The day of their departure dawned bright and clear. There was a high
ceiling, the air was crisp and cool, with a fresh wind blowing. The boys
could hardly control themselves in their impatience to be off. Bob's
parents and Mrs. Gregg drove down to the airport with them to see them
off. In spite of the excitement of the boys, there was an undercurrent
of restraint in the group. Nobody talked very much except Bob and Hal,
who never stopped talking.
The cabin plane had been taken out and warmed up by the mechanics of the
port. It looked sleek and beautiful in the early morning light. Pat was
going to fly her. He walked over to the Administration Building to make
final arrangements with their friend Mr. Headlund. He took a short cut
across the field. The port wasn't very busy. But there was some
activity--activity that Pat, intent upon his business, did not notice. A
student pilot, taxiing his plane across the field for his first solo
flight, was coming straight toward him. Pat did not notice the student,
the student was too rattled to see him.
Bob was the first to notice what was happening. "Look put!" he screamed.
"Pat, look out!"
The student pilot suddenly saw Pat. He veered his plane, but a corner of
the wing just grazed Pat's head, and knocked him flat. He was already
getting to his feet when the others got to him.
"Are you hurt, old fellow?"
Pat was rubbing his head. "No, I don't think so. That is, no, I'm not at
all. Just nicked me. I'll be all right in a second." He shook his head
to clear it. "Gave me a bit of a bump. I'll be all right."
The student pilot, white and shaking, came over to them. "Hurt badly?"
he asked anxiously.
Pat laughed. "No such luck, lad. You missed me that time. Better luck
next time. You might try picking on somebody who's not so tough, next
time."
Pat was himself again, and the others, thankful that he had not been
seriously hurt, watched him go into the Administration Building. When he
came out, Bill asked. "Do you want me to pilot?"
Pat looked scornful. "Since when did a little bump on the head put me
out of commission? I'm driving the bus."
All the baggage stowed away, the boys, the Captain and Pat got into the
plane. They waved good bye to the others outside, the huge craft taxied
over the field, turned into the wind and rose into the air. It was
pleasant being off at last. There was the grand trip before them, and
then the vacation itself, fishing, swimming, shooting. Hank had filled
their heads full of the glories of his private mountain, as he called
it. The cabin with its huge open fireplace built of stones, the bunks in
two tiers like the berths on a pullman. Bob and Hal had already decided
that they would have to take turns sleeping in the upper one, because
surely the upper one would be the most fun.
Their thoughts kept returning to the cold mountain streams filled to the
brim with scrappy fish, and the waterfall that Hank said he used as an
outdoor shower. A whole month of it! The boys could hardly sit still on
the leather cushions.
"Want something to eat?" said Bill.
"Of course," they said, almost together.
Bill reached for the lunch hamper. Then something seemed to go wrong.
The plane lurched. But they hadn't struck an air pocket. It's nose fell,
and the three were almost thrown into a heap, one atop the other. The
plane was going into a spin! Beyond the glass partition, Pat lay slumped
over his wheel.
Something had to be done at once. And it was Hal who did it. He pushed
open the glass partition, and got somehow to the pilot's seat. With all
his strength, and his excitement gave him a strength that he had never
before possessed, he pulled Pat out of his seat, and pushed him through
the door, where the Captain and Bob were waiting to take him. Hal
slipped behind the wheel, and neutralized all controls.
Thank God, they had been flying at a high altitude. The spin wasn't a
tight one, but a loose one. Hal pushed her nose down. That was what Pat
had told him, wasn't it? Don't try to pull her nose up. Push it down,
and she'd come out of it and go into a glide. At first nothing happened.
Hal was trembling, not so much with fear as with exaltation. He felt the
great ship respond. They were coming out of it! They were gliding
swiftly down to earth. He had her perfectly under control. Slowly he
pulled her up, then, and they were flying quietly and steadily with the
horizon again.
The Captain was at the door behind him. "You're great, Hal, you're
great. You had more guts than any of us. I knew you had it in you, and
you've showed us, Hal."
Hal was happier than he had ever been in his life. He felt that he was
master of the world now. He'd saved his pals, and now he would never
have to be afraid of anything again. "How's Pat?" he asked.
"We're turning around. He hasn't come to," said the Captain. "I'm afraid
he was hurt more badly than he thought."
Hal banked and turned. It was good to feel the ship respond to him,
dipping one huge wing slowly, and turning about gracefully in a great
circle. If not for Pat, his happiness would have been complete.
They got Pat to the hospital, where it was found that the nasty crack on
the skull had given him a slight concussion. But you couldn't keep Pat
down. It merely meant postponing that trip, not cancelling it.
Hal was the hero of the day. The newspapers, who got the story at the
airport, hounded him until he conquered his shyness, just to get rid of
them. They made the most of the story, and Hal was almost afraid to
leave the house, for fear some of his friends would meet him in the
street, because Hal was still the same modest retiring soul that he had
been.
But he did leave the house to go down to the hospital to see Pat, along
with Bob and Captain Bill. Pat was sitting outside in a wheelchair when
they came, and they sat down on the grass beside him, and talked about
their postponed trip.
"Do you know," said Captain Bill, "when we come back from our trip,
there's something that's going to keep me busy."
"What's that?" asked Bob.
"I'm going to collect all of those stories we told into a book. What do
you think of that for an idea?"
"Great!" said Bob. "All of our stories? Mine, too?"
"Sure, all of them."
"But Hal won't have a story. He hasn't told one," said Bob.
"Hal's going to be the hero," said the Captain.
THE END