“That’ll be great,” I managed after a few seconds. “Fine.”
* * * * *
Russ managed something that was close to a smile. But he didn’t say
anything. Bob Brooks nodded his head.
“It ought to be good,” he stated quietly. “Miss West is making a plane
transfer--without the usual rope ladder. Wing to wing.”
I regarded the girl with considerable admiration. There aren’t many boys
or girls doing it that way. A rope ladder dangling from the plane above
means clearance. Either ship can hit a bump--drop or rise--and have air.
But in order to go from plane to plane _without_ a rope ladder, that
means one wing-tip must come within four or five feet of the other. It’s
a tough way of shifting ships.
Russ grunted. “First time you’ve done it that way, Miss West?” he asked
grimly.
The girl laughed.
“It’ll be the second,” she said slowly. “I tried it one other time, but
the ships--”
“Yeah--it’ll be a good one,” Bob cut in sort of loudly, and I figured
right away that he was trying to cover something up. But so did Russ
Healy.
“_What_ happened the other time?” he asked.
The girl looked at Bob, then at me. She spoke in a cheerful tone.
“The ships got tangled up,” she stated. “But the pilots weren’t as
expert, I’m sure, as you men.”