interior was like. It was not as roomy as the hulking tri-motors, but
the seats were more comfortable and the pantry which the stewardess
used was complete to the latest detail. The lights were soft and easily
adjustable. Each passenger could control the ventilation of the
individual windows. The interior was in black and brown, pleasingly
harmonious.
There was a full passenger list, and Grace was busy checking over the
list and making sure the necessary supplies were aboard. Then the sleek
craft was away, Jane and Sue waving, as the monoplane rolled out of the
hangar. Grace waved back as the night swallowed the plane.
For two hours Jane and Sue remained at the field, listening to reports
of the speeding ship, which was setting a new record for air passenger
travel in the United States.
"What fun it would be aloft tonight," said Sue a bit sadly, "and to
know that you were setting a new speed record."
"We shouldn't begrudge Grace that trip," Jane replied. "We've had
plenty of good things since we joined the service."
Before winter set in, the entire fleet of new planes was operating on
the transcontinental line and the sturdy old tri-motors were wheeled
into the hangars where dust soon stood thick on the valiant wings.
Winter flying was to be a new experience for the girls, and they were
issued trimly tailored coats, heavily lined. Fortunately the new planes
were well insulated and there was a splendid electric heating system.
Extreme cold failed to slow up the schedules, the planes stopping only
for snow, which swirled down from the peaks of the Rockies. Christmas
eve found Jane roaring toward Chicago on the _Coast to Coast_, but she
had planned for it and brought a tiny Christmas tree aboard at
Cheyenne. There were only eight passengers aboard and she had shopped
in the dime store for small gifts which would be appropriate for almost
any group. She copied the names from the passenger list on gift tags
and then carried the tree and her armful of presents to the front of
the cabin, placing them in the two forward chairs.
The passengers were delighted, for Christmas eve away from home, even
at 5,000 feet in the air and speeding along at 180 miles an hour, could
be a little dreary.
Jane was gay, and her good humor cheered up her passengers. One by one
she called their names and they opened their presents with evident
curiosity and enthusiasm. There was a nice handkerchief for the elderly
woman who was hurrying to Chicago, a tube of shaving-cream for the
clean-shaven New York traveling man, and a picture book for the little
girl of seven who was traveling with her mother.
Gifts for the other passengers were appropriate. Then Jane opened a
basket of popcorn balls she had made at Mrs. Murphy's and a box of
delicious home-made candy. All in all, it was as gay and pleasant as
Christmas eve could be away from home.
With the turn into the new year, winter descended on the Rockies in all
its fury. Blizzards raged for days and the passenger schedules were
practically abandoned. Whenever the storm let up, the planes, with only
the pilots and the mail aboard, dashed across the continental divide,
but for more than a week, Jane and her companions remained snowbound at
Cheyenne.
Then reports of sickness and misery in isolated mountain towns began to
creep in. Doctors were running short of supplies in villages where the
flu had appeared. Unless the blizzards abated soon, there would be
serious trouble.
Jane was scheduled to go out on the _Coast to Coast_, coming through
from the west for the first time in three days. The plane was hours
late and she reported at the field just as the early January night
closed down. Miss Comstock was in the operations room. So was Slim
Bollei, one of the veteran pilots.
"You might as well go home, Jane," said Miss Comstock. "I phoned, but
you had started for the field. It's snowing west of here and the _Coast
to Coast_ won't get out of Rock Springs before dawn."
Slim Bollei, who had been looking out the window, shrugged his
shoulders.
"You're optimistic," he grinned. "It's snowing thicker and harder than
at any time this winter."
The weather had turned bitter cold with the wind lashing around the big
hangar in a chilling overture.
When Jane started back to the city, she found that the field car which
had brought her was stalled. She telephoned for a taxi, but was
informed that no machine would be available for at least an hour, so
she made herself comfortable in the waiting room which adjoined the
office of the night operations chief.
Sue called to learn if they were going to try to get the _Coast to
Coast_ through and Jane informed her that she was marooned at the
field.
"Maybe I'll be home by morning," she concluded hopefully.
It was half an hour later when the phone on the night chief's desk
rang. Jane was near enough to catch most of the conversation for the
man on the other end of the wire was shouting.
"Sure, I know there's trouble," the night chief said, "but we aren't
moving any of our mail planes. It would be suicide to attempt to fly
tonight."
"What's the matter?" asked Slim Bollei.
"It's the governor at Laramie," replied the night chief. "There's been
a bad outbreak of diphtheria at Lytton, a village up against the
Montana line in the country that God forgot. The doctor there is out of
serum and a couple of the youngsters are desperately ill. There's
plenty of serum here and the governor wants us to get a plane through."
The night chief turned back to the telephone.
"But I tell you, governor, it can't be done. You can't see a hundred
feet through this storm and the temperature's down to five below zero
and dropping fast."
"Wait a minute," cut in Slim Bollei. "Find out what's the least
possible time the serum can be used and do any good."
"They've got to have it before tomorrow night," said the night chief
when the governor's reply came to him. "Everything else that's tried to
get to Lytton has failed. It's a plane or nothing at all."
"Tell him we'll get through some way," snapped Slim. "We can't let kids
die without trying."
"But we can't afford to wreck one of the new ships," protested the
night chief.
"I'll take one of the old tri-motors. Tell the governor we'll get
through."
The flyer turned and walked toward the radio room.
"Get Chicago," he snapped, "and have them put the operations chief on
the wire."
Less than a minute later Slim Bollei poured his story over the short
wave radio and into the ears of the operations chief at Chicago. He
wanted one of the old tri-motors and he got it with the chief's
blessing. After that he left on the run to route out a ground crew to
get the plane ready for the flight.
Miss Comstock, who had listened gravely, turned to Jane.
"Slim can't go alone," she said. "A nurse will be needed there. I'm
going. You take charge here."
"But you're needed more than I am," protested Jane. "Let me go."
Miss Comstock shook her head.
"There's too much danger. Slim and I will go."
"One nurse won't be enough," insisted Jane. "Think what two of us could
do, think what it will mean to those youngsters."
Miss Comstock smiled. "You win, Jane. We'll both go."
Outside the shadowy bulk of one of the tri-motors was being wheeled
into the hangar. As soon as there was the slightest break in the storm,
they would be away on their errand of mercy.
Chapter Twenty-three
White Madness
Miss Comstock, with Jane at her heels, hurried into the commissary.
Supplies must be made ready and food placed aboard the tri-motor. Out
in the hangar a crew worked desperately over the big plane, tuning up
the motors and checking in the gas and oil.
Slim Bollei, in a sheepskin, appeared to be everywhere, orders cracking
from his thin lips.
In half an hour Jane and the chief stewardess had two large hampers
ready, one filled with medical supplies and bandages and the other
containing food. There was more than a chance that they would be forced
down and food might become very much of a necessity.
A car struggled through the storm, bringing the serum out from the
city, and Slim Bollei returned to the operations office.
"Everything's ready," he informed the night chief. "How's the weather?"
"Not so good. It's still snowing hard in the mountains and the mercury
is eight below now, but it won't drop much further."
"We'll wait another hour and see if we can get away then," decided
Slim.
Jane and Miss Comstock sat down in the waiting room, drawing their
coats around them, for at eight below zero the heating plant was
functioning none too well.
The pilot came in with two fleece-lined coats.
"Better put these on," he advised. "There won't be much heat in the
cabin and I don't want to drop down at Lytton with a couple of frozen
stewardesses on my hands."
They accepted the coats gratefully and waited for the next reports on
the storm.
It was dismal waiting there, with the wind howling around the hangar
and the snow driving against the windows. At midnight it was still
storming hard and they delayed their departure another hour. But the
storm held on and the sky was greying before Slim Bollei decided to
make the attempt.
The motors of the huge biplane roared lustily in spite of the cold, the
hampers and the precious serum were placed aboard, parachutes were
adjusted under their coats and the trio, the chief pilot and the two
stewardesses, struggled out to the plane.
The cabin was cold and it would take some time before heat from the
motors warmed it. Miss Comstock and Jane kept moving about and looking
out at the storm. It was still snowing, but the fall was not as thick
as it had been during the night. Reports from the west indicated the
end of the blizzard was near.
Slim Bollei came back into the main cabin.
"All ready?" he asked.
Miss Comstock nodded.
"See that your chute packs don't foul. If I signal three times on your
light you'll know we're in trouble. Four sharp flashes will mean you've
got to unload."
"What about yourself?" demanded the chief stewardess.
"I'll get along all right," said Slim. "You get out of the cabin if I
signal for a jump."
The radio operator ran out with the final weather report and the
tractor rolled the big doors away. The biplane quivered as the full
strength of the wind whistled through the hangar. Then the ship rolled
ahead, flame spitting from the three long exhausts. The runways had
been swept clear of snow by the wind and Slim Bollei opened the
throttle. In no time at all they were in the air, turning north for the
160-mile flight to Lytton.
With a quartering wind from the Rockies, the plane pitched badly and
Miss Comstock and Jane fastened their safety belts. Even then they were
thrown around sharply.
The cabin warmed only slightly, for the older ships had been poorly
insulated. Jane beat her hand together to keep the circulation flowing.
The air speed indicator hovered around the 90 mile an hour mark. At
that rate it would take them nearly two hours to make the trip. The
ground disappeared in the drifting haze of snow and Jane knew the pilot
was flying blind. She was glad that Slim was rated one of the best
flyers on the system, for he would have need of every ounce of the
skill in his capable hands.
For an hour they bored through the storm. Then the middle motor started
to sputter and the light flashed three times. They unfastened their
safety belts and stood in the aisle.
"I'm going ahead to see what's wrong," said Miss Comstock.
She hurried forward and Jane listened intently to the uneven firing of
the motor.
When Miss Comstock returned Jane could see that the chief stewardess
was worried.
"Slim says the motor seems to be freezing up. It's only a question of
time before it will quit altogether."
"Does that mean we'll have to try for a landing?" asked Jane.
"He thinks he can keep going on the wing motors. He's going to try but
he said to be ready to jump if one of them stops."
Standing in the aisle of the cold cabin, with the wind rocking the
plane and the snow hiding the ground, Jane felt a chilling of her heart
that was caused by something beside the sub-zero winter. The serum they
carried was so desperately needed in the isolated town. Lives of
children depended on the success of their trip. They must win through;
the wing motors must continue their rhythmic beating.
Five minutes later the center motor quit firing altogether and the wing
engines growled as the added burden came upon them. The wind seemed to
have slackened slightly, but the mantle of snow still enfolded them in
its fleecy whiteness.
The minutes crept on endlessly. They must be nearing the village if the
pilot's calculations were correct and the wind had not drifted them too
far off their course.
Jane went to one of the windows and peered down. There was only the
snow and the wind swirling it below them. Then they started down,
feeling their way through the blizzard.
It was tricky work, a task that required the hand of a master pilot,
for at any moment they might smash down out of the sky in a crash
landing.
With nerves taut, the stewardesses watched the needle of the altimeter.
The light flashed three times. It was the warning of trouble ahead.
The plane lurched upward and a resounding shock rocked the big craft.
Jane caught a glimpse of something black and rugged underneath the left
wing. Miss Comstock cried out in alarm.
"The landing gear's smashed," she shouted.
"We must have struck a rock ridge," replied Jane.
They zoomed upward and the light flashed four times. That was the
signal to jump. Jane looked at Miss Comstock. The chief stewardess
shook her head.
"I'm not jumping," she cried.
"Neither am I," replied Jane, hurrying ahead to the pilot's cockpit.
Slim Bollei was clinging to his controls.
"Jump," he yelled. "We've washed out the landing gear."
"We're not jumping," Jane told him firmly. "If the storm will only
clear you may be able to skid in for a landing on the snow."
"That's what I'm hoping for, but I can't stay up here forever."
Jane remained in the forward cockpit while the pilot sought a break in
the storm which would enable him to get his bearings and land. For
fifteen minutes they cruised in great circles.
"The storm's breaking away," cried Jane.
Slim nodded hopefully. It did seem as though the snow was thinning.
For another fifteen minutes the motors droned steadily and at the end
of that time, the snow lessened to a fine cloud. Objects on the ground
came into view. "There's a village!" cried Jane, pointing to the right.
Slim Bollei swung the tri-motor in a gentle circle, for he lacked the
power for steep climbs and banks. As the plane roared over the
snowbound town, men appeared, waving their arms frantically.
"I guess that's the place," grinned Slim. "It's the only town within
thirty miles. Now we've got to find a place where we can do a little
skiing."
Beyond the village he found a field nearly half a mile long. It was
sheltered in a valley with what wind still remained sweeping the length
of the field.
"Get back in the cabin and hang on," shouted the pilot. "I'm going to
cut the motors and see what kind of a snowbird this is."
"We're starting down," Jane told Miss Comstock when she returned to the
cabin.
The plane tilted forward and the motors eased down to a whisper. The
snow-covered ground leaped toward them, then seemed to pause in its mad
rush as the biplane leveled out there was a sharp bump, the sound of
tearing wood and fabric, and a series of jolting shocks before the
tri-motor came to rest with its nose in a deep drift.
Slim Bollei staggered back into the cabin, a deep gash over his right
eye.
"Get the serum out of here. The gas tanks have given way and the fuel
may explode any second."
Jane clutched the package of precious serum and threw open the cabin
door. Miss Comstock came after her, tugging the hamper loaded with
medical supplies while Slim carried the hamper of food. The snow was
eighteen inches deep, and they floundered through it, gasping for
breath. They stopped a hundred yards away from the big plane and Slim
eyed it ruefully.
"That's a good job for a salvage crew," he said, "but I guess the line
won't kick a whole lot. That ship paid for itself many a time."
Strangely enough, even with the fuel flowing out of the split gas
tanks, the big craft did not take fire and the flyer and the
stewardesses turned to greet the villagers, who were hurrying to meet
them.
Chapter Twenty-four
Dangerous Passengers
Miss Comstock and Jane remained in the village two days, ministering to
the needs of the stricken children and playing first assistant to the
over-worked village doctor. Then another Federated Airways plane, one
of the old tri-motors, dropped down on them and whisked them back to
Cheyenne. From the governor came a personal note of appreciation for
what they had done.
After that the winter tapered off. The storms were less severe and the
flying schedules were maintained, almost without interruption. Jane and
her companions found their routine duties pleasant, for no two days
were alike. The weather varied, passengers changed and there was always
the element of the unexpectd injecting itself into their work.
Spring arrived in a shroud of rain and fog, but with the improvement of
the radio beacons, the planes were seldom delayed. The end of their
first year as stewardesses neared and it was late in May when Jane,
aboard the eastbound _Coast to Coast Limited_, swooped down on the
field at Omaha.
To her surprise, the first passenger to step aboard was Miss Hardy, the
supervisor of nurses at Good Samaritan. Jane was genuinely glad to see
her, for it had been through Miss Hardy she had received the
opportunity to join the stewardess service.
The _Coast to Coast_ was five minutes ahead of schedule and Jane and
the supervisor had a chance to visit. Miss Hardy explained that she was
going to Chicago for a part of her vacation and had finally managed to
make up her mind to fly.
"Perhaps I'd better say my brother convinced me," she smiled. "I've
been in Omaha a week. He's a regular aviation fan and comes out to the
field two or three times a week to watch the night planes come in.
After he dragged me along, I began to feel that I wasn't afraid to make
the trip."
"You'll enjoy every minute of it," Jane assured her, "and I'm
especially delighted that your first trip is with me. Slim Bollei,
one of the most skilled pilots on the line, is at the controls today.
That means you'll have a smooth, comfortable trip. Once in a while a
cross-wind gives the passengers a little trouble, but travel is
unusually comfortable today."
"You've certainly attracted national attention," said Miss Hardy. "I've
read of your exploits on several occasions, once when the bandit plane
tried to abduct that wealthy New York woman and again when you flew to
some small town with a supply of much needed serum."
"It wasn't done for publicity's sake," said Jane, "but the public and
the newspapers aren't used to stewardesses on planes and when they do
anything out of the ordinary, that's news."
Departure time came and Jane saw that Miss Hardy was settled
comfortably, in a chair next to a window, and halfway back on the right
side of the plane. Miss Hardy looked older and her eyes appeared tired.
She must have had a hard year with the new classes of girls at Good
Samaritan, thought Jane.
They roared off the field, flashed over the muddy Missouri, and then
struck out across the rolling farm land of western Iowa. The country
was fresh, with the green of the pastures contrasting sharply against
the black of the corn fields, in which the first spears of the new
stalks were starting to peep through the top soil.
Several times on their swift flight over Iowa, Jane stopped to talk
with Miss Hardy, who appeared to be enjoying the trip immensely. It was
a non-stop hop from Omaha that afternoon and almost before they knew
it, the graceful craft was settling down on the Chicago field.
"I've enjoyed the trip so much I'm going in and make my reservation for
the return flight," said Miss Hardy, as Jane helped her out of the
plane.
"Then I'll look forward to having you booked on my plane," said Jane.
"Thanks so much for your recommendation last year. It helped a great
deal in getting jobs for Sue and me."
Sue arrived the next morning on the slower _Night Flyer_ and found that
she was booked out that night for the return to Cheyenne. Business
eastbound had been heavier than the westbound traffic, and as a result
there were more girls at the Chicago airport than needed. Jane was
assigned to fly back with Sue, resuming her regular schedule from
Cheyenne on the _Coast to Coast_ on the second day.
When Sue got her passenger list, there were only four, all of them
going through to the coast.
"Looks like an easy trip," she told Jane.
Two traveling men were the first aboard and they were followed a few
minutes later by a woman of about forty, who was accompanied by a
curly-haired boy of seven or eight.
Sue nudged Jane sharply.
"Those people are down as Mrs. Henry Smith and son, but that boy looks
like Jackie Condon, the famous movie star."
Jane looked again. The boy certainly resembled the lad she had seen on
the screen so many times in the last two years. His salary was reported
to be fabulous, his weekly pay so large the figures dazzled.
Two minutes before starting time, there was a jam at the gate and two
men, well dressed, with dark, smooth faces, hurried forward, waving
tickets.
"You're just in time," said Sue, taking their tickets and assigning
them to forward chairs.
They nodded and entered the plane. Jane standing beside the landing
stage saw something that alarmed her, as the second man passed. His
coat slipped open just as he bent to go through the door and she caught
a glimpse of a gun in a shoulder holster. Guns were not unfamiliar
sights to the stewardesses, for each pilot went armed, but a gun on a
passenger was a different thing.
"What were the names of those men?" she asked Sue.
"Anton Mellotti and Chris Bardo. Why?"
"The last man, Bardo, is carrying a gun."
"We'd better tell Charlie Fischer. He's flying us west tonight."
They hurried ahead and caught Charlie just before he climbed into the
cockpit.
"So we've got a gunman aboard," said Charlie, when the girls informed
him of what Jane had seen. "We'll see about that."
Charlie entered the cabin and tapped Bardo on the shoulder. Jane
couldn't hear what he said, but when Charlie returned he didn't have
the gun.
"He flashed a deputy sheriff's badge and there wasn't anything I could
do," explained Charlie. "You kids have let your imaginations run away
with you. It's time to go."
Sue and Jane went aboard and Jane gave her friend a hand in strapping
the passengers into their seats. Then they sped westward as though
racing to overtake the sun.
Jane picked up a movie magazine from the pile aboard the ship. On the
fifth page was a large picture of Jackie Condon. Jane looked at it
sharply and then at the boy passenger. There was no mistake. Sue was
right.
She looked ahead at the passengers who had arrived just before their
departure. Mellotti was heavy set, with black hair and beetling brows.
Bardo was taller, lithe and quick of action. His eyes, so dark a brown
they were almost black, shone with animation and when he looked at Jane
she felt a queer chill creep along her spine. There was something
sinister in his manner.
The trip westward was uneventful and they left Omaha on time. It was
near Kearney when Jane, who had been reading an Omaha paper, looked up
to see one of the passengers standing in the aisle. She started ahead
to tell him that it was against orders when she saw something glinting
dully in his right hand. Other passengers were raising their hands.
It was Mellotti, gun in hand. Bardo, also carrying a weapon, was
hurrying toward the pilot's cockpit and Jane knew that the suspicion
which had gripped her in Chicago was a reality. They were abducting the
young film star.
Chapter Twenty-five
On Desperate Wings
That night was timeless for Jane. Always she would remember the stark
horror of it as the plane roared through the darkness with the gunmen
in control.
Mellotti remained in the cabin, guarding the passengers. Up ahead Bardo
forced Charlie Fischer to swing the plane off the transcontinental
airway. They were flying north. That was all Jane knew.