Part 2

Dan tried to keep a grip on himself but he wanted to get up and run. The fellows were all shouting at him, calling him Desperate Dan. In an hour the name had swept the school.

Dan tried to grin, tried to wisecrack. But it was tough going. The afternoon seemed never-ending.

Murph walked home with Dan. “Some day I’m going to blacken Jerry’s eyes,” he said.

“I can take it, Murph,” Dan said. “Don’t worry.”

“You were swell,” Murph said. “They won’t keep it up if they think it’s rolling off your back.”

But they did keep it up--the next day and the next. Then, on the third day, the kidding suddenly dropped off.

Dan caught Jerry talking quietly to Frenchy and some of the gang. He wondered if they were up to something else.

After school as Dan came down the steps he saw Jerry sitting in his roadster. Jerry said, “Hi, Dan. How about a lift?”

Dan said, “Thanks. I think I’ll walk.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Jerry said. “I’m sorry about that kidding.”

Dan looked at him. “You are?”

“Sure,” Jerry said. “Come on. Hop in.”

Dan thought, “Jerry isn’t fooling me. He’s up to something. But I might as well bluff it through.” He got in the car.

Jerry put the roadster in gear and rolled it down the drive. “Let’s be friends, Dan,” he said. “I’m driving out to the airport. Want to come?”

Dan said, “Just drop me off at home.”

Jerry laughed. “Still afraid, huh?”

“I’ve never been afraid of you,” Dan said. “I’ll go.”

* * * * *

When they got to the air field Dan saw a bunch of cars. And Jerry’s gang was grouped around the Comet.

Jerry pulled the roadster to a stop and got out. “I’m taking Desperate Dan up for his first hop,” he said.

Dan started. “No, you’re not.”

Jerry spread his hands expressively. “See, gang. I told you he was yellow. He’s hot stuff in that toy ship but when it comes to the real thing....”

Frenchy said, “Yeah. Didn’t I say he was afraid to really fly,” and snickered.

It was that snicker that got Dan. He looked around at the crowd. The fellows were watching him, waiting for his answer.

Dan took a deep breath. “All right, Jerry,” he said quietly. “I’ll go.”

Jerry’s smirk widened. “Now you’re talking ... Okay, Frenchy, drag out the chutes. Put one on Desperate Dan.”

Dan had climbed from the car. “Chutes? What’d we need chutes for?”

Jerry looked amazed. “Don’t tell me that an expert like you doesn’t know that parachutes must be worn for acrobatic maneuvers,” he said and winked at the gang.

“You mean you’re going to stunt?” Dan said. “That’s dangerous. You haven’t had enough experience.” Right after the words left his lips Dan knew that it was exactly the wrong thing to say.

Jerry’s face darkened. “I’ll show you if I’ve had enough experience. Unless you’re scared and want to back out.”

Dan said, “I told you I’d go, didn’t I?”

* * * * *

But when he was climbing into the Comet’s upholstered cabin, Dan thought, “You’re a fool. Jerry’s going to grandstand before the gang and try to frighten the daylights out of me. He’s liable to crash.”

But it was too late to change his mind now. Jerry was in the pilot’s seat beside him.

Dan shifted the webbed chute harness that criss-crossed his body and tried to look composed. But he was far from that.

Jerry had worked the starter. The engine caught. The prop whirled. He jazzed the throttle, then eased it back. “Fasten your belt,” he said curtly. “You’ll need it.”

Dan obeyed. He felt the Comet vibrating under him. The drumming of the engine was in his ears. His uneasiness increased.

Jerry released the wheel brakes. As the ship moved forward, Dan saw a car turn in from the road and come to a fast stop. Two figures jumped from it and started running toward the plane. The first was Murph. And that tall man behind him was--Dan’s father!

Dan gasped. How had his dad ever come out here? Murph must’ve heard about Jerry’s scheme and told Dan’s father. And now they were trying to stop the take-off.

But there was no stopping. Jerry had seen them and didn’t wait. Instead, he rammed the throttle wide. The Comet lunged ahead.

Every muscle in Dan’s body was taut as the monoplane’s speed increased. He tried to relax, tried to reason with himself. He had to see this thing through now--no matter what Jerry did.

He saw the stick go forward. He felt the tail lift. The airspeed needle was crawling up. The sea of grass whipped past. Then, Jerry brought the stick slowly back.

There were no bumps. Just even sailing. Dan realized they’d taken off.

The Comet climbed slowly and gradually Dan began to feel better. He looked down and thrilled at the sight of the earth dropping away. He was actually flying. This was what he’d imagined it’d be.

Jerry held the Comet’s cowled nose high. The altimeter showed one thousand as the minutes passed. Two thousand. Three.

Jerry levelled off and looked at Dan. “How do you like it?” he asked. The soundproof packing around the firewall shut out the noise of the engine.

Dan grinned. “It’s swell,” he said and meant it.

Jerry’s eyes narrowed. “Well, get a load of this.”

He kicked the rudder, threw the stick and whipped the ship around in a steep bank. Dan felt himself thrown violently against his belt. Before he could catch his breath, the Comet dropped its nose and dived, engine howling.

Dan clutched at the edge of his seat. The monoplane was standing on her nose. The earth was rushing up.

Dan hung on tightly. The thrill he’d felt at the take-off was gone. He was afraid. Not afraid of flying but afraid of Jerry’s overconfidence. He’d try anything just to show off. He might try something that he couldn’t finish.

The Comet was plummeting for the airport. Dan saw the antlike figures down there. They grew larger by the second. One of them was his dad. What was he thinking? What would he do when they landed? If they landed....

Dan shot an agonized glance at Jerry. Had he already lost control?

Jerry looked back and laughed. He yelled, “We’re going to crash!”

Dan knew he was kidding, that he was just trying to frighten him. But unless he pulled out of the dive pretty soon they would crash.

And they almost did. Jerry held the plunging ship in its wild descent until it was within four hundred feet of the field. Then, he pulled the stick back. The Comet flattened out and raced on across the country.

* * * * *

Dan leaned back weakly. They’d come out of that okay. But would they be as lucky the next time? Jerry’s handling of the ship was clumsy. He wasn’t good enough to stunt.

Dan wanted to reason with him. But he knew that would only spur Jerry on.

The Comet zoomed again. Jerry shouted, “That’s just a taste of what you’re going to get, wise guy.”

Then, without warning, he kicked the ship over in a barrel roll.

Dan’s head was snapped back. He hung tightly to his safety belt. The plane whirled completely over once. It had started on another revolution before Jerry could check it.

He fought the controls. The Comet staggered, fell off ponderously on one wing, side slipped. Dan saw a trace of fear creep across Jerry’s face.

But again he was lucky. The ship’s nose fell. She dived and Jerry tugged her into level flight.

That’d be all, Dan thought. Jerry’s had enough.

But that wasn’t all. Jerry’s confidence had come back. He turned to Dan and laughed. “Now I’ll show you what a loop looks like,” he said.

A loop! Dan’s body went numb. He said impulsively, “Don’t try it, Jerry. You almost lost control in that roll. Don’t try a loop ... We’ve had enough. Let’s land.”

He wasn’t calling quits. He was using his head. For Jerry to try any more stunting was suicide.

But Jerry was forcing the Comet into a climb. He said. “I knew you were yellow. I’m not through with you yet.”

Dan didn’t say anything more. He looked down at the earth so far below. The countryside was a checkered map. There was the airport, the size of a postage stamp. He thought of his dad down there. His eyes would be upturned.

The monoplane was at six thousand feet now. Jerry said, “Get ready ... Here we go.”

The ship dived, dived until the wind was screaming. Dan dug his nails into the palms of his hands. He tried to close his eyes. He couldn’t.

The stick was coming back. The Comet was zooming up, up, her nose high to the blue heavens. Dan saw the horizon whip past, the sky flash away, the earth appear under his head.

They were upside down, at the top of the loop.

But the Comet didn’t complete the loop. She wallowed at the top, inverted. She lost flying speed. She seemed to hang for an indefinite space of time. Then, with a scream, she slipped off on her right wing.

She plunged heavily, crazily. Jerry clung to the stick, holding it back. In that awful moment Dan saw a spasm of fear sweep across Jerry’s face.

Then the wings whipped over--and the monoplane went into a tight spin!

The color drained from Dan’s cheeks. The earth was whirling like a top. Jerry had both hands on the stick. His face had gone gray. His eyes were wide.

The altimeter was dropping fast. The earth tore up.

Dan shouted, “Push the stick forward! Forward!”

But Jerry was past hearing. He was frantically tugging at the stick, working the rudder pedals. The ship held to its tight spin.

If Jerry didn’t get control, they’d crash. This was no kidding now.

Then, Dan saw Jerry’s hands leave the controls, snatch at the buckle of his safety belt. The belt parted. Jerry grabbed the handle of the left cabin door. He forced it open.

“Jump!” he yelled at Dan. “We’re goners! Jump!”

He didn’t wait to see if Dan heard. He dived through the open door.

And Dan was left alone.

* * * * *

Dan’s heart stopped. Jerry had jumped!

Quickly, Dan unfastened his belt, gripped the handle of the door beside him. His eyes whipped from the altimeter to the ground tearing up. No! He couldn’t jump. There wasn’t time. He’d never make it. He’d never get out of that door with his crooked leg.

But what would he do? The ship was now plummeting down at top speed. He fought to hold himself in the seat.

There was only one thing to do--and Dan did it.

He forced himself across to the empty pilot’s seat, tugged the belt around his stomach. His feet found the rudder pedals. His hands grabbed the control stick.

The altimeter! When he’d last seen it there’d been twelve thousand feet. Now it showed nine hundred!

He forced his panic back. You know how to fly. You’ve flown the Night Hawk. You’ve brought her out of spins. This is the Night Hawk!

The Night Hawk. Yes. That was it. He was in the barn loft. He was seated on that old kitchen chair. The instruments on the board ahead were cardboard discs. The propeller was made of tin.

Remember? Stick forward. Close the throttle. That’s right. Full opposite rudder. Gently.

Eight hundred feet ... seven ... Don’t look at the altimeter. Don’t look at the closeness of the whirling world down there. Don’t think of your dad watching. You’re going to crash unless you keep cool.

Dan forced himself to obey the commands of his mind. His hands and feet reacted. The noise of the engine had died but the screaming of the wind had increased. The spin was slowing. She was coming out. But was there time?

Look! The altimeter. Six hundred feet!

The Comet’s wings revolved again ... once more--then held steady.

Dan was out of the spin!

But he was still diving! Five hundred feet from the ground.

Use your head now. Seconds count. Pull the stick back slowly. Not too fast. A sharp movement might fold the wings.

The nose is coming up ... But you’re almost on the ground. Back some more.

Dan caught a blurred impression of the airport with its cars, with people standing in a knot. And far away he saw a white billowing shape. Jerry in his chute, landing safely.

The Comet’s cowled nose came higher. Then, she was level. She was out of the dive--less than a hundred feet up.

Dan clung to the controls. He was past thinking; past fear. Now could he land her? Why not? Hadn’t he brought the Night Hawk down time after time?

A feeling of triumph began to creep over him, replacing the panic. He realized suddenly that he was really flying.

Cautiously he nudged the monoplane around in a flat turn until he was heading back for the airport. The Comet was gliding lower. Keep your eyes to the right of the nose. Judge distance.

You’re almost at the landing field. Trees ahead--a fence. Over the boundary of the airport. Lower now. Forty feet ... thirty ... twenty. Stick back slowly. Flatten out.

You’re almost down. Stick back more. Get the tail down. Faster ... faster ... You’re almost on the ground.

Suddenly Dan felt a jarring shock. The ship bounced, hit hard again. It was down and rolling across the uneven field.

He had landed!

* * * * *

Then, the gang of boys were around Dan. They pulled him from the cabin, thumped him on the back. They all seemed to talk at once.

“I saw it! I saw it! That guy Jerry bailed out and left ya cold,” said one.

“Jerry Blackwell--the hero of the air. Huh! A yellow bum I call him!” snorted a thin blond youth.

“Let’s run him outa town!” they chorused.

Jerry had gathered up his chute and was walking over to his car. He was trying to act as though nothing had happened; but he would glance over his shoulder at Dan and the gang every time he would take three or four steps.

“Get the lousy bum!” someone shouted.

At these words Jerry broke into a run for his car. He clambered in and was away in a cloud of dust before any of the gang had taken more than a step.

“I always knew he was yellow,” came the muffled remark from one of the boys.

Dan saw Murph and then he saw his dad. He tried to speak to his father but he couldn’t get the words out. His dad had a queer expression on his face. He took Dan roughly by the arm.

Dan said, “I couldn’t help but go up, Dad. Don’t be mad.”

His dad looked at him in silence. Then he put his arm around him. His voice was husky when he spoke. “I’m not mad, son ... I’m proud ... I saw you get out of that spin.”

Later when they were in the car his father said, “I read the account in the school paper. I went to see the Night Hawk ... I didn’t know you were that interested in flying.”

“But Dad, I told you. And you said....”

His father looked straight ahead. “Dan,” he said. “You were hurt in an accident. And your mother was killed. It was an airplane accident. I was piloting.”

“You....” Dan stopped.

“Yes. I swore I’d have nothing to do with aviation after that ... But ... you’ve shown that it’s in your blood. What was it you wanted to do?”

“Get an amateur license,” Dan said. “And then some ground job.”

His dad said, “I’m going to give you the best aviation training there is. And then, if you like, I’ll buy you a plane of your own--a real Night Hawk!”

[Transcriber’s note: This story appeared in the December 1939 issue of _Air Adventures_ magazine.]