CHAPTER XII

Jimmy Lands a Job for Johnnie

When Jimmy had finished writing his story, after a fast trip back to his office, where he arrived well ahead of his deadline, he reported to the managing editor.

“Well, I see you got here in time anyway, Jimmy,” smiled that official. “Your photographs are fine, but they are a little small. Why didn’t you use your regular news camera?”

“I didn’t take the pictures, Mr. Johnson. Johnnie Lee took them. He had to use his own camera because I was miles away, at Easton. He got the story, too, and he got the details in fine shape. If it hadn’t been for Johnnie, I guess I’d still be at the mine.”

“This sounds interesting. How did your young friend get into the affair, anyway? Tell me about it.”

“There isn’t much to tell, Mr. Johnson. When I landed at Easton, and didn’t see Handley anywhere, I suspected I might have to wait some time for him, so I called Johnnie up at his home. By good luck he was right at hand. He lives within two miles of the wrecked mine. I asked him to see what he could do for me. He skipped right over in his car, got the photographs, rounded up the only man who escaped from the mine on his own feet, and had the whole story in hand when I reached there. He introduced me to this survivor, who is a foreman in the mine, and so was able to give us such a comprehensive description of the place. Then Johnnie took us both back to the mine, so I could see the place and the crowds for myself. The foreman got me an interview with the mine superintendent. And by the way, the superintendent had just refused to talk to Rand.”

“Rand, eh? So he’s working on this story.” The managing editor’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. He looked at Jimmy intently. “You don’t suppose, Jimmy, that Rand——”

“Yes, sir, I _do_ suppose so,” interrupted Jimmy. “I’d be willing to bet my last nickel that it was Rand who tricked me into landing at Easton. You know the paper he works for has a plane at the same field where we keep ours. I didn’t see Rand at the field before I took off, but I believe he was there. And I believe that in some way he got wind of the fact that you had ordered me to Shenandoah. I have no proof of that, and I don’t see how I can get proof. He might easily have picked up the fact from employees about the field. My mechanic knew that you wanted me to make the trip. He told me so the instant I got in from my flight out to sea. He might have mentioned the matter to other people about the field. Of course everybody soon knew about the disaster, and it was a safe bet that I would have to fly to the scene. Rand would know that.”

“Yes, or some one may have tapped our wire. Or some one may be paying mechanics at the field to keep tabs on you. I know of at least one newspaper in this town that wouldn’t be above such work. You just watch yourself, Jimmy. Keep your eyes and ears open and see if you can’t find out more about this matter. Everything turned out well this time, but you won’t always have a Johnnie Lee on the spot to pull you out of a hole.”

“That’s what he did, Mr. Johnson. Johnnie pulled me out of a great big hole. I might have rounded up the story after I got there, but I could not possibly have gotten the pictures also. It grew dark soon after I reached the mine. Johnnie made a fine job of it. I believe you will say so, too, when you read his story.”

Just then a copy boy thrust some proofs into Mr. Johnson’s hands.

“Here it is,” said the managing editor. “Now we’ll see what your story is like.”

“It’s really Johnnie’s story, Mr. Johnson,” protested Jimmy. “Please read it and see if you don’t think Johnnie has shown enough ability now to start in as a cub.”

Mr. Johnson smiled. “What a fine world it would be, Jimmy,” he said, “if we all had such loyal friends as Johnnie Lee has in you.”

Then he began to read, and the expression on his face showed well enough that he was interested. When he had finished, he laid down the proofs. “It’s a good story, Jimmy,” he said. “Then does Johnnie get his job?” demanded Jimmy.

“You are nothing if not an ardent partisan, Jimmy. I hadn’t any idea of employing Johnnie; but he has been so useful to us that if he wants to come on here and start in as a cub, at the lowest salary we pay cubs, we’ll give him a chance. I somehow have a feeling that he has good stuff in him.”

“Indeed he has, Mr. Johnson. You’ll never be sorry you hired him. When do you want him to report for work?”

“There’s no hurry, Jimmy. I’ll drop him a line in a few days. I want him to understand exactly the terms on which he comes and the amount of pay he will receive while he is learning his job.”

“Thank you ever so much, Mr. Johnson. I’ll do all I can to help him make good.” And Jimmy walked out of the managing editor’s office as happy as a lark. Altogether, it had been a mighty good day for Jimmy.

“It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good,” he thought. “If Rand hadn’t pulled me down at Easton, Johnnie would never have gotten this job. It just seems to me as though most of the things that look like difficulties when they occur are really opportunities. It’s been that way with me more than once. The main thing is to keep a stiff upper lip, use your head, and just keep on going. I’ll try to remember that the next time I get in a pinch.”

Jimmy went back to his ship, to see that she was put in shape for instant use again. He was very happy. Not only had he made good again for himself, but he had helped his old friend. He had secured for him the opening that Johnnie so much desired. He wanted to write to Johnnie and tell him about the situation, but he decided not to do it. “Mr. Johnson evidently prefers to write to him himself,” thought Jimmy. “I don’t want to do anything that could possibly gum things up.” So he restrained himself.

It wasn’t long, however, before Jimmy had abundant opportunity to tell Johnnie all about the matter. A new and important airport was to be opened in central Pennsylvania. Celebrated fliers by the dozens were to be on hand. An attractive program of races and flying stunts had been arranged, and the affair had been given great publicity. Mr. Johnson decided to send a man to cover the story. Quite naturally, he selected Jimmy.

“Go up there and get us a good story, Jimmy,” he said. “If all the fliers are present who are advertised to be there, this will be a very interesting gathering. And by the way, I suppose you will fly out along the Air Mail route. If you do, stop at Ringtown and take Johnnie Lee along with you. I wrote him two days ago, offering him a job, and I just received his reply. He is eager to come. Pick him up and take him to the airport opening with you. I’ll give you credentials for him. He can start right in with you. And remember, I expect you to help him learn his job.”

“Thank you, Mr. Johnson,” replied Jimmy. “I’ll do my very best to help Johnnie. You won’t be sorry you hired him. I’ll pick him up as I fly out, and bring him back to the city with me.”

“That’s exactly what I wish,” replied the managing editor.

So it happened that when Jimmy flew to the air races, he stopped at Ringtown and picked up his old friend. Then the two flew on to the airport.

The aviation meeting was all it had been advertised to be. Scores of pilots were present, many of them famous veterans of the air. The edge of the flying field was lined for hundreds of yards with ships that were crowded so close together their wing tips almost touched. There were flying machines of almost every known variety. Tiny Moth planes stood wing to wing with huge tri-motored cabin ships that would hold a dozen passengers each. There were monoplanes and biplanes, and even some gliders were to be seen. The Army and the Navy were represented by several fliers each. The planes of the latter instantly caught the eye as they stood on the line in military formation, noticeable among all other planes for their blazing insignia on their wing surfaces. It was a sight to delight a pilot’s heart.

Yet the ground show was nothing compared to the exhibition in the air. Aloft there was a constant stream of ships. Some were arriving, some departing, some were carrying passengers at so much a ride, some were stunting, and others were merely aloft for the pleasure of it. Then came races. The air was cleared of all other fliers, and the speedsters had their innings. Back and forth they darted along a course many miles long, one end of which was in the centre of the new airport. Around the striped pylon they roared, some darting upward on the turn, others roaring around on level keel. And so steeply were the ships banked that each seemed fairly to be standing on one wing as it whirled around the pylon. It was a stirring sight.

But the performance that stopped every heart and made every onlooker hold his breath was the parachute jumps. Jimmy and Johnnie had gone aloft again by the time the jumping started. Ever since Jimmy had received the piece of Warren Long’s parachute, he had felt a particular interest in parachute jumps. He believed he could see the jumps better if he were in the air, about on the level with the jumpers, than he could see them if he were on the ground. Likewise, he wanted to get some photographs of the jumpers, taken from aloft. So he and Johnnie had gone aloft once more.

They flew along lazily, to the rear of the ship that held the jumpers. And they were a little lower than this ship. Jimmy wanted to see just how the parachutes worked. He had selected an excellent viewpoint; for when the first jumper walked out on a wing of the ship and calmly dropped toward the earth, Jimmy could see his every movement. Down dropped the man, straight as a plummet, hardly moving his body or limbs, until he was well below the plane. Then Jimmy saw him reach for the rip-cord, grasp the metal ring, and give it a sharp jerk. With an instant response the covers of the parachute pack snapped open, the folds of the white silk “umbrella” were caught by the wind, ballooning out and opening full with a crack that could be heard all over the huge airport. The downward flight of the jumper was checked. With a jerk he spun upright, then settled toward the earth under his wide-spreading canopy. He landed safely, amid great applause. Johnnie got several fine snaps with the camera while the jump was taking place.

Another jumper followed. This one elected to come down awhirling. He stepped off backward, and went spinning toward the earth like a ball. When he pulled his rip-cord, his parachute pulled him upright with a jerk that, as Jimmy phrased it, must have splashed his liver against his backbone like a butcher throwing a slab of beef on the block. But the jumper landed safe and sound and appeared none the worse for his experience.

The best performance—at least the one that most attracted the crowd—had been reserved for the last. A woman was to do some stunts and then put on a parachute and jump. She was a slender young flier, whom the _Morning Press_ men had noticed at the hangar. She was clad in a light flying suit, and her short hair was bound tight with a broad red ribbon wound about her brow.

When she came out on the wing of the plane, preparatory to giving her exhibition, Jimmy could feel his pulse quicken perceptibly. The sight of men about to risk their lives had not stirred him so much. They were fliers, like himself, and every pilot expected that some day he might have to make the trip to the ground in a parachute. But to see a young woman risking her life, merely to make a show for a curious multitude, stirred Jimmy as it did others. He knew well enough that the crowd on the ground was standing in breathless suspense. He flew his plane as near to the jumper’s ship as he dared, so Johnnie could get some close-up snapshots.

Jimmy watched the woman like a hawk. He noticed her every movement. She made her way along the wing of the plane. A rope ladder had been fastened to a strut. This the woman untied and lowered. Then she swung over the edge of the wing and made her way down the rope ladder. She had no parachute. Should she lose her grip or be jolted from the ladder she would fall straight to earth and be crushed. Jimmy almost shuddered as he looked at her. It seemed terrible to him that any one should risk life in this way. He could hardly bear to watch her. Yet he had come aloft to see the performance and he steeled himself to watch. He kept his plane moving at the same rate as the exhibition ship but at a lower level.

Down the rope ladder came the young woman. This swung and swayed uncertainly in the breeze. At the bottom of the ladder was a strong metal rung or crossbar. It helped to keep the ladder from blowing backward too far. When the performer came to this metal bar she did not pause but grasped it with both hands and lowered her body into space. There she dangled, a thousand feet in air, with nothing between her and an awful death but her own good grip. Jimmy could feel chills of horror running up and down his spine. He prayed that the air would stay calm. He could hardly bear to look at the woman when she released one hand from the bar and swung for a moment by a single arm. It was too much for Jimmy. He looked away.

When he brought his glance back to the woman she had altered her position. Now she was hanging by her knees, her head down, as the ship flew along. For several minutes she did acrobatic stunts at the end of the swaying ladder. And during all that time Jimmy was in a tremble. But the young woman was as steady as Gibraltar. She lost neither her nerve nor her grip. Presently she climbed back up the ladder, rolled and fastened it to the strut, and then climbed to the upper wing, where she braced herself and stood upright with nothing whatever to hold to, while the ship shot through the air at seventy miles an hour.

Again Jimmy was in a fever of fear. If she slipped, if the plane plunged and threw her off her balance, if the air grew bumpy and tumbled the ship about, there could be but one end to the exhibition. The young woman would be thrown off her balance and blown out into space. Once more Jimmy turned his look away. He could not bear to look at her.

When he glanced again at the ship he was following he saw something that electrified him, that shocked him into instant activity. From the crankcase of the ship ahead of him flames were leaping.

Quick as thought Jimmy turned to his companion. “Get the tie rope,” he shouted, indicating with a sweep of his arm where he kept the rope with which he tied his plane down when he had to leave it out over night.

Johnnie had the long, strong rope out in no time. He knotted one end of it fast in the cabin, so it could not get away from him. Meantime Jimmy opened his throttle and his ship darted upward and to one side. In a moment it was almost wing and wing with the exhibition ship.

The other pilot glanced out and saw Jimmy’s plane. Johnnie leaned from a cabin window and began making vigorous gestures. He pointed to the woman on the upper wing of the exhibition plane. She was utterly unconscious that anything was wrong. Then Johnnie held up his rope and made a gesture to indicate that he would try to pick up the woman on the plane wing. For a moment the pilot looked at Johnnie as though he did not comprehend. It came to Johnnie that the pilot did not yet know his ship was afire. The flames were underneath the engine, and he had not yet noticed them. Violently Johnnie gestured toward the crankcase. The pilot got partly to his feet and peered over the edge of his plane. Instantly he saw what was wrong. Johnnie once more held up his rope and pointed to the woman on the upper wing. The pilot nodded agreement.

“He understands,” shouted Johnnie.

With a suddenness that almost threw Johnnie off his feet, Jimmy banked his plane and circled. In a moment he was once more to the rear of the exhibition plane, but now he was above it. The ship was flying slowly, on level keel. Very carefully, like a refueling plane about to fuel another ship, Jimmy flew his craft over and a trifle ahead of the other plane. Johnnie was watching carefully.

“There!” he shouted. “You’re just right. Slow her up a bit.”

Jimmy followed instructions. In a moment he was keeping pace with the other ship, but was slightly in advance of it. Johnnie leaned through the open window and started to lower the rope. The wind blew it almost straight back. He drew the rope in and fastened the starter handle to it with a loose knot. Then he leaned from the window once more and carefully but swiftly lowered the rope.

Meantime the young woman on the wing below him had been watching with curious interest. She did not understand what was afoot. It was well she did not. She might have lost her nerve. She caught the rope as it came level with her and held it uncertainly, meantime looking up at Johnnie questioningly. Johnnie saw that she did not comprehend the situation. He pointed toward the blazing crankcase. The girl held fast to his rope and took a step toward the leading edge of the plane wing. The moment she saw the flames she shrank back in evident terror, and Johnnie’s heart almost stood still with fear lest she fall from the plane wing. But she recovered her nerve in an instant. Grasping the starter handle, she quickly untied it and laid it down on the wing. That one act told Johnnie that she had a complete grip on herself. Otherwise she might thoughtlessly have tossed it into the air. In a second the girl had the rope around her body, just below her arms. She tied it tight, with knot after knot. Then she looked up and nodded.

Johnnie braced himself and began to haul on the rope. A foot at a time he dragged the girl upward, while she clung with both hands to the life line. It was fortunate she was light in weight. Johnnie was working at a disadvantage. He could not get all his muscles into play. Yet slowly he lifted the girl upward until she could grasp the window-frame. Then Johnnie threw open the cabin door, which was immediately beside the window, and reached out and grasped the girl. At the same time she slid her foot within the cabin of the plane and pulled herself, with Johnnie’s help, after it. Even above the roar of both motors Johnnie could hear the tremendous cheer that came up from the ground. Johnnie slammed the door shut and fastened it. Then he turned to the girl. She had slumped to the floor, as pale as death. But it was merely the reaction after her moment of peril.

Meantime, Jimmy opened his throttle, pulled back on his stick, and shot his plane upward for hundreds of feet. By the time he leveled off, the pilot below him, who had seen a part of the rescue, had acted to save his own life. The fire had spread rapidly. Flames were beginning to shoot into the cockpit. Adjusting the stabilizer of his ship so that she was slightly nose heavy, the pilot headed his plane toward a near-by woods. Then he stepped over the side, and a moment later was floating safely downward under his open parachute. He landed near the flying field, without a scratch.

Seeing the pilot safe and the air clear, for the burning plane soon crashed in the woods, Jimmy swooped down and landed in the middle of the flying field. His plane rolled rapidly toward the judge’s stand and he taxied it close to the railing that kept the crowd from the field. A doctor and several officials rushed out to the ship to look after the young woman. She was still in a state of collapse. Carefully they assisted her to the hangar and gave her the necessary attention.

Jimmy was glad enough to have her off his hands. He was waiting for his engine to cool a bit before cutting the switch. Then he intended to hurry to the telegraph station and send off a wire. His whole attention was now centered on the story he must send.

What was his astonishment, then, when the crowd broke through the barriers and a veritable mob came charging toward him as he stepped from his ship. For a second Jimmy was dumbfounded. He did not understand what was happening. But it did not take him very long to learn. As he and Johnnie stepped clear of the ship the crowd thundered up. A hundred hands were thrust out at them. A babel of voices arose in shouted greetings. Men and women swarmed about them, patting them on their backs, slapping their shoulders, and reaching for their hands. Then somebody caught them both from behind, eager hands lifted them bodily, and in another moment they were riding from the field on the shoulders of sturdy men, while the crowd yelled itself hoarse.