Front matter (continued 3)

She tried to relax as the chute neared the ground. She knew that tense muscles might result in a broken bone for landing in a parachute was anything but a lark.

Three field mechanics jumped from the car and ran to catch Jane as she landed. One of them managed to reach her in time to ease the shock of the fall, but she got a severe jar.

They helped Jane out of the chute harness and she stepped clear just as Miss Comstock arrived aboard the ambulance.

“Are you hurt, Jane?” she asked anxiously.

“Just scared a little,” confessed Jane, who now felt trembly all over.

“I was so afraid you weren’t going to jump in time,” said the chief stewardess. “I’m about ready to go to the hospital myself.”

Just then Charlie Fischer pan-caked in for a quick landing, leaped from his plane and ran toward them.

“All right, Jane?” he asked.

“Yes, but your plane’s a wreck,” she replied, pointing beyond the north boundary of the field where flames were licking around the remains of the biplane.

“Forget about the plane,” growled Charlie, “just as long as you came out all right.”

Jane entered the field car and Miss Comstock accompanied her, the mechanics remaining to fold up the parachute. While on their way back to the administration building, the camera plane landed. As soon as it reached the hangar, the director leaped out and hurried toward Jane.

Before he could reach her, Charlie, who had taxied his plane across the field, cut in. He was raging mad at the slip-shod work of the movie men who had made the installation of the smoke pot in the ship Jane had flown.

“You ought to be kicked clear off the field,” he shouted at the director. “There wasn’t any danger in the stunt until we had to depend on the work of some of your men and then everything went wrong. I’ve a good notion to sock somebody.”

“It was a regrettable accident,” admitted the director, attempting to placate the angry Charlie, “and the company is willing to pay Miss Cameron handsomely for her work.”

“Fat lot of good that would have done her if she hadn’t got down all right,” snorted Charlie.

“I’m very sorry the smoke pot set the plane on fire,” said the director turning to Jane. “As you know I was hesitant about having you fly at all.”

“I don’t blame you for the accident,” replied Jane. “We did so much twisting and turning up there that the smoke pot was probably dislodged. I hope it didn’t spoil your film.”

The director smiled. “I think we’ve probably the best airplane shots ever made for the cameramen were able to follow your ship until it crashed. Of course we’ll have to cut a few feet where you jumped, but that can be done very easily.”

Jane’s work was over and she wanted to get away and be alone for a time. Perhaps she’d even cry a little for the tension had been terrific. She slipped away and went to Mrs. Murphy’s where she undressed, took a refreshing bath, and went to bed. It was early evening when she wakened and went down stairs.

Mrs. Murphy emerged from the kitchen.

“A gentleman called a time ago and left this letter for you. I think he was from the film company.”

Jane looked at the letter. The return address was that of the leading hotel in the city. She opened the envelope and drew out a crisp check. It was made payable to Jane Cameron in the amount of $250 and was signed by Roscoe James for the Mammoth Film Company.

Jane’s eyes blurred. Why that check would more than equal all of the money she had spent learning how to fly, but she decided that she wouldn’t want to do film stunts for a living.

There was a note with the check and Jane read it eagerly.

“Dear Miss Cameron: We are showing early shots of the film tonight at the hotel at eight. The scenes taken this morning will be included and we would like to have you present. The check is in appreciation of your fine work. Cordially, Roscoe James.”

Jane’s heart leaped. She wouldn’t have to wait until the picture was completed and released. She could see the pictures of the airplane action that night.

“Mrs. Murphy,” she called, “we’re going to the hotel at eight o’clock. They’re showing scenes of the picture which have been taken at Cheyenne.”

“What a pity the other girls aren’t here,” said Mrs. Murphy. “I’m all in a bustle I’m that excited. Do you suppose I took well?”

“I’m sure you did.”

“But did they invite me to see the pictures?” asked Mrs. Murphy anxiously.

“Well, they didn’t exactly mention you by name, but I know they won’t object. You get your hat and we’ll go along. We’ve only a little more than time enough to get there now.”

“But you’ve had no supper, Jane.”

“I’m not hungry. I’m too excited.”

“Well, you’re going to eat,” said Mrs. Murphy firmly, who believed that food was necessary at regular intervals. “There’s several sandwiches and a glass of milk in the ice box. You eat that while I’m fixing my hair.”

When they reached the hotel, Charlie Fischer and Miss Comstock were waiting in the lobby.

“This is going to be a real treat,” smiled Miss Comstock. “I never thought I’d be in a movie, even as an extra in a crowd scene.”

“And I never dreamed that I would pilot a plane with cameras recording the scene,” admitted Jane.

“You might add that you never dreamed you would have to take to a chute to get down,” put in Charlie.

“You’re right and once is enough,” said Jane firmly.

The pictures were to be shown in the ballroom. While they waited, Miss Barrett and Gary Macklin came out of the dining room. They paused to visit, awaiting the arrival of the director.

“I hear I missed some unusual action by staying in bed this morning,” smiled Miss Barrett.

“It was too much action,” said Charlie.

“How did you ever have the nerve to jump?” the film star asked Jane.

“It wasn’t nerve,” replied Jane, “it was just a case of necessity.”

The director arrived and they went into the ballroom where a screen had been erected at one end and a portable projector placed at the other.

“We’re going to run through everything we’ve taken,” explained the director as the company, including cameramen and technicians, gathered. Turning to the Federated Airways people, he explained, “Of course there is no sound on the print we’re running tonight. The noise of the airplane engines will be produced in the home studio and worked into the sound track later.”

They found seats and the lights were turned off. There was no title to precede the start of the actual picture, the first scene being of the Cheyenne airport with the Coast to Coast Limited coming in from the west. Jane started as she recognized the familiar action which had taken place only that Monday morning. She saw herself walking across the concrete floor to speak to the incoming stewardess. Then she entered the cabin and a few seconds later another stewardess walked across the hangar.

Jane smiled for the second girl was Claudette Barrett, looking exceedingly attractive in the uniform of a Federated Airways stewardess. Then there was a shot of the plane taking off, and, after that, pictures of Miss Barrett and Gary Macklin talking in the shadows of one of the great tri-motors, several shots showing the leading man at the controls of one of the big planes, and a number showing him in the cockpit of the army plane which Charlie had flown that morning.

Pictures of the planes coming in at night, especially, thrilled Jane. In the crowd scenes she saw Sue, Alice, Grace and Miss Comstock. Then came the unforgettable scene, with Mrs. Murphy trying to make up her mind about getting aboard the plane, and the efforts of Miss Barrett and Gary Macklin to convince her that flying was safe. The entire group burst into hearty laughter and the director leaned back to speak to Miss Barrett.

“That’s one of the best bits of natural comedy I’ve seen in years,” Jane heard him say.

The picture swung into the air action which had been taken that morning, showing the departure of the tri-motor. Then Jane saw the black plane which she had piloted bearing down on the transport and she leaned forward in her chair. This was her part of the picture. Her mouth felt dry and her brow was hot as she watched the black plane dart toward the unsuspecting tri-motor.

Smoke and flame shot from the gun on her plane as she maneuvered to force the transport down. The camera range had been too long to get a glimpse of Jane’s face and reveal that a girl was flying the plane, but her scarf, which had been wound around her head, trailed over the edge of the cockpit, whipping in the wind.

The director turned to an assistant. “Make a note that when we take the close-up shots in the studio there must be a scarf tied to the helmet of the pilot of the bandit plane.”

Out of the clouds dropped Charlie Fischer in the army plane, roaring down upon Jane and the black ship. For the next few minutes Jane was almost breathless as she watched the maneuvers in the air. It was more thrilling than she had dared to imagine, and the cameras had caught every twist and turn of the plane. Then came the last dive by Charlie and the puff of smoke from the black biplane, which fell away in a twisting dive.

Jane, watching intently, saw flames lick out of the fuselage and seconds later she catapulted from the burning plane. The cameras, following the blazing ship, failed to show her chute open, but they kept the focus on the plane until it smashed into the ground, a flaming mass of wreckage.

The film sputtered out of the projector and the lights in the ballroom came on. Director James turned to Jane and Charlie.

“Congratulations on some exceptionally fine flying,” he said. Then, aiming his question at Jane, he asked, “How would you like to come to Hollywood? I’m sure we could find some small roles for a girl who has your coolness and nerve.”

Jane shook her head firmly.

“Once was enough. I’ve had all of the movie experience I want.”

Chapter Twenty-two

Promotion for Jane

“What’s this I hear about your turning down an offer to go to Hollywood?” demanded Sue when she reached Mrs. Murphy’s the next morning after a night flight from Chicago.

“Did you really do that?” asked Grace, who had just arrived.

Jane smiled at their insistent questions.

“I did something like it,” she confessed. “At least I recall that Mr. James mentioned something about going to Hollywood. He said he thought he could find work there for me in minor parts.”

“And you turned that down?” gasped Sue.

“I certainly did. I’m no actress and I know it. Perhaps I could get by for a time on my ability to do aviation scenes, but that wouldn’t last long and then I’d be looking for a job.”

“But think of all the romance of going to Hollywood,” Sue insisted.

“There wouldn’t be much romance in going hungry,” replied Jane. “I’m satisfied.”

“I think you’re smart,” put in Grace. “In Chicago the last trip, I heard that with business picking up, the line was going to put on more girls. That means Miss Comstock will need an assistant and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you were appointed.”

“I’d like that if I could keep on flying,” said Jane, “but why do you think I have a chance?”

“Easy,” smiled Grace. “For one thing, you’re the best-known stewardess on the line. You’ve got a pleasing personality, all of the girls like you, and you certainly know your work. What more is needed?”

“Nothing,” confessed Jane, “but your specifications don’t fit me.”

“Just wait and see,” predicted Grace.

The motion picture company remained at Cheyenne the rest of the week, but the shots did not require extras although the girls often saw members of the company at the airport.

“There go my hopes of a film career,” smiled Sue a little ruefully, as she watched the director, and the leading man and lady board a westbound plane Sunday morning. “Guess I wasn’t cut out for an actress after all.”

“But you’re in the picture as an extra, like the rest of us,” Alice consoled her.

“We’ll be lucky if they don’t decide to eliminate the scenes we’re in,” said Grace cheerfully. “Of course I’ve written my folks all about the picture and they’ll need a microscope to find me.”

During the next week word came out from Chicago that six more girls were being recruited and would be sent to Cheyenne to take the training course. Soon after that, Miss Comstock summoned Jane to her office.

“You’ve heard the service is to be enlarged?” she asked and Jane nodded.

“It will mean considerable additional work in training these girls, while I am supervising the regular routine,” she went on. “I have asked the company for an assistant and they have given me permission to select one of the girls in the ranks.” She paused and Jane’s heart leaped hopefully.

“I should like to have you help me,” went on Miss Comstock and Jane felt her face flushing. “Your salary will be advanced to $140 a month, but at present I would prefer that none of the other girls know about this salary arrangement. What do you think about it?”

“I’m delighted,” said Jane. “Of course I’ll be glad to do anything that I can, but I don’t want to go out of active flying altogether.”

“You won’t,” promised the chief stewardess. “After these girls are trained, you’ll go back on the Coast to Coast. I’m going to take you off regular assignment next Sunday for the girls will arrive early Monday morning. I shall plan to turn over most of the work in the classroom and the commissary to you.”

When Jane told her companions of the good news, they were almost as pleased as she.

“I wonder who is going to get your place on the Coast to Coast?” mused Sue.

“You are, my dear. I saw Miss Comstock making out your transfer card just as I left.”

“Then you’ll have to watch your laurels,” warned Sue, “for I’ve always wanted the Coast to Coast and I’ll do my best to make such a fine record they’ll decide to keep me on that run. Most of the celebrities pick the Coast to Coast. It’s got the fastest and most convenient schedule.”

“And the prettiest stewardesses,” added Alice.

The new girls arrived at 9:30 o’clock Monday morning and Miss Comstock greeted them. They were all from Chicago hospitals, pretty, as well as efficient. Jane catalogued them mentally, looking for the possible troublemakers, for after the departure of Mattie Clark, the routine had been pleasant and they wanted to keep things that way. None of the new girls appeared to be inclined toward a “know-it-all” attitude, for which Jane was grateful.

Miss Comstock introduced her and turned over the routine of helping the girls find rooms. Jane knew Cheyenne so well by now, that she was in an excellent position to advise them, and immediately after lunch they plunged into the routine of classes, which was to prepare the newcomers for permanent positions in the service.

The girls were eager and alert and Jane found the class work pleasant. There was nothing of the nervousness and drudgery about it that she had feared.

When it came time for Miss Comstock to put the girls through the final examinations, they passed with flying colors, much to the credit of their young instructor.

Some weeks later big news sped along the line. New planes were being made in the company’s plant at Tacoma. The old tri-motors which had braved the elements through winter and summer for four years were to be retired. The new ships would have two engines, of 600 horsepower each, and would speed along at 180 to 190 miles an hour, with a top speed of 210.

Jane asked Charlie Fischer about the planes, but Charlie professed to be in almost complete ignorance.

“We’ve got to go to school and learn how to handle them,” he said. “I’m starting for Tacoma tomorrow night. I hear they’re all metal with the latest do-dads the inventors can stick on them. Pretty soon we’ll have to have an expert along to tell the pilot what to do.”

All of the ace pilots of the line were called to Tacoma at various intervals to see the new planes. Charlie returned enthusiastic.

“They’re the greatest ships ever built,” he told Jane and Sue, the first time he saw them after his return. “Why we’ll be able to outrun the lightning. They carry ten passengers, two pilots and a stewardess, although I don’t know why they want the latter tagging along.”

“Seems to me, Charlie,” interrupted Sue, “that once or twice you’ve been mighty glad to have a stewardess on the ship.”

“Must have been some other fellow,” grinned Charlie. “Just wait until you see your pantry. The whole thing’s done in the latest stainless metal. My instrument board looks like an inventor’s paradise, but I guess I’ll be able to figure out what all of the gauges and dials are for.”

Interest in the new planes ran high and the first test flight across the entire system was set for October 2nd. According to the tentative schedule, they would clip at least eight hours off the coast to coast time.

Jane hoped that she would get the first assignment, for she was back in active service, but Grace drew the coveted slip, which gave her the right to care for the passengers on the initial flight of the new queen of the air.

They watched the progress of the swift craft from the moment it left the Golden Gate. As many of the Cheyenne crew as possible grouped about the radio in the communications office. With a favoring tail wind, the pilots west of Cheyenne kept the average at better than 190 miles an hour, including stops. It was fast enough to make them almost dizzy.

“I’ll bet I never get a deep breath from here to Chicago,” smiled Grace, as the silver monoplane settled down on the Cheyenne field.

The new craft was a thing of beauty, all metal, with one low wing. The propellers were set ahead of the wing and the wheels folded into the body when it was in flight. The fuselage with the pilots’ cockpit and cabin for the passengers was like the body of a wasp, long and gracefully stream-lined to reduce wind resistance.

Jane and Sue accompanied Grace to the plane, anxious to see what the interior was like. It was not as roomy as the hulking tri-motors, but the seats were more comfortable and the pantry which the stewardess used was complete to the latest detail. The lights were soft and easily adjustable. Each passenger could control the ventilation of the individual windows. The interior was in black and brown, pleasingly harmonious.

There was a full passenger list, and Grace was busy checking over the list and making sure the necessary supplies were aboard. Then the sleek craft was away, Jane and Sue waving, as the monoplane rolled out of the hangar. Grace waved back as the night swallowed the plane.

For two hours Jane and Sue remained at the field, listening to reports of the speeding ship, which was setting a new record for air passenger travel in the United States.

“What fun it would be aloft tonight,” said Sue a bit sadly, “and to know that you were setting a new speed record.”

“We shouldn’t begrudge Grace that trip,” Jane replied. “We’ve had plenty of good things since we joined the service.”

Before winter set in, the entire fleet of new planes was operating on the transcontinental line and the sturdy old tri-motors were wheeled into the hangars where dust soon stood thick on the valiant wings.

Winter flying was to be a new experience for the girls, and they were issued trimly tailored coats, heavily lined. Fortunately the new planes were well insulated and there was a splendid electric heating system.

Extreme cold failed to slow up the schedules, the planes stopping only for snow, which swirled down from the peaks of the Rockies. Christmas eve found Jane roaring toward Chicago on the Coast to Coast, but she had planned for it and brought a tiny Christmas tree aboard at Cheyenne. There were only eight passengers aboard and she had shopped in the dime store for small gifts which would be appropriate for almost any group. She copied the names from the passenger list on gift tags and then carried the tree and her armful of presents to the front of the cabin, placing them in the two forward chairs.

The passengers were delighted, for Christmas eve away from home, even at 5,000 feet in the air and speeding along at 180 miles an hour, could be a little dreary.

Jane was gay, and her good humor cheered up her passengers. One by one she called their names and they opened their presents with evident curiosity and enthusiasm. There was a nice handkerchief for the elderly woman who was hurrying to Chicago, a tube of shaving-cream for the clean-shaven New York traveling man, and a picture book for the little girl of seven who was traveling with her mother.

Gifts for the other passengers were appropriate. Then Jane opened a basket of popcorn balls she had made at Mrs. Murphy’s and a box of delicious home-made candy. All in all, it was as gay and pleasant as Christmas eve could be away from home.

With the turn into the new year, winter descended on the Rockies in all its fury. Blizzards raged for days and the passenger schedules were practically abandoned. Whenever the storm let up, the planes, with only the pilots and the mail aboard, dashed across the continental divide, but for more than a week, Jane and her companions remained snowbound at Cheyenne.

Then reports of sickness and misery in isolated mountain towns began to creep in. Doctors were running short of supplies in villages where the flu had appeared. Unless the blizzards abated soon, there would be serious trouble.

Jane was scheduled to go out on the Coast to Coast, coming through from the west for the first time in three days. The plane was hours late and she reported at the field just as the early January night closed down. Miss Comstock was in the operations room. So was Slim Bollei, one of the veteran pilots.

“You might as well go home, Jane,” said Miss Comstock. “I phoned, but you had started for the field. It’s snowing west of here and the Coast to Coast won’t get out of Rock Springs before dawn.”

Slim Bollei, who had been looking out the window, shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re optimistic,” he grinned. “It’s snowing thicker and harder than at any time this winter.”

The weather had turned bitter cold with the wind lashing around the big hangar in a chilling overture.

When Jane started back to the city, she found that the field car which had brought her was stalled. She telephoned for a taxi, but was informed that no machine would be available for at least an hour, so she made herself comfortable in the waiting room which adjoined the office of the night operations chief.

Sue called to learn if they were going to try to get the Coast to Coast through and Jane informed her that she was marooned at the field.

“Maybe I’ll be home by morning,” she concluded hopefully.

It was half an hour later when the phone on the night chief’s desk rang. Jane was near enough to catch most of the conversation for the man on the other end of the wire was shouting.

“Sure, I know there’s trouble,” the night chief said, “but we aren’t moving any of our mail planes. It would be suicide to attempt to fly tonight.”

“What’s the matter?” asked Slim Bollei.

“It’s the governor at Laramie,” replied the night chief. “There’s been a bad outbreak of diphtheria at Lytton, a village up against the Montana line in the country that God forgot. The doctor there is out of serum and a couple of the youngsters are desperately ill. There’s plenty of serum here and the governor wants us to get a plane through.”

The night chief turned back to the telephone.

“But I tell you, governor, it can’t be done. You can’t see a hundred feet through this storm and the temperature’s down to five below zero and dropping fast.”

“Wait a minute,” cut in Slim Bollei. “Find out what’s the least possible time the serum can be used and do any good.”

“They’ve got to have it before tomorrow night,” said the night chief when the governor’s reply came to him. “Everything else that’s tried to get to Lytton has failed. It’s a plane or nothing at all.”

“Tell him we’ll get through some way,” snapped Slim. “We can’t let kids die without trying.”

“But we can’t afford to wreck one of the new ships,” protested the night chief.

“I’ll take one of the old tri-motors. Tell the governor we’ll get through.”

The flyer turned and walked toward the radio room.

“Get Chicago,” he snapped, “and have them put the operations chief on the wire.”

Less than a minute later Slim Bollei poured his story over the short wave radio and into the ears of the operations chief at Chicago. He wanted one of the old tri-motors and he got it with the chief’s blessing. After that he left on the run to route out a ground crew to get the plane ready for the flight.

Miss Comstock, who had listened gravely, turned to Jane.

“Slim can’t go alone,” she said. “A nurse will be needed there. I’m going. You take charge here.”

“But you’re needed more than I am,” protested Jane. “Let me go.”

Miss Comstock shook her head.

“There’s too much danger. Slim and I will go.”

“One nurse won’t be enough,” insisted Jane. “Think what two of us could do, think what it will mean to those youngsters.”

Miss Comstock smiled. “You win, Jane. We’ll both go.”

Outside the shadowy bulk of one of the tri-motors was being wheeled into the hangar. As soon as there was the slightest break in the storm, they would be away on their errand of mercy.

Chapter Twenty-three

White Madness

Miss Comstock, with Jane at her heels, hurried into the commissary. Supplies must be made ready and food placed aboard the tri-motor. Out in the hangar a crew worked desperately over the big plane, tuning up the motors and checking in the gas and oil.

Slim Bollei, in a sheepskin, appeared to be everywhere, orders cracking from his thin lips.

In half an hour Jane and the chief stewardess had two large hampers ready, one filled with medical supplies and bandages and the other containing food. There was more than a chance that they would be forced down and food might become very much of a necessity.

A car struggled through the storm, bringing the serum out from the city, and Slim Bollei returned to the operations office.

“Everything’s ready,” he informed the night chief. “How’s the weather?”

“Not so good. It’s still snowing hard in the mountains and the mercury is eight below now, but it won’t drop much further.”

“We’ll wait another hour and see if we can get away then,” decided Slim.

Jane and Miss Comstock sat down in the waiting room, drawing their coats around them, for at eight below zero the heating plant was functioning none too well.

The pilot came in with two fleece-lined coats.

“Better put these on,” he advised. “There won’t be much heat in the cabin and I don’t want to drop down at Lytton with a couple of frozen stewardesses on my hands.”

They accepted the coats gratefully and waited for the next reports on the storm.

It was dismal waiting there, with the wind howling around the hangar and the snow driving against the windows. At midnight it was still storming hard and they delayed their departure another hour. But the storm held on and the sky was greying before Slim Bollei decided to make the attempt.

The motors of the huge biplane roared lustily in spite of the cold, the hampers and the precious serum were placed aboard, parachutes were adjusted under their coats and the trio, the chief pilot and the two stewardesses, struggled out to the plane.

The cabin was cold and it would take some time before heat from the motors warmed it. Miss Comstock and Jane kept moving about and looking out at the storm. It was still snowing, but the fall was not as thick as it had been during the night. Reports from the west indicated the end of the blizzard was near.

Slim Bollei came back into the main cabin.

“All ready?” he asked.

Miss Comstock nodded.

“See that your chute packs don’t foul. If I signal three times on your light you’ll know we’re in trouble. Four sharp flashes will mean you’ve got to unload.”

“What about yourself?” demanded the chief stewardess.

“I’ll get along all right,” said Slim. “You get out of the cabin if I signal for a jump.”

The radio operator ran out with the final weather report and the tractor rolled the big doors away. The biplane quivered as the full strength of the wind whistled through the hangar. Then the ship rolled ahead, flame spitting from the three long exhausts. The runways had been swept clear of snow by the wind and Slim Bollei opened the throttle. In no time at all they were in the air, turning north for the 160-mile flight to Lytton.

With a quartering wind from the Rockies, the plane pitched badly and Miss Comstock and Jane fastened their safety belts. Even then they were thrown around sharply.

The cabin warmed only slightly, for the older ships had been poorly insulated. Jane beat her hand together to keep the circulation flowing. The air speed indicator hovered around the 90 mile an hour mark. At that rate it would take them nearly two hours to make the trip. The ground disappeared in the drifting haze of snow and Jane knew the pilot was flying blind. She was glad that Slim was rated one of the best flyers on the system, for he would have need of every ounce of the skill in his capable hands.

For an hour they bored through the storm. Then the middle motor started to sputter and the light flashed three times. They unfastened their safety belts and stood in the aisle.

“I’m going ahead to see what’s wrong,” said Miss Comstock.

She hurried forward and Jane listened intently to the uneven firing of the motor.

When Miss Comstock returned Jane could see that the chief stewardess was worried.

“Slim says the motor seems to be freezing up. It’s only a question of time before it will quit altogether.”

“Does that mean we’ll have to try for a landing?” asked Jane.

“He thinks he can keep going on the wing motors. He’s going to try but he said to be ready to jump if one of them stops.”

Standing in the aisle of the cold cabin, with the wind rocking the plane and the snow hiding the ground, Jane felt a chilling of her heart that was caused by something beside the sub-zero winter. The serum they carried was so desperately needed in the isolated town. Lives of children depended on the success of their trip. They must win through; the wing motors must continue their rhythmic beating.

Five minutes later the center motor quit firing altogether and the wing engines growled as the added burden came upon them. The wind seemed to have slackened slightly, but the mantle of snow still enfolded them in its fleecy whiteness.

The minutes crept on endlessly. They must be nearing the village if the pilot’s calculations were correct and the wind had not drifted them too far off their course.

Jane went to one of the windows and peered down. There was only the snow and the wind swirling it below them. Then they started down, feeling their way through the blizzard.

It was tricky work, a task that required the hand of a master pilot, for at any moment they might smash down out of the sky in a crash landing.

With nerves taut, the stewardesses watched the needle of the altimeter. The light flashed three times. It was the warning of trouble ahead.

The plane lurched upward and a resounding shock rocked the big craft. Jane caught a glimpse of something black and rugged underneath the left wing. Miss Comstock cried out in alarm.

“The landing gear’s smashed,” she shouted.

“We must have struck a rock ridge,” replied Jane.

They zoomed upward and the light flashed four times. That was the signal to jump. Jane looked at Miss Comstock. The chief stewardess shook her head.

“I’m not jumping,” she cried.

“Neither am I,” replied Jane, hurrying ahead to the pilot’s cockpit.

Slim Bollei was clinging to his controls.

“Jump,” he yelled. “We’ve washed out the landing gear.”

“We’re not jumping,” Jane told him firmly. “If the storm will only clear you may be able to skid in for a landing on the snow.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for, but I can’t stay up here forever.”

Jane remained in the forward cockpit while the pilot sought a break in the storm which would enable him to get his bearings and land. For fifteen minutes they cruised in great circles.

“The storm’s breaking away,” cried Jane.

Slim nodded hopefully. It did seem as though the snow was thinning. For another fifteen minutes the motors droned steadily and at the end of that time, the snow lessened to a fine cloud. Objects on the ground came into view. “There’s a village!” cried Jane, pointing to the right.

Slim Bollei swung the tri-motor in a gentle circle, for he lacked the power for steep climbs and banks. As the plane roared over the snowbound town, men appeared, waving their arms frantically.

“I guess that’s the place,” grinned Slim. “It’s the only town within thirty miles. Now we’ve got to find a place where we can do a little skiing.”

Beyond the village he found a field nearly half a mile long. It was sheltered in a valley with what wind still remained sweeping the length of the field.

“Get back in the cabin and hang on,” shouted the pilot. “I’m going to cut the motors and see what kind of a snowbird this is.”

“We’re starting down,” Jane told Miss Comstock when she returned to the cabin.

The plane tilted forward and the motors eased down to a whisper. The snow-covered ground leaped toward them, then seemed to pause in its mad rush as the biplane leveled out there was a sharp bump, the sound of tearing wood and fabric, and a series of jolting shocks before the tri-motor came to rest with its nose in a deep drift.

Slim Bollei staggered back into the cabin, a deep gash over his right eye.

“Get the serum out of here. The gas tanks have given way and the fuel may explode any second.”

Jane clutched the package of precious serum and threw open the cabin door. Miss Comstock came after her, tugging the hamper loaded with medical supplies while Slim carried the hamper of food. The snow was eighteen inches deep, and they floundered through it, gasping for breath. They stopped a hundred yards away from the big plane and Slim eyed it ruefully.

“That’s a good job for a salvage crew,” he said, “but I guess the line won’t kick a whole lot. That ship paid for itself many a time.”

Strangely enough, even with the fuel flowing out of the split gas tanks, the big craft did not take fire and the flyer and the stewardesses turned to greet the villagers, who were hurrying to meet them.

Chapter Twenty-four

Dangerous Passengers

Miss Comstock and Jane remained in the village two days, ministering to the needs of the stricken children and playing first assistant to the over-worked village doctor. Then another Federated Airways plane, one of the old tri-motors, dropped down on them and whisked them back to Cheyenne. From the governor came a personal note of appreciation for what they had done.

After that the winter tapered off. The storms were less severe and the flying schedules were maintained, almost without interruption. Jane and her companions found their routine duties pleasant, for no two days were alike. The weather varied, passengers changed and there was always the element of the unexpectd injecting itself into their work.

Spring arrived in a shroud of rain and fog, but with the improvement of the radio beacons, the planes were seldom delayed. The end of their first year as stewardesses neared and it was late in May when Jane, aboard the eastbound Coast to Coast Limited, swooped down on the field at Omaha.

To her surprise, the first passenger to step aboard was Miss Hardy, the supervisor of nurses at Good Samaritan. Jane was genuinely glad to see her, for it had been through Miss Hardy she had received the opportunity to join the stewardess service.

The Coast to Coast was five minutes ahead of schedule and Jane and the supervisor had a chance to visit. Miss Hardy explained that she was going to Chicago for a part of her vacation and had finally managed to make up her mind to fly.

“Perhaps I’d better say my brother convinced me,” she smiled. “I’ve been in Omaha a week. He’s a regular aviation fan and comes out to the field two or three times a week to watch the night planes come in. After he dragged me along, I began to feel that I wasn’t afraid to make the trip.”

“You’ll enjoy every minute of it,” Jane assured her, “and I’m especially delighted that your first trip is with me. Slim Bollei, one of the most skilled pilots on the line, is at the controls today. That means you’ll have a smooth, comfortable trip. Once in a while a cross wind gives the passengers a little trouble, but travel is unusually comfortable today.”

“You’ve certainly attracted national attention,” said Miss Hardy. “I’ve read of your exploits on several occasions, once when the bandit plane tried to abduct that wealthy New York woman and again when you flew to some small town with a supply of much needed serum.”

“It wasn’t done for publicity’s sake,” said Jane, “but the public and the newspapers aren’t used to stewardesses on planes and when they do anything out of the ordinary, that’s news.”

Departure time came and Jane saw that Miss Hardy was settled comfortably, in a chair next to a window, and halfway back on the right side of the plane. Miss Hardy looked older and her eyes appeared tired. She must have had a hard year with the new classes of girls at Good Samaritan, thought Jane.

They roared off the field, flashed over the muddy Missouri, and then struck out across the rolling farm land of western Iowa. The country was fresh, with the green of the pastures contrasting sharply against the black of the corn fields, in which the first spears of the new stalks were starting to peep through the top soil.

Several times on their swift flight over Iowa, Jane stopped to talk with Miss Hardy, who appeared to be enjoying the trip immensely. It was a non-stop hop from Omaha that afternoon and almost before they knew it, the graceful craft was settling down on the Chicago field.

“I’ve enjoyed the trip so much I’m going in and make my reservation for the return flight,” said Miss Hardy, as Jane helped her out of the plane.

“Then I’ll look forward to having you booked on my plane,” said Jane. “Thanks so much for your recommendation last year. It helped a great deal in getting jobs for Sue and me.”

Sue arrived the next morning on the slower Night Flyer and found that she was booked out that night for the return to Cheyenne. Business eastbound had been heavier than the westbound traffic, and as a result there were more girls at the Chicago airport than needed. Jane was assigned to fly back with Sue, resuming her regular schedule from Cheyenne on the Coast to Coast on the second day.

When Sue got her passenger list, there were only four, all of them going through to the coast.

“Looks like an easy trip,” she told Jane.

Two traveling men were the first aboard and they were followed a few minutes later by a woman of about forty, who was accompanied by a curly-haired boy of seven or eight.

Sue nudged Jane sharply.

“Those people are down as Mrs. Henry Smith and son, but that boy looks like Jackie Condon, the famous movie star.”

Jane looked again. The boy certainly resembled the lad she had seen on the screen so many times in the last two years. His salary was reported to be fabulous, his weekly pay so large the figures dazzled.

Two minutes before starting time, there was a jam at the gate and two men, well dressed, with dark, smooth faces, hurried forward, waving tickets.

“You’re just in time,” said Sue, taking their tickets and assigning them to forward chairs.

They nodded and entered the plane. Jane standing beside the landing stage saw something that alarmed her, as the second man passed. His coat slipped open just as he bent to go through the door and she caught a glimpse of a gun in a shoulder holster. Guns were not unfamiliar sights to the stewardesses, for each pilot went armed, but a gun on a passenger was a different thing.

“What were the names of those men?” she asked Sue.

“Anton Mellotti and Chris Bardo. Why?”

“The last man, Bardo, is carrying a gun.”

“We’d better tell Charlie Fischer. He’s flying us west tonight.”

They hurried ahead and caught Charlie just before he climbed into the cockpit.

“So we’ve got a gunman aboard,” said Charlie, when the girls informed him of what Jane had seen. “We’ll see about that.”

Charlie entered the cabin and tapped Bardo on the shoulder. Jane couldn’t hear what he said, but when Charlie returned he didn’t have the gun.

“He flashed a deputy sheriff’s badge and there wasn’t anything I could do,” explained Charlie. “You kids have let your imaginations run away with you. It’s time to go.”

Sue and Jane went aboard and Jane gave her friend a hand in strapping the passengers into their seats. Then they sped westward as though racing to overtake the sun.

Jane picked up a movie magazine from the pile aboard the ship. On the fifth page was a large picture of Jackie Condon. Jane looked at it sharply and then at the boy passenger. There was no mistake. Sue was right.

She looked ahead at the passengers who had arrived just before their departure. Mellotti was heavy set, with black hair and beetling brows. Bardo was taller, lithe and quick of action. His eyes, so dark a brown they were almost black, shone with animation and when he looked at Jane she felt a queer chill creep along her spine. There was something sinister in his manner.

The trip westward was uneventful and they left Omaha on time. It was near Kearney when Jane, who had been reading an Omaha paper, looked up to see one of the passengers standing in the aisle. She started ahead to tell him that it was against orders when she saw something glinting dully in his right hand. Other passengers were raising their hands.

It was Mellotti, gun in hand. Bardo, also carrying a weapon, was hurrying toward the pilot’s cockpit and Jane knew that the suspicion which had gripped her in Chicago was a reality. They were abducting the young film star.

Chapter Twenty-five

On Desperate Wings

That night was timeless for Jane. Always she would remember the stark horror of it as the plane roared through the darkness with the gunmen in control.

Mellotti remained in the cabin, guarding the passengers. Up ahead Bardo forced Charlie Fischer to swing the plane off the transcontinental airway. They were flying north. That was all Jane knew.

The hours slipped away with aching slowness. Jackie Condon and his mother remained calm and the traveling men started a card game. When the sky finally lightened, they were over a great, flat expanse of country with a chain of mountains barely visible in the west. Jane guessed they must be somewhere in Canada, just east of the Rockies.

Fifteen minutes later the plane landed and taxied across a weedy field to a lonely road that wound across the prairie. A truck, laden with barrels of gasoline, was waiting. Jane and the others were not permitted to leave the cabin while Bardo forced Charlie Fischer and his co-pilot to help fill the wing tanks. When that task was done, Bardo entered the cabin.

“Get out,” he told the traveling men.

“Hey, you can’t maroon us like this” the older one protested.

“Get out,” repeated Bardo, his black eyes snapping, and they hastened to obey.

Jane and Sue started to follow the traveling men, but Bardo’s soft voice stopped them.

“Stay here. We want you to take care of this youngster. His mother gets off here.”

Mrs. Condon’s protests were to no avail and she was shoved roughly from the plane.

Bardo disappeared up ahead and presently the motors started. Mellotti locked the door and the plane swung around for a dash across the field. Jane’s face blanched as she saw Charlie Fischer and the co-pilot standing on the ground. Bardo was flying the plane. She and Sue and Jackie Condon were alone with the kidnapers.

Bardo appeared to be a flyer of above average ability for he handled the large plane easily. They sped westward, climbing over what Jane was sure were the snow-crested Canadian Rockies. Then they dropped down the other side, and a great expanse of water loomed ahead.

The plane turned northward, skimming over the coast line. For fully an hour they went on and then Bardo brought the transport down on a long shingle of sand. It was an easy landing and Jane admired his skill.

Moored nearby was a seaplane and in a clump of trees a hundred yards from the beach were two cabins. It was an ideal hideaway and Jane knew that unless a miracle happened, there was little chance of searching parties finding them.

The girls and Jackie were ordered to the larger of the two cabins.

“You take care of the boy. It’ll be just too bad if anything happens to him,” said Bardo darkly. They had been joined by a third man, evidently the pilot of the seaplane. Like the gunmen who had captured the transport, he was dark and swarthy.

Jackie was a delightful youngster and Jane and Sue admired his calm courage.

“Of course I was scared,” he said, “but I didn’t dare let those fellows know. I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone comes along and rescues us.”

He was brave about it, but Jane knew that no one was going to come along and rescue them. They would be held until Jackie’s mother paid the ransom demand or––. But Jane couldn’t think of the other possibility and she set her mind to working on some plan of escape.

There was plenty of food in the cabin and the girls and Jackie were given the freedom of the beach. That first night Jane couldn’t sleep much, turning and tossing as she tried to evolve some plan of escape. To attempt to flee in the transport was impossible for she didn’t know the first thing about piloting one of the big ships. But the seaplane. That was different. Of course she had never flown one, but it looked like a common biplane only instead of wheels it had pontoons. Certainly the operation must be the same.

Jane was up with the dawn. The seaplane was still moored a few yards from the beach, the canvas cover shielding the motor.

Throughout the day she waited, hoping the men might leave the beach for a few minutes, but her hopes were unavailing. Night came and they were locked in the cabin.

When she was sure that no one was within earshot, Jane told Sue and Jackie what she hoped to do.

“If I can get out to the seaplane and get it started I’m sure we’ll be able to get away,” she whispered, “but first we’ve got to get out of the cabin.”

They tried the windows, one by one, and the third appeared loose. Working quietly with a kitchen knife they finally slid the window aside.

The darkness was heavy and Jane slipped through the window first. Jackie was second and finally Sue. The lights were out in the other cabin and they moved swiftly down to the beach. Little waves lapped the sand.

“Do you think the water’s deep?” Sue whispered.

“I’ve got to chance it,” replied Jane. “The rowboat’s padlocked. Here goes.”

She plunged in boldly. The bottom fell away gradually and the water was only a little more than waist deep when she reached the pontoons and pulled herself aboard.

Turning, she called softly to Sue.

“Wade out with Jackie. It isn’t deep.”

A minute later Sue, holding Jackie in her arms, was beside the seaplane and Jane helped them aboard.

“Get into the forward cockpit,” she said. “I’m going to cast off the mooring line.”

Once free of the line which held it, the seaplane started drifting along parallel with the beach. Jane scrambled back to the pilot’s cockpit after pulling the canvas off the motor. Guardedly she turned on the light over the dash. Some of the instruments were unfamiliar, but it was a standard control plane. Her heart leaped for she knew she would be able to fly it.

“What are we going to do now?” asked Sue.

“Wait for dawn.”

“But that will be hours.”

“We can’t risk a takeoff in the night,” replied Jane. “Make yourselves as comfortable as you can. At least we’re on our way.”

Through the night they drifted, the current keeping them just offshore. With the first light, Jane saw they were at least three miles from the cabins. In a few more minutes their absence would be discovered.

“Wake up,” she told Sue and Jackie. “We’re starting home.”

Jane primed the motor and snapped the starter switch. The motor failed to catch and she primed it again, this time successfully. The trim plane shook as the propeller spun in the early morning light.

In order to take off into the wind, Jane was forced to turn the plane toward the cabin. Then she opened the throttle, gritted her teeth and held the stick hard. The seaplane leaped forward, skimming the tiny waves. It shook itself free and Jane knew they were a step nearer home.

They passed close enough to the beach to see Bardo and his two fellow kidnapers run from the cabin. Then Jane banked the seaplane and sped southward. Where they were headed she could only guess, but they were one their way.

Sue yelled and pointed back. Jane turned. The kidnapers were getting the transport ready for flight, but it would be at least another five minutes before they could get into the air.

They rounded a rocky headland and Jane dropped the seaplane low, barely skimming the water. They would be harder to follow down low.

The top speed of the seaplane was 110 an hour and Jane knew that the transport, capable of almost double that, would soon be upon them. They must find shelter soon.

Fifteen minutes later the transport, coming low and fast, roared into view. Not more than five minutes was between the planes now and still no village had been sighted. The distance between the planes was vanishing like magic when Jane caught sight of a trail of smoke out to sea. It was a desperate chance but worth it.

Banking the seaplane sharply, she sped away from the coast with the transport diving at an angle to cut her off. It was going to be close, but Jane pushed the throttle wide open and somehow the little craft found an added ten miles an hour.

The outlines of the ship appeared. It was low and rakish and painted grey, but whatever it was, it looked like a haven. A cry from Sue drew Jane’s attention from the pursuing plane.

“The coast guard!” shouted Sue and Jane’s heart leaped. She dove for the ship, waving frantically. Above her the transport circled, afraid to follow.

Jane, too elated to worry about the hazard of landing the seaplane, made an almost perfect descent and taxied alongside the coast guard vessel, which had been brought to a halt. Officers and men lined the rail for it was seldom that two girls and a boy appeared in a seaplane.

Jane stood up and cupped her hands.

“Can you take us aboard? We’ve got Jackie Condon, the missing film star.”

“You’ve what?” roared the amazed commander.

Jane repeated her message and a boat was dropped by the destroyer. It came alongside the seaplane handsomely, took the mooring line, and towed the plane up to the destroyer. Jane went aboard and told her story to the astounded commander. The radio cracked out the good news that a whole nation had been waiting to hear. Then followed directions intended to bring the apprehension of Bardo and his band of kidnapers.

The destroyer, en route to Alaska, turned about and with funnels trailing heavy ribbons of oily smoke, sped toward Seattle under forced draft. Jane and Sue looked over the rail at the mountainous coast line of British Columbia. In less than a week, they would be back on the transcontinental, settling into their routine work.

“Know what day this is?” asked Jane.

“Our first anniversary,” smiled Sue. “We joined the airways just a year ago. Think how much has happened?”

“Just think how much more can happen in the coming year,” replied Jane, wondering vaguely what new adventure might be ahead of them.

THE END