“Maybe not,” he agreed, but his tone wasn’t exactly convincing.
“We’ll work it this way--” Bob said slowly. “Mac, here--he’ll fly Miss
West up in a D.H. She’ll do some wing work, and then you get off in the
Old Lady, Russ. She’ll work off the left wing. You get your right wing
just over it. We’ll rig on a wood loop-grip for her, and she’ll swing
off and climb up. A few more stunts on the upper surface--then you can
come down.”
“If not sooner,” Russ muttered. “Well, you’re the boss.”
Bob nodded. “Now, the camera-ship’ll be winging as close in as--”
Russ let out a roar. The girl looked startled. Bob stopped talking.
“Nothing doing!” Russ snapped grimly. “What do you mean, camera-ship?”
Bob spoke sharply. “I wouldn’t ask you to do it, Russ--only we’ve got
three pilots on the injured list and--”
“And you want a couple more fixed the same way!” Russ cut in. “Nothing
doing!”
The girl laughed again. Only this time her laugh wasn’t so pleasant.
“We’ll all have ’chutes,” she said icily. “I wouldn’t worry, Mr. Healy.”
Russ was getting sort of white around the lips. I could see that he was
thinking back, remembering.
“Nothing doing!” he muttered for the third time. “If you keep the
camera-ship out of the air, boss--”
“We’re doing it _for_ them!” Bob cut in. “The _National News_ people
want something snappy. We’re in this business to make money--and this
means we’ll make some. You’ve got to fly the high plane, Russ.”
I knew right away that Brooks had made a mistake. Russ’ eyes and his
words got cold.
“There’s only one thing I’ve _got_ to do,” he stated grimly. “And I’ll
do that in a natural way if I don’t fall for this picture stuff.”
The girl had a derisive expression.
“Maybe it’s just as well,” she said slowly. “If that wreck over there is
the one he was going to fly--I doubt if it could get enough altitude for
me to pull the stunt!”
I held my breath. Russ Healy was rigid; his eyes narrowed to little
slits. If a man had made that statement about the Old Lady, there would
have been plenty of action.
The Old Lady was an ancient Jenny. She was battered and patched,
oil-stained and weather-beaten. But Russ had worked over the old
Hall-Scott engine. He’d redoped the wings and fuselage fabric again and
again. He’d kept that Jenny in the air year after year--and he loved
her. She’d let him down once or twice, but she’d always done it
decently, given him a fair break. When any human slammed the Old Lady--
“Boss,” Russ’ voice was grim but steady, “I don’t like picture stuff.
You know that. But there’s something else I don’t like, too. I’ll fly
the Old Lady tomorrow!” He looked the girl squarely in the eyes.
“I’ll let you climb up on one of the Old Lady’s wings tomorrow,” he said
grimly. “And when you get aboard, and get through playing around on the
wing--you just tuck yourself in the rear cockpit. Lady--won’t we have
fun!”
Then, abruptly, Russ turned his back on us and walked away. I stared at
Bob, and he stared at me. Joan West shrugged her slender shoulders, and
laughed. It was supposed to be sort of a gay laugh--but somehow it
didn’t seem to register that way. Bob spoke.
“He’ll be all right by tomorrow, Miss West. Russ is all right. A
camera-ship tangled with him six months ago--and he’s off them. But
he’ll be all right. You stirred him up.”
There was plenty of truth in that statement. The girl sure had stirred
Russ up!
“But what did he mean? What will he do, after I make the transfer?”
Her voice trembled slightly. Brooks was trying to think of a good
answer, and I couldn’t help getting in a little dig.
“It’ll be all right,” I said slowly. “We’ll all have ’chutes, won’t we?”
* * * * *
The girl wasn’t around in the evening, and just before dark, when the
air was pretty calm, Russ and I took a couple of ships up and played
around a bit. Russ had the Old Lady and he had her within three feet of
my left wing-tip several times. When we came down Bob grinned at us.
“It’ll go fine!” he stated enthusiastically. “She could have reached up
and made the transfer a half dozen times--just now.”
Russ nodded. “Sure she could,” he returned grimly. “But there wasn’t any
camera-ship in the air.”
Bob eyed Russ narrowly. “Look here,” he said slowly. “This little girl’s
all right, Russ. The camera people picked her for the stunt--she didn’t
pick them. I don’t like the way you talked to her today.”
Russ swore softly. “How about the way she talked to _me_?” he asked.
“She thinks the Old Lady is an air wreck. And I aim to show her that--”
“Oh, that--you don’t worry me any there,” Bob cut in. “That lady has
looped a ship sixty-two times in succession. She jumped twelve times.
You can’t scare her any. I’m not bothering about that any. But she’s a
lady and--”
“So’s the Jenny!” Russ interrupted grimly. “She’s no wreck, that plane.
Lady West said she doubted if that Jenny could get altitude. Well, I
hope she dresses warm tomorrow.”
I stared at Russ. That was the bunk. The ceiling of the Old Lady wasn’t
so much that either Russ or the girl would be apt to catch even a mild
cold, and he knew it. So did Bob Brooks. He shook his head slowly.
“It’s a nice job, this transfer,” he said slowly. “And we need the coin.
Don’t muss it up, either of you fellows.”
“Give the same advice to the camera-ship pilot,” Russ muttered. “He’ll
need it most.”
Bob had started away, but he turned around, a grin on his face.
“Not _that_ boy,” he said quietly. “He’s the guy who gave Miss West that
little sparkler she’s wearing on a certain finger.”