cautioned Miss Comstock, “or the film people will be offering you a contract.”

“No chance. You’ve got to be able to act.” Jane dabbed a bit of fresh powder on her cheeks and hurried out to greet Charlie Fischer. The tall pilot was wearing one chute pack and he carried another in his arms.

“Just about time to start,” he said. “The ships are over on the ramp warming up.”

Jane looked at Charlie’s plane. The speedy old biplane had been repainted and now was shining black. Just beyond it was a smaller and faster biplane painted to represent an army pursuit craft. It was this ship that Charlie was to handle.

Director James was waiting between the planes. He eyed Jane approvingly as she approached for she looked cool and business-like.

“You’re to fly as though attacking the No. 1 transport,” he told Jane. “Keep away from the second ship with the camera crew. Make it look good. We’ve got a machine gun mounted on your plane and when you dash in, pull the trigger and send bursts of blanks at the transport.”

While he was giving his instructions, the first transport roared into the air. As soon as the drone of the motors faded, he continued.

“On signal from the camera plane, Charlie will drop down on you. I want you two to make it look like a good aerial dog-fight. Twist and turn and do plenty of power diving. When you see a red flag waved from the camera plane, go into a dive and jerk the smoke pot lever that’s been rigged into your plane. That will release a cloud of smoke and make it appear that you’re going down in flames. All of this must be done above 3,000 feet. At 1,000 feet you level off for we won’t try to follow you with the cameras below that point. Think you understand everything?”

“I’m sure I do,” replied Jane.

“Don’t you worry,” put in Charlie. “This is going to be the best air action your cameras ever caught.”

Jane adjusted the straps of her parachute and Charlie boosted her into the cockpit of his biplane.

“If anything goes wrong,” he told her, “just bale over the side and after you’re clear, jerk the ring. Don’t worry about the ship. I made the movie people sign a guarantee to replace it, if anything should happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” said Jane firmly.

“Atta girl. Let’s go.”

Charlie ran to the other plane and hoisted his long legs into the cockpit. Jane opened the motor of the biplane, waved to Miss Comstock, who was standing nearby, and then sped across the field.

It was a glorious summer morning and to the north and west the peaks of the majestic Rockies reared their heads above the clouds which obscured their lower levels. Jane tingled with the zest of her adventure. She was actually in the movies. Of course she was just doing a stunt, but when “The Sky Riders” came to Cheyenne she would have the pleasure of knowing that she had piloted one of the planes in an important piece of action.

Above Jane the first tri-motor, the plane she was to attack, was climbing steadily while the second of the big ships, with the director and main camera crew, was wheeling off the field. Charlie was already in the air, following her fast.

It took them fifteen minutes to get into position for action and at a signal from the director in the second tri-motor, the first plane lined away west, simulating a transport in regular flight. Jane, who was a thousand feet above the transport, jammed the throttle on full and dove for the big plane.

The wings of her biplane trembled under the crashing dive, but she knew the plane’s capabilities and her heart thrilled as she roared down on the big ship.

The machine gun spouted flame and smoke as she pulled the trigger. She flashed past the tri-motor, nosed up, and poured another volley of fake bullets at the big ship. Now the chase was on in earnest, the pilots of the tri-motor making every attempt to elude the pursuer and Jane was astounded at the tricky flying which could be done with one of the big transports.

Back and forth they roared through the sky, twisting and turning, until it became a real game. Then the roar of another motor came to Jane’s ears and she looked back to see Charlie dropping down on her. That was her cue to stop chasing the tri-motor and attempt to save herself.

She dropped her own plane into a quick, twisting dive, that caught Charlie unawares and he missed her the first time, but he came fighting back, his own machine gun spouting blanks. For twenty minutes they twisted and turned, first Charlie gaining the advantage and then Jane. Then she saw a red flag waving from the camera plane. It was the signal for the dive on which she was to release the smoke pot.

Charlie was well above her, diving again. Jane waited until his plane was almost on her. Then she spun her own ship into a twisting plunge and tripped the trigger of the smoke pot apparatus.

Almost instantly a cloud of thick, heavy smoke rolled out of the fuselage behind her and Charlie’s plane disappeared for a second in the smoke screen.

Jane watched the altimeter. She had been up 3,100 feet when she released the smoke pot. At a thousand feet above ground she was to level off and scoot back to the Cheyenne field.

She had been too busy warding off Charlie’s attack to watch just where they were and was surprised to find herself just north of the home field. For all Jane knew they might have been thirty miles away.

The biplane spun down dizzily, the speed increasing until the wing wires screamed in protest. But it was good action and Jane knew the movie cameras would catch every bit of it as the smoking plane thundered toward the ground.

She felt remarkably cool as the speed increased. She had every confidence in the sturdy old biplane and at 1,800 feet she pulled the stick back a bit to see how the plane responded. To her horror there was no lessening in the angle of the dive and she turned quickly. The controls had jammed and the tail of her plane was ablaze, set afire in some way by the smoke pot.

Chapter Twenty-one

Too Much Action

For a moment sickening panic gripped Jane. Then she remembered that Charlie had insisted that she wear a parachute and there was plenty of time for her to bail out of the falling plane.

Jane looked back. Charlie’s ship sped out of the trail of smoke and she saw his tense face peering over the cockpit. Behind him boomed the camera ship, recording every movement of the planes.

The flames, whipped by the wind, mounted and Jane knew there was little time to lose. They were down to 1,200 feet and she steeled herself for the leap from the plane.

It was her first jump and she hesitated for a moment. Desperately she tried the controls again but there was no hope there. The plane was falling at an alarming rate of speed.

Jane crouched in the seat, making sure that the chute was clear of any obstructions. It took nerve and a cool head to do what was ahead. At 1,000 feet she shot out of the plane, doubling over twice as she tumbled through the air.

The blazing biplane roared past her and she pulled the chute ring, using both hands. Behind her the pilot chute cracked out and then the great silken umbrella filled with air. Her plunge downward was stopped suddenly and she found herself drifting 800 feet above the ground.

The leap from the plane had been so sudden Jane had no time to analyze her feelings while she fell, but now, swinging below the parachute, she felt weak and sick.

The biplane spun downward, smoke and flame shooting from the fuselage. Close behind it followed Charlie, riding it to the ground, while above hovered the camera ship.

Jane was swinging under the chute in a wide arc. That would never do for she would be slapped hard against the ground. Pulling on the lines above, she checked the swinging. There was a slight wind from the north that would take her down on the Cheyenne airport.

Jane watched the biplane closely as it neared the ground. It struck, nose first and then disappeared in a volcano of smoke and flame.

Jane closed her eyes and when she opened them she had drifted past the scene of the wrecked plane and was coming down over the north boundary of the airport. A car from the main building was racing toward her. Jane recognized the ambulance trailing after it. They were taking no chances.