Part 2

“Lord, it was close! I wanted to get in, get a perfect shot for the camera. We hit a bump--and I tried to zoom. But we crashed before she nosed up. All three ships got it. We’ll stand the loss, of course--but--”

He stopped. He was too shaken to go on. The girl’s eyes were on Russ Healy, who was frowning.

“I’m sorry!” she said simply. “No use saying what I think--you _know_. Man--that battered crate is--” She stopped, groped for a word, found it--“wonderful! Can she fly? I’m here--to tell you _she can_!”

* * * * *

Russ smiled, but he didn’t say much. Later, while he was patching up the fuselage of the Old Lady, I caught him alone. It had been a tight jam for all of us. Two planes gone--and three of us using ’chutes. No pictures, of course. All smashed--all that had been taken. But if it hadn’t been for Russ--and the Old Lady-- Well, Joan West wouldn’t laugh _that_ way again at a battered plane.

I told Russ that, and then I asked a question. It had been worrying me a bit.

“Supposing things had gone right, Russ--what were you figuring on doing with the girl? How were you going to prove--”

Russ Healy grinned. “Mac,” he said slowly, “I wasn’t going to do a thing. What in hell _could_ I do? That kid had nerve.”

I chuckled. Russ Healy throwing a bluff! It was almost funny.

“She had nerve,” he repeated grimly, “and believe me, Mac, that’s what you’ve got to have--when it comes to picture stuff!”

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the March, 1928 issue of _Blue Book_ magazine.]