Part 3

Forell did not run out his motor, but snapped the switches off without delay. He was on the ground almost as quickly as Finley himself.

“Where did you pick the shrubbery?” demanded Dick Redding, pointing at the wheels.

Finley’s eyes took in the sight. The wire wheels were stuffed with foliage from the branches that had escaped.

“Where did we get it?” repeated Forell loudly. “On a forced landing, that’s where!

“We came down in a little tiny field no bigger than a hangar, in Kentucky. When we fixed her up I took a look. Didn’t seem a chance to get out--not a chance. But I figured that we might do it by blocking the wheels and some other stuff, so I said, ‘What the ----? Either we do or we don’t!’ So I give her the gun, get the tail up, do a snake-dance down this little pasture lot with trees all around it.”

His flashing eyes met Finley’s tranquil gaze, and he stopped talking as if a hand had been clapped over his mouth. There was fear in his eyes as Finley’s held them.

“Yeah,” Finley drawled placidly. “It was a tough spot, but the Kink made it. Who’s got a cigaret?”

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the August 15, 1927 issue of Adventure magazine.]