going with me."
Without showing too much haste, Jane shepherded her passenger into the
tri-motor. Charlie Fischer, still looking at his watch, gave her a
black look as he climbed into the cockpit.
Jane made Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable in chair No. 6, and then
stepped back to the door where Miss Comstock was peering in.
"Everything all right?" asked the chief stewardess.
"She's perfectly calm now," replied Jane. "I'm sure we'll make Chicago
all right."
"The general manager is fairly burning up the radio trying to find out
about the delay here."
"You can tell him that it took us the extra time to persuade Mrs. Van
Verity Vanness to continue the trip," said Jane.
"Good-bye and good luck," said Miss Comstock as she closed the door.
Jane made sure that the door was latched securely, stowed the hamper of
food away in the pantry, and then hastened up to take a seat beside her
passenger.
The motors roared and the plane quivered to the pulse of their power.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness paled as the plane rolled forward, but Jane
took the hands of the elderly woman and held them in her own. Almost
before they knew it the plane was in the air, streaking away into the
east in the race to make up the lost time.
Chapter Twelve
Alarming News
The lights of Cheyenne faded rapidly as Charlie Fischer gunned the big
transport hard. Jane, watching the air speed indicator, saw it climb
from 110 to 130. It hovered there for several minutes and then started
climbing again. In less than fifteen minutes they were up 7,000 feet
and with a good tail wind boomed along at better than 150 miles an
hour.
Jane looked at her elderly companion. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had her
eyes closed tightly and Jane spoke to her reassuringly.
"It's a long ride to Chicago," she said. "Suppose we look through some
magazines. Then we'll have a cup of bouillon and sandwiches just before
midnight and after that I'll tuck you in for the night."
"Tuck me in for the night?" asked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. "Why, I'll
never be able to sleep."
"I think you will. You can unfasten your safety belt now and I'll see
what I can find in the way of magazines."
Jane returned a minute later with half a dozen copies of the latest
magazines. She adjusted the reading light for her companion and Mrs.
Van Verity Vanness, seeing Jane so calm and casual, forced herself to
overcome the fear of flying which had sickened her. She selected a
magazine from the armful Jane offered and settled herself comfortably
in her seat.
"I'm really commencing to enjoy it," she smiled, "but there's a bit of
a draft around my feet."
Jane hurried back to the compartment where a supply of warm, woolly
blankets were kept. Selecting a pretty grey and pink one she wrapped it
around the elderly woman's legs. With Mrs. Van Verity Vanness
comfortable and apparently satisfied for some time, Jane opened the
Cheyenne paper.
She halfway expected to find a front page story on the dash across
country of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness in a special plane for almost any
activity of this multi-millionaire widow was worth a half column of
space. Instead, Jane read the alarming news that a mail plane had been
robbed early that morning by aerial bandits. The ship, a Bertold single
engined plane, had been shot down in southeastern Iowa on the Kansas
City to Chicago run and more than a hundred thousand in currency taken
from the registered mail pouch which it carried. The pilot had been
seriously wounded by the two bandits, who had used a machine gun to
force the mail ship down.
Jane resolved right then and there to keep all of the papers away from
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. If aerial bandits were operating, it was
entirely within the realm of possibility for them to attack a special
chartered by a woman as wealthy as her companion.
The tri-motor hurled through the night, the speed increasing as Charlie
Fischer pushed it up another thousand feet to benefit by an even
stronger tail wind at that altitude. They roared along at between 165
and 170 miles an hour, nearly 50 miles above the usual cruising speed
of a plane of that type.
Below them winked the revolving beacons which lighted the
transcontinental airway at night. Occasionally they sighted the dim
gleams from some prairie town.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness let the magazine drop into her lap as she
closed her eyes, now thoroughly relaxed and without fear of anything
happening to the plane. It was 11:30 and Jane leaned over and spoke to
her companion.
"I'll bring the bouillon and sandwiches right away. Then you can go to
sleep."
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness nodded contentedly and Jane went back to her
pantry.
The bouillon, golden brown, smelled delicious as it gurgled out of the
thermos jug and the sandwiches were almost paper thin with a tasty
filling of olives and salad dressing.
Jane put the lunch on a silver tray and carried it into the cabin where
she placed it on a small portable table which she had put between the
seats.
"Several hours ago I thought I'd never be able to eat again," smiled
the woman of millions, "but this actually appeals to me."
Jane agreed, for Miss Comstock had personally prepared the lunch and it
should be delicious. The bouillon was expertly flavored and the
sandwiches were the kind that made even the daintiest eaters hunger for
more.
When the last sandwich had disappeared and the second cup of bouillon
was only a memory, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness leaned back in her chair and
smiled happily.
"You're a wonder," she told Jane. "I think I'll ask the company to send
you clear through to New York with me."
"Our division only goes to Chicago," replied Jane, "but I'd be
delighted to go on if the general manager approves."
"I think he'll approve if I ask it. After all, I'm paying almost enough
for this trip to buy one of their planes."
Jane removed the luncheon dishes, brought another blanket, adjusted the
seat at a reclining angle and tucked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness away for
the night.
"We'll land at North Platte, Omaha, and Iowa City," she said, "but
there'll be no need for you to disturb yourself. I'll inquire for
messages at each stop and waken you if there is any news."
In less than five minutes Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sleeping soundly
and Jane went back to her pantry to stow away the dishes she had used
for their midnight lunch.
The flasher which signaled that the chief pilot wanted to talk to her
came on and Jane walked ahead, careful not to disturb her passenger.
The stewardess made her way past the baggage compartment and stuck her
head in the pilots' cockpit.
Charlie Fischer looked down at her.
"How's our famous passenger?" he asked.
"Sound asleep," replied Jane, "and she'll stay that way until morning
if you'll use a little care in landing and taking off."
"I'll drop this crate down like we were carrying eggs," promised
Charlie, "but don't you let her out of the plane. Next time we may
never be able to get her back on board."
Jane returned to the cabin where the only light was the one over her
seat at the rear. Her passenger was sleeping soundly and Jane sat down
and relaxed.
The last two hours, from the time she had received the call to rush to
the field, had been filled with a nervous tension. Handling Mrs. Van
Verity Vanness had required real tact and patience and Jane had been so
busy she hadn't had time to remember that this was her first trip as
stewardess. Up until now she had rather looked upon herself as a
trained nurse called in to care for a nervous, irritable woman.
At better than 8,000 feet the air was chilly even in the summer and
Jane got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn't dare
sleep for fear Mrs. Van Verity Vanness would waken and call her.
Jane had hardly settled down to rest when the lights of North Platte
appeared far ahead and the throbbing of the motors eased off. Charlie
Fischer set the plane down without a bounce and they rolled into the
hangar.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness roused slightly and Jane told her they were in
North Platte. The stop there took just a little better than four
minutes and Jane learned that there were no messages for her passenger.
Then they were booming east again with the next stop at Omaha.
Jane settled down in her chair, wondering if her passenger had been
serious when she mentioned taking her on to New York. What a lark that
would be and how the other girls would talk. Jane could just imagine
Mattie Clark turning almost green with envy.
The pilot found the favoring wind again and they sped from North Platte
to Omaha in record time for the big tri-motor. At the Omaha field
reporters were waiting for the plane and Jane was forced to go to the
waiting room and answer their questions, for Mrs. Van Verity Vanness
refused to see them.
For five minutes she fended off the questions of the newspapermen,
answering those she was free to.
"Better look out for the aerial bandits," they warned her. "Think of
the ransom they could demand if they captured your passenger?"
"Haven't they been captured?" asked Jane.
"No. They vanished after bringing down the mail plane in southeastern
Iowa. The last report said that they had been heading west. Of course,
that was early yesterday. They've landed at some out of the way field."
Jane thanked the reporter and turned back to the tri-motor, glad to get
away from her questioners lest she show them how much she was
disturbed. With the newspapers now broadcasting the cross-country dash
of the wealthy Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, Jane knew that the special was
not safe with the aerial bandits still at large.
Chapter Thirteen
The Black Plane
Just before the tri-motor wheeled off the ramp at Omaha, the radio
operator at the field hurried up with a message. It was from New York,
informing Mrs. Van Verity Vanness that her son was slightly improved
and was looking forward to her arrival at his bedside.
The little woman of the many millions looked at Jane through
tear-dimmed eyes.
"He's my only son," she said. "He means so very much to me."
Jane nodded. She could understand, for in her years of training at Good
Samaritan she had seen mother love put to many a severe and
heart-breaking test and she knew how deep in a human soul it
penetrated.
Reassured that her son was not losing ground, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness
dozed again as the plane raced over western Iowa.
Jane went ahead to the pilots' cockpit and leaned close to Charlie
Fischer.
"The airplane bandits are still at large," she told him.
"I know it," he said. "We got a special warning at Omaha. A strange
ship was sighted over the Des Moines field half an hour ago and it
answered the description of the bandit craft. Two army planes that were
making an overnight stop at Fort Des Moines have gone up to see if they
can trace it."
"Keep a close watch. I've got nearly a billion-dollar piece of humanity
in the cabin."
"Orders are to land if we run into trouble."
"But that would mean the capture and holding of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness
for ransom," protested Jane.
"That's better than having us all shot down," snapped Charlie. "You
just mind things in the cabin and I'll run this end of the ship."
"Well," said Jane with finality. "If I were a pilot and a bandit plane
attacked me, I'd give them a real race before I landed."
Charlie started to reply but the co-pilot grabbed his arm and pointed
over to the right. The lights of a plane, coming rapidly toward them,
were plainly visible.
Charlie looked at them for a second and then snapped off the wing
lights of his own plane. "Get back into the cabin and turn off the
lights there," he roared at Jane. "Here comes trouble."
"How do you know?" asked Jane.
"There's no other ship but our own on this division tonight and those
lights coming toward us aren't the riding lights on a night hawk."
Jane departed on the run, and snapped off the light in the cabin. It
would be dawn in another half hour, but for the coming thirty minutes
the tri-motor, running without lights, had a chance of escaping the
other plane.
The motors labored under a full charge of gas as the big ship rocketed
along at 170 miles an hour. Once or twice the needle on the speed dial
mounted above the 170 mark, but Charlie couldn't hold it there.
Jane watched the lights of the other plane. They didn't appear to be
any nearer. Perhaps the bandits, after spotting their quarry, would be
content to wait until dawn and then make a quick thrust.
The stewardess wondered if the pursuing plane was radio equipped for
even as she left the pilots' cockpit, the co-pilot had been pouring out
a warning of their danger.
It was nerve-racking business as Charlie Fischer piloted the tri-motor
with all of the skill of his big hands. In and out of clouds they
dodged, now at 8,000 feet, and again at 6,000, but always the
relentless pursuit was with them. The sky lightened and Jane knew that
the crisis was near. She wanted to go ahead and talk with Charlie and
the co-pilot, but she didn't dare leave her passenger.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness yawned and threw off the blanket which had
shielded her shoulders. She sat up and looked out into the gray light.
Jane answered her summons.
"We're having company," said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, pointing toward
the other ship, a black biplane, which had drawn near.
Jane didn't dare tell her the truth about the other plane.
"Just some pilot up early," she said lightly, but her heart was far
from feeling that way.
Their own plane dove sharply, and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gasped and
clutched the arms of her seat.
"The morning air is a bit rough at times," explained Jane reassuringly,
but she knew all of the time that the quick dive had been a maneuver of
Charlie's to give them more time. She wondered about the army planes
which had taken off from Des Moines. If their radio was working, they
should arrive soon.
"The pilot of that plane's acting queerly," said Mrs. Van Verity
Vanness. "He seems to be waving at us."
The light was better and Jane looked at the black biplane. Mrs. Van
Verity Vanness was right. They were being waved down and Jane's heart
went sick as she saw the snout of a machine gun sticking over the nose
of the other craft. If Charlie refused to comply with the order, it was
plain they would be the target for machine-gun bullets.
Jane looked at the altimeter with sinking heart. They were down to
7,000 feet and dropping lower steadily. She scanned the country below
for some sign of a city. There were plenty of small towns within range,
but no large ones where an adequate police force could be assembled to
aid them.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness did not appear alarmed. Charlie stalled at
5,000 feet and Jane saw the pilot of the other plane wave at them
angrily.
It was agonizing, for Jane knew that once they were on the ground there
would be no chance of escape. Her passenger would be whisked away in
the black plane, to be held for a fabulous ransom and a desperately ill
man in New York would be without the sympathy of his mother at his
bedside to help him through his illness.
They were down to 3,000 feet and Charlie Fischer was hunting a good
place to set down when death roared down out of the sky.
Two army planes, their machine guns spitting flame, hurled themselves
at the black biplane.
Motors roaring wide open, pilots tense at the triggers, the avenging
army craft arrived just as Charlie nosed the tri-motor down for a
landing.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness watched the scene with startled eyes and Jane's
heart pounded doubly fast.
The bandit plane was trapped between the army ships. Bullets ripped
through the wings of the black craft as the pilot tried desperately to
maneuver into position where the gunner in his forward cockpit could
get his weapon into action.
"What does it mean?" gasped Jane's passenger.
"It's a bandit plane that shot down a mail ship early yesterday in
southeastern Iowa," explained the stewardess.
"But why was it following us? This plane had no mail."
"It had you, which was vastly more important."
"Ransom?"
Jane nodded.
"How long have you known we were in danger?"
"Ever since we caught sight of the black plane. We had a description of
it at Omaha and were warned by radio to be on the lookout."
"But you didn't say a word to me."
"There was no need to alarm you."
The army planes were closing in on their quarry, darting in and out as
the pilots directed blasts of fire at the bandit craft. The aerial
desperadoes knew that they could hope for no quarter and they made one
final attempt to escape, heading their plane in a mad dive toward one
of the army ships.
But the dive laid them open to the fire of the second army flyer, and
he plunged down from above, his machine gun spitting flame. Bullets
traced through the wing of the black biplane, shattering the propeller.
Then the left wing of the biplane tore loose and the ship fluttered
aimlessly for a moment before nosing down for the final plunge.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness cried out in horror and Jane placed her hands
over the older woman's eyes. Finally the passenger turned from the
window and looked at Jane.
"You're a brave, sweet girl," she said. "Now I think I'll rest again."
Neither one mentioned the aerial duel they had witnessed as the special
roared on to the pace of its quickened motors.
Jane prepared breakfast and while her passenger sipped the hot
chocolate, the stewardess went up to the pilots' cockpit.
"Some dog-fight," said Charlie Fischer. "Those army boys showed up just
in time."
"I suppose I should say it was terrible," said Jane, "but knowing what
those bandits would have done to my passenger, I feel they got just
what was coming to them."
"They had time to repent all of their sins on the way down," admitted
Charlie. "Say, we're skipping Des Moines. Got plenty of fuel to take us
to Iowa City."
When they landed in the eastern Iowa city, another message from New
York reassured Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she read most of the way
into Chicago.
When they rolled up to the ramp of the Chicago field, Jane suggested
that her passenger step out and walk a bit.
"You'll feel much better," she assured her.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness agreed and Jane assisted her out of the plane.
Reporters were clamoring at the gate, but a cordon of police kept them
from the field.
Charlie Fischer grinned as he went by.
"I'm going over and be a hero," he chuckled, nodding toward the
cameramen and reporters, who were hungry for the story of the escape
from the bandits.
The short, stocky figure of Hubert Speidel, personnel director of
Federated Airways, emerged from the crowd and came toward them. He
beckoned to Jane and she left her passenger for a moment.
"Everything all right?" asked the personnel chief anxiously.
"She seems to be enjoying the trip now," replied Jane, "but she wants a
stewardess to continue with her."
Just then Mrs. Van Verity Vanness took matters into her own hands.
"I presume you are a company official," she said, addressing the
director. He nodded.
"Please inform your general manager that I insist upon this young woman
accompanying me to New York. She has done everything possible to make
me comfortable and without her assistance I would have been unable to
continue from Cheyenne."
"But Miss Cameron's division ends here," protested the personnel chief.
"We'll have to put another stewardess aboard here."
"I don't care a snap about divisions," said the woman of millions. "I
want this stewardess. Remember, there are other lines east of Chicago."
The personnel director promised to do what he could and hastened away.
He was back in less than five minutes.
"It's a little irregular," he said, "but Miss Cameron can go through to
New York with you."
Fresh supplies were brought out and placed in the pantry, Jane checking
each item, for they would have lunch at noon aboard the plane and
possibly a light supper just before they reached New York.
A new crew of flyers took charge and exactly fifteen minutes after
landing, the special roared away, with an entire nation watching its
progress, for newspaper presses were spewing out extras by the
thousands, telling the story of the attempt to abduct Jane's passenger.
Chapter Fourteen
Page One News
The day was clear and warm, a beautiful June-time, and the special was
soon speeding over the flat country of northern Indiana. There was only
one stop scheduled between Chicago and New York, that at Cleveland,
where the tanks would be filled with fuel.
Jane prepared an appetizing lunch and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness ate it
with evident relish as they skirted the south shore of Lake Erie. That
over, she insisted that Jane explain how she had happened to join the
air line.
The elderly woman was a good listener and Jane told in detail of her
last day at Good Samaritan and how Miss Hardy had recommended her for
the position with the Federated Airways.
"I'd never heard of stewardesses on the planes until you came aboard at
Cheyenne," said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. "Have you been flying long?"
Jane smiled for her passenger was going to be in for a surprise.
"This is my first regular trip," she confessed. "All of the girls go
into service tomorrow."
"Then I predict a fine future for you. Why, I thought you were a
veteran of hundreds of miles of flying."
It was a sincere compliment and Jane glowed inwardly. She had been so
anxious to make a good impression on her first flight.
At Cleveland another message from New York reassured Mrs. Van Verity
Vanness and again she was shielded from reporters. No one was allowed
out on the ramp, but cameras clicked as Jane stepped out of the cabin
for a breath of air. Then they were racing eastward again, with the
next stop the Newark airport.
They flew high over the rugged Alleghenies and then dropped down over
Jersey toward the metropolis. The end of the long flight was near and
Jane felt greatly relieved.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness summoned her as they swung over the Newark
airport.
"Wouldn't you like to join me, traveling as my nurse and companion?"
she asked.
It was a question that left Jane speechless. She had never considered
such a possibility.
"As soon as my son is well, I plan to leave on a round-the-world trip.
We would be gone a year."
It was a tempting offer, almost irresistible, but the zest of flying
was deep in Jane and she shook her head.
"I don't believe I would be happy leaving the air line now," she said.
"There seems to be a real future for girls in aviation and I want to
make the most of my opportunity."
The other woman sighed. "I was afraid that would be your answer and you
are probably right. But I've grown dreadfully fond of you. If there is
anything I can do at any time, don't hesitate to call on me."
"Thank you," said Jane.
The plane rolled to a stop in the Newark hangar of the Federated line
and a huge limousine with two motorcycle officers flanking it, drew up
to the cabin door.
"Good-bye, my dear," said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness as she stepped into
the limousine to be whirled away toward New York to the tune of
screaming sirens.
Jane was a little breathless. It had been such an exciting trip all the
way from Cheyenne. Now she wondered just when she would start back. An
official hurried toward her.
"Reporters are almost tearing the waiting room to pieces," he said.
"They couldn't see Mrs. Van Verity Vanness but they insist on talking
with you. You'd better tell them what happened this morning."
"But I don't know what to say," protested Jane.
"Just answer their questions."
In the waiting room a dozen men of assorted ages, and three women,
awaited Jane. The moment she entered they started firing questions at
her.
"How had Mrs. Van Verity Vanness acted when the bandit plane swooped
down on them? How had Jane felt? What had she served her passenger at
mealtime? Had Mrs. Van Verity Vanness commented on the financial
situation?"
It was a steady barrage and Jane's head whirled as she tried to answer
them all. Finally she threw up her hands and sank down in a chair in
despair.
"Can't you see I'm all tired out?" she cried. "Please let me alone."
She buried her head in her arms and her body shook with the sobs of
nervous exhaustion for the strain of the long flight and caring for the
wealthy passenger had been more than Jane had realized.
"She's a plucky kid," she heard one reporter say as the newspaper
people trooped out of the room.
In a few minutes Jane felt more composed and she went into the
operations office.
"What time do I start west?" she asked the chief dispatcher.