Dave read the wire through twice, then smiled and sighed happily.
“Well, there you are, Freddy,” he said. “Dreams do come true.”
“I certainly hope so,” the English born youth echoed. “But he doesn’t
say anything except for us to meet him.”
“He doesn’t have to!” Dave growled. “Holy smoke! He says it’s important.
That’s good enough for me. Look, let’s get dressed and packed and go to
the L.A. Base. I’d like to borrow a ship and go up there by air,
wouldn’t you?”
“Quite!” Freddy replied instantly. “Almost a week, now, since I’ve been
up. Yes, I could do very nicely with an odd spot of flying. But I wonder
what he’s got lined up for us--if anything?”
“Stop wondering,” Dave chuckled, and headed for the elevators. “It
doesn’t get you any place. We’ll know tonight--and then maybe you’ll be
sorry you did find out.”
“Not if it’s action, I won’t!” Freddy said fervently. “I’ll be the
happiest chap in the world.”
“Next to me,” Dave said. “And I’m still keeping my fingers crossed.”
It was just under two hours later when the two youths, wearing the
uniforms of Naval Aviation Lieutenants, entered the Field Commandant’s
office at the Los Angeles Air Base and saluted smartly. This was not the
first time they had been at the Base, nor the first time, either, that
they had met the Commandant. He returned their salute, and then came
forward to greet them warmly.
“Welcome, Lieutenants,” he said as he shook hands. “But save your
breath. I know why you’re here. Got a wire from Washington not more than
an hour ago. I’m to loan you a plane on request. Okay. There’re three or
four hundred out there. Take your pick. Or do you want one apiece?”
“No, a two seater, please, sir,” Dave said, straight-faced. “Lieutenant
Farmer, here, hasn’t flown for a week. So I’d better take him along as
passenger. Get him used to the air again.”
The Commandant laughed as the red rushed into Freddy’s face, but there
was frank admiration in the eyes he focussed on the English youth.
“A two seater it will be then,” he said. “But I’m well acquainted with
Farmer’s air record. A week’s lay-off, or a year’s lay-off, wouldn’t
hurt his piloting skill any. And of course, that goes for both of you.
So stop trying to put me in the middle, Dawson. You’re both tops in my
book. And that’s that. Well, I suppose you want to get going?”
“If we may, sir,” Dave said. “We really have all kinds of time,
but--well, it would sort of feel good to coast around for a spell. But I
guess you know how we feel?”
“Don’t I, though!” the Commandant exclaimed, and sighed heavily. “I
don’t often give advice, but here’s a tip for you two lads. Don’t ever
let them promote you to the job of a Base Commandant. All desk work, and
mighty little flying. Keep in the air, boys. Keep in it as long as you
can. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about when I say that. Well,
let’s go out and get your plane warmed up. I’ve got a Vultee two seater
out there that’s a sweetheart. But I’ll loan it to you chaps. Let’s go.”
The two youthful air aces murmured their thanks and followed the
Commandant outside. But there was a warm tingling glow in their chests,
and a pleased and happy light in their eyes. The L.A. Base Commandant
could have praised them to the skies, but all his words would not have
been half the compliment that was his offer to loan them a Vultee two
seater that was “a sweetheart.” That meant that the plane was the
Commandant’s own personal ship, when he could use it. And he was doing
them high honor to offer it for their use.
Half an hour later they thanked the Base Commandant again and took off
in the Vultee with Dave at the controls, and Freddy Farmer riding the
rear gunner’s pit. Dave took them up to eight or nine thousand, and then
started tossing the ship around a little, just to get the feel of the
air again. That off his chest, he twisted around in the seat and grinned
at Freddy. The English youth shook his head, made a wry face, and held
up both hands with the thumbs extended downward.
“Simply terrible!” he shouted above the sound of the Wright radial in
the nose. “Go back and do it all over again. And you call yourself a
pukka pilot? Rubbish! But I say, Dave, now that we’re up here, and have
lots of time on our hands, mind doing something?”
“Certainly, if it’s not for you!” Dawson shot back at him. “What is it?”
Freddy raised a hand and pointed eastward.
“Let’s go inland a bit and follow the mountains northward,” he said.
“They’re very picturesque, and I’d like a good look at them. Mind?”
“Okay by me,” Dave replied with a nod. “Always did like mountain flying.
Fair enough, then. Hang on, little man. Here we go.”
Banking the plane eastward, Dave headed for the long range of towering
peaks, then turned northward when he was over them, and throttled
slightly. For a good half hour they flew along about the peaks, not
saying more than half a dozen words to each other. The wild rugged
beauty of the scene below was something that made words seem empty and
futile. It was a scene that moved the heart rather than the tongue.
Suddenly, though, Freddy Farmer leaned forward and rapped Dave sharply
on the shoulder.
“Off there to the right, Dave!” he called out. “About a mile, and down
in that valley shaped like an S. I think--Dave! That’s a crashed plane
down there, or I’m crazy. Look! Do you see it?”
Dave stared hard off his right wing and down at the valley indicated by
Freddy Farmer’s pointed finger. It was several seconds, though, before
he spotted the crumpled wings of a wrecked plane, and the broken tail
that was sticking straight up in the air. But for Freddy Farmer he could
have flown over the spot a hundred times, and not sighted anything but
the trees. But now that Farmer’s eagle eyes had picked it out for him,
the crashed plane was as clear as day to him. He took a quick glance
back at Freddy, nodded vigorously, and impulsively hauled the throttle
all the way back.
“Check!” he cried. “And from the wing color and markings, that looks
like an Army Air Corps ship to me. My guess is that it’s a Curtiss
P-Forty. I’m going down for a better look--and a landing, if we can make
it.”
“Of course it may be an old crash,” Freddy said as he kept his gaze
fixed on the wreck. “And the pilot has been rescued. But good grief, in
this wild country a chap could be lost for weeks.”
“You’re telling me?” Dave echoed. “That’s why I’m going to make plenty
sure before I try and sit down. We’ve got an important date in San
Francisco tonight, you know.”
Freddy Farmer nodded absently, and then both boys shut up and
concentrated all of their attention on the crashed plane. Dave took the
Vultee downward, held it steady against the ever changing wind currents
in among the mountain, and eventually was no more than a couple of
hundred feet over the wreck. It was then that Freddy Farmer’s sharp eyes
went to bat again.
“It isn’t an old crash, Dave!” he cried. “And there is the pilot chap,
on the ground close to that buckled left wing. See him? He’s alive, but
hurt. He can’t get up. He’s waving to us. Dave, think you can make it?”
Dawson didn’t reply. He had already seen the injured pilot waving for
help, and he was now stabbing the ground with his eyes for a suitable
place in which to sit down. He finally picked a spot no more than a
quarter of a mile away. It was small, and mighty narrow, but he was sure
that he could make it. If he didn’t? He didn’t bother to answer that
question. Right now there was an injured man down there on the ground
who seemed to need help badly. And that was the important thing.
“This is it, Freddy!” he called out grimly. “That narrow strip dead
ahead. I’m going to shoot for it. Be ready to stick out your hands and
push the tree trunks away!”
“Never mind the funny remarks!” Farmer barked right back at him. “Just
get us down in one piece. That’s all you have to worry about.”
“A mere detail!” Dave growled, but didn’t bother to turn his head. “Just
a mere detail. Consider it as good as done!”
Perhaps it was sixty seconds, or maybe it was sixty years before Dave
felt the wheels touch, and was able to start braking the Vultee to a
gentle stop. Only when the plane was motionless, and just the prop was
ticking over, did he let the trapped air from his lungs. He did it with
a long shrill whistle and wiped beads of cold sweat from his face.
“I think it’s safe to look, Freddy,” he said. “Is that the ground we’re
resting on? Boy, oh boy! I’m still not sure whether I should believe it
or not.”
“It’s true enough,” Freddy said, and gulped. “But how you ever made it,
don’t ever ask! Very top-hole, just the same, Dave. One of the best bits
of flying I ever saw you do. And I mean that, old thing!”
Dave wiped some more sweat from his face and legged out and down onto
the ground.
“Thanks, pal,” he said. “But I did it by making believe it was you at
the controls. Okay, let’s--”
Dave didn’t finish. At that moment came the agonized cry of an injured
man through the trees.
“Help! Help! Over this way! Can you hear me? Can you hear me? Over this
way--hurry...!”
Dave and Freddy simply glanced at each other. Then they spun around as
one man and went plunging blindly back through the heavy valley growth.
------------------------------------------------------------------------