Jimmy Has an Adventure with a Bootlegger
It was nearly ten o’clock that night when the two young fliers walked
into the _Morning Press_ office in New York, tired but happy. Jimmy had
filed his story as soon as he could get away from the crowd and write
it. A hasty bite to eat had followed, and then the two young reporters
had hopped off for Long Island, which they reached quickly and without
incident. Now Jimmy was waiting to see the managing editor.
He did not have to wait long. Mr. Johnson soon sent for him. Jimmy took
Johnnie with him, and the two stepped into the managing editor’s office.
“Well, Jimmy, I’m glad to see you back safe and sound,” said Mr.
Johnson. “Sit down and tell me about your trip. I have about come to the
conclusion that any time news is scarce hereafter I shall send you out
on an assignment. You seem to have more adventures than any reporter I
ever heard of. When I hired you, it was to _get_ the news. I never
dreamed that you would also _provide_ the news. As I recall it, I paid
you a certain sum to act as pilot, and I had to increase your pay
considerably when you blossomed out into a reporter as well as a pilot.
Now I suppose you’ll be asking for still more money because you _make_
the news as well as report it.”
Jimmy laughed with the managing editor, who was evidently feeling well
pleased. “I’ll be glad to tell you about my trip, Mr. Johnson,” he said,
“but first I want to introduce my friend Johnnie Lee. He’s your new
reporter and he helped to make the news to-day.”
“Johnnie, I’m glad to know you,” said Mr. Johnson, shaking the lad’s
hand warmly. “You certainly made a fine start with the _Press_. It was
my idea that you were to come here as a cub, and start at the very
bottom of the ladder. But it looks as though you have been learning some
tricks from Jimmy. I suppose you’ll want a raise right away.” And the
managing editor laughed heartily.
“No, sir,” said Johnnie. “I don’t want anything more just now than a
chance and enough to live on.” Then he added, “But I’ll try to deserve
the raise before very long.”
“You had better borrow a rabbit’s foot from Jimmy,” chuckled Mr.
Johnson. “He carries them in every pocket. He has—excuse me, until I
look at these.”
A copy boy had just brought him proofs of Jimmy’s photographs.
“Jimmy,” said the managing editor, after looking at the proofs, “just
what breed of rabbit is it that you get your rabbit feet from? You have
the greatest luck of any fellow I ever knew. You’ve got the most
remarkable picture here that’s been taken since—since—well, since
Clint Murphy snapped Forest O’Brine working on the engine of the
endurance plane, the _St. Louis Robin_, 3,000 feet above the ground.
That picture was a wonder. But you’ve got one here to equal it. It’s a
close-up snap of that woman parachute jumper dangling from her plane.”
“I’m mighty glad it came out good,” said Jimmy, “but I didn’t take it.
Johnnie snapped all the photos while I flew the ship. It’s his picture,
Mr. Johnson.”
“It doesn’t matter who snapped the camera,” said the managing editor.
“It took two of you to get it. We’ll surely beat the town on this.”
“Yes, we shall,” replied Jimmy. “There wasn’t another plane in the air
when she was performing except our two ships. Nobody else could have
gotten a close-up of the thing.”
“I’d just like to know, Jimmy,” grinned the managing editor, “exactly
what breed of rabbit you cultivate. You take a tip from me, Johnnie, and
get some feet from this same breed. Now you boys run along. I’ve got to
get to work.”
Jimmy introduced his friend to Mr. Davis, the city editor, who would
henceforth be Johnnie’s boss. Then he made Johnnie known to several of
the reporters. Finally the two young men left the office and went to
Jimmy’s boarding house, for they had decided that they would room
together. In a little while they were both asleep, but at intervals
through the night Jimmy dreamed about the accident to the parachute
jumper that he had witnessed.
He saw little of Johnnie thereafter, for their hours did not
synchronize. Most of the time Jimmy’s work was done in daylight hours,
whereas Johnnie went to work early in the afternoon and worked until
late at night. But they roomed together, sleeping in separate beds, and
left notes for each other, and could of course see each other when
occasion demanded.
The days passed quickly. Johnnie learned rapidly. Jimmy had few
assignments of an exciting nature. His luck seemed to have deserted him.
He carried pictures, transported reporters, covered a few unimportant
stories. Time hung heavy on his hands. Meantime the autumn passed and
winter came. It came with a rush and it came early. Almost over night
the balmy days of Indian summer changed into days of fierce winds and
icy chill. From all parts of the country came reports of intense cold.
Almost in a twinkling navigation in the north was tied up. The lakes and
streams were frostbound and frozen. Steamers were caught in the ice, far
from land. Suffering was intense. Deaths were reported in many quarters,
due to the cold. Isolated lighthouse keepers and the dwellers on remote
islands were cut off from communication. In many of these isolated
places food and medicine ran low. The weather itself, with the attendant
difficulties of travel, the deaths, the hardships, all consequent upon
the intense cold and the deep snow and ice, became a leading story.
Day after day, belated tales of freezing, hardship, death, heroic
rescues, blizzards, storms, and other phases of the weather, or stories
incident to the abnormal cold, came trickling belatedly into the office.
The managing editor watched this news with growing interest. He had
lived, in his younger days, on the very northern border of the country
and even in Canada. He knew what these periods of cold and storm meant
to the people living in isolated places. And so, when one day there came
a belated despatch to the _Press_, saying that a feeble wireless message
had been received by a boy wireless operator in Smithville, in northern
New York, telling of the plight of people on a neighboring island, in
Lake Ontario, the managing editor was filled with both interest and
sympathy. The island was absolutely cut off from communication with the
mainland by the terrible ice, food was running low, and a whole family
was dying of pneumonia because of the lack of certain medicines.
“It’s really a story for the Montreal or Rochester papers to cover,”
thought Mr. Johnson, “but up to this time they haven’t done it. If we
could slip in there ahead of them, we’d not only do some real good, but
we’d bring a lot of credit to the _Morning Press_. I believe I’ll see
how it looks to Donnelly.”
He called Jimmy on the telephone and told him about the situation. “Do
you think you could reach the place safely with your plane?” he asked.
“Let me look at my maps before I answer you,” said Jimmy.
Jimmy studied them a moment. “If I flew to Smithville, which is only six
or seven miles south of Sackett’s Harbor,” he said, “and hopped off from
there, I should not have to fly over more than a few miles of water.
There are several islands in a straight line close to Smithville. In
case of a forced landing, I could probably make one of those islands. I
think I can do it all right, and I’ll be glad to go. It won’t take so
very long to make it, either.”
“Then get your ship ready at once. I will have a physician make up a
package of medicines and write down some directions to be followed in
caring for patients with pneumonia. You take the stuff out to the island
and find out how many are ill and how ill they are. Leave the drugs and
the directions. Fly back to Smithville and communicate with me from
there. Then we can determine what should be done further. Perhaps you
will have to take a physician to the island. We’ll do all we can to help
these poor people on the island.”
When all was ready, and Jimmy had his medicines aboard, he hopped off
and headed straight for the Hudson, up which river he flew as far as
Albany, where he swung to the left and followed the Mohawk River to
Rome. Thence he followed the railway tracks direct to Smithville, where
he landed in a great snow-covered field. He had had his plane equipped
with skis, and the snow did not bother him at all.
Jimmy climbed out of his plane and walked into the village to ask some
questions. He wanted to know about the possibility of making a safe
landing at the island, whether or not he had selected the safest route,
and what was known in Smithville concerning the condition of the people
on the island. He found the lad who had heard the wireless message, and
he got information on all these points. He was soon satisfied that the
islanders needed help, and that he had chosen the very best way to get
there. The villagers told him he had estimated the distance correctly
and would have to cross only a few miles of the lake. But there was
little open water, they said, and the chances were that in case of a
forced landing he could get down safely on the ice, which was very
thick, and also rough. Jimmy said he had a radio sending set and asked
some of the radio fans to listen in for him during the next half hour.
Then he prepared to hop off.
To his surprise, another plane soared into the sky from a point near the
lake shore on the other side of the village, just as Jimmy was about
ready to take off. He looked at the plane with dismay. Another newspaper
was going to beat him, he thought, and beat him by the tiniest of
margins. But when he suggested as much to the townsfolk who had gathered
about his plane, they laughed. Also they winked their eyes.
“Never mind about him,” they said. “The only medicine he carries is for
snakebites. He flies back and forth between Canada and points along the
shore hereabout. Just what he carries we don’t know for sure, but we can
all guess. He’ll go right on over to Canada.”
Relieved, Jimmy hopped off, headed straight out over the frozen lake
toward the first island, and opened his throttle. He did not like the
looks of the rough ice beneath him, and he meant to reach the island as
speedily as possible. Soon he saw that he was flying faster than the
bootlegger ahead of him. But as he had only a few miles to go, he
thought he should hardly overtake the man.
On they flew, Jimmy following straight after the other plane, and all
the time creeping up on it. To fly to the island took less than ten
minutes. Yet Jimmy was glad enough when he neared the shore, for he did
not like the looks of the rough pack ice beneath him. He had just
started to circle over the island, in order to search out a landing
place, when he noticed the bootlegger’s plane acting crazily. Jimmy saw
at once that something was wrong with the craft. Also, he saw that the
pilot, who was already at the farther end of the island, was making a
desperate effort to turn and effect a landing. The ship came down fast,
landing on ground that was none too smooth, but was apparently not
harmed, though the running gear might have been broken. About that,
Jimmy could not be sure without a close inspection.
Sweeping completely around the island, Jimmy saw that there was no
better place to land than the open space in which the bootlegger had
been forced down. So he came down cautiously, in as easy a glide as he
could make, ready to give her the gun instantly, should the place prove
impossible. But he found a long, fairly smooth stretch before him, and
set his ship down neatly in the snow. She slid for some distance, then
came to rest in perfect safety.
Jimmy hopped from his plane and looked about him. On one side was the
other flying machine, and the pilot of it was walking toward him with
great speed. On the other hand, at a considerable distance, was a little
group of houses, doubtless the residences of the stricken islanders. But
they were evidently not all stricken, for several men could be seen
coming toward him.
For a moment Jimmy stood looking at them, trying to count them. He was
curious about these isolated islanders, and not a little sympathetic
toward them. He wondered what sort of people they would prove to be. And
he was eager to get their story, and to deliver the medicines. He was
also curious to know what manner of man the bootlegger would prove to
be. And presently, hearing the latter’s step at hand, he spun about to
face him, and found himself looking into the barrel of a revolver that
the approaching bootlegger had leveled at him.
Jimmy’s heart began to beat violently. He was so utterly taken by
surprise that he did not know what to do or say. For a moment he was
silent. The bootlegger did the talking.
“Get back into your plane,” he said sharply.
Jimmy did as ordered. There was nothing else to do. To his astonishment
the bootlegger climbed into the plane after him, shut the door, and sat
down in one of the seats. The revolver he still held in his hand
menacingly.
“Take off as quick as you can,” he said gruffly.
Jimmy glanced at the advancing islanders and played for time.
“What’s the big idea?” he asked, trying to appear calm, though his heart
was beating a tattoo against his ribs.
“I just put a connecting-rod through my crankcase,” growled the man.
“Then you want to be ferried ashore,” said Jimmy. “Just as soon as I
speak to these men I’ll take you. I’ve got a package for them.”
The man raised his pistol. His face was black as a thunder cloud. “If
you know when you’re well off, kid,” he snarled, “you’ll do what I tell
you. Hop off and hop off quick, or I’ll drill you full of holes and fly
your old crate myself.” Jimmy saw that he was in a tight place. He swung
about and hopped off. He headed straight back for Smithville.
“Turn her in the opposite direction,” growled the man, “and just keep
going.”