CHAPTER FIVE
Tim and Ralph returned to the _News_ office where Tim busied himselfwriting copy for his aviation column in the next day's paper.
Among the letters he found on his desk was one from the news director ofthe Transcontinental Air Mail Company at San Francisco. The lettercontained an announcement of the company plans to increase theirpassenger and air mail service to three trips a day each way acrosscountry. It would mean the inauguration of the most auspicious airtransport program in the country.
The letter went on to say that giant tri-motored biplanes, capable ofcarrying 18 passengers and half a ton of mail or express, were beingcompleted in the Transcontinental's shops. A half dozen of the newplanes would be put in service with the opening of the new schedule anda dozen more would be completed as rapidly as possible.
The letter indicated that all of the planes would stop at Atkinson,which meant Tim's home city would have the best transcontinental airservice in the country. The story was news, big news, and he devoted theremainder of the afternoon to writing it. He got in touch with CarlHunter at the field and learned that Hunter had just receivedinstructions to put on an extra ground crew. The postmaster suppliedinformation on the value of the increased air mail service to bankersand business men and when Tim had finished gathering his material he hadenough for a two column story.
The young aviation editor of the _News_ worked until six o'clock, wentout for a hasty dinner, and returned to the office to complete hisstory. The aviation copy must be ready the first thing in the morning tosend to the waiting Linotypes.
Tim checked the facts in his story carefully. When he finished readingit over he felt that it was a creditable news story, certainly it wasinteresting and he thought it fairly well written.
Ralph, who had been sent out late in the afternoon to cover a serviceclub dinner, came stamping into the office.
"Of all the hot air," he exploded, "I've listened to a prize assortmentin the last hour and a half. I'm always getting stuck for someassignment like this."
Tim had little sympathy to offer and Ralph went over to his typewriterand banged savagely at the keys.
At nine o'clock the boys decided to call it a day. Tim had written thelast line of copy for his aviation department and Ralph had managed tofinish his story on the dinner.
The air was raw and bitter when they reached the street and heavy cloudsobscured the stars.
"Nasty night for the air mail," commented Tim as he turned up the collarof his coat.
"Going to snow before morning," predicted Ralph.
"Hope you're wrong," replied Tim. "We've had enough winter. I'm readyfor spring."
The young reporters walked to the corner where they boarded differentstreet cars. Ralph started home and Tim went to his room.
Tim undressed when he reached his room, selected an interestingadventure novel, and stretched out on his bed to read. Lost in thethrilling exploits of the hero of the novel, he did not notice thepassage of time. The coolness of the room finally aroused him and whenhe looked at the clock it was nearly midnight.
Tim got up and felt the radiator. It was cold and the wind was whistlingin the eaves outside his window. He looked down into the street. Faintswirls of snow danced along the paving and while he watched the airbecame thick with snowflakes.
The wind was increasing, whipping the snow into a blizzard. Tim couldhardly see beyond the first street light. He looked at the clock again.It would be tough on the air mail flyers if they were between landingfields or in the Great Smokies when the storm broke. The rugged peaks ofthe mountains would be merciless on such a night.
Tim turned to the telephone and called the municipal airport. After aninterval Carl Hunter answered.
"How is the mail?" asked Tim.
"Getting a bad break," snapped Hunter. "The storm dropped like a blanketand two of the ships were caught in the Great Smokies. We haven't heardfrom either the eastbound or the westbound for more than half an hour."
"What are you going to do?"
"Nothing until the storm breaks."
"And then?"
"Send out rescue planes if I can find anyone to fly them. All of themail pilots are on the east end of the division and even if the stormlets up at daybreak it will be noon before they can get here."
"You can count Ralph and me for anything we can do," promised Tim.
"Thanks a lot," replied the field manager. "I'd appreciate it if youwould come out now. I'm here all alone and my nerves are getting jumpyin the storm. Bring plenty of heavy clothes for the temperature isdropping fast. May be near zero by morning."
Tim promised to go to the field at once and after Hunter had hung up thereceiver telephoned for Ralph. A sleepy-sounding voice finally answeredhis summons and in a few words Tim explained what was needed.
"I'll throw on some clothes and hop a cab for the field," said Ralph,all thought of sleep having vanished.
Tim dressed carefully and warmly for he had a hunch it would be a goodmany hours before he saw bed again and from past experiences he was wiseenough to follow his hunch.
The flying reporter phoned for a cab and then went downstairs to awaitits arrival. He stopped at the door of his landlady's room and slipped anote under to tell of his sudden departure. Then he went into the fronthallway. The lights of a cab gleamed dimly through the snow and Timhastened out into the storm.
The taxi driver, heavily bundled, grunted as Tim gave his destination.
"Sure you want to get to the airport?" demanded the driver.
"Can't you make it?" asked Tim.
"Don't know," replied the taxi man. "The snow is drifting fast and thatroad is bad on a night like this."
"See how far you can get," said Tim as he climbed into the cab.
With a grinding of gears the cab moved into the storm. The snow wasfalling in a solid blanket that obscured even the buildings flanking thestreet. Lights were visible for only a few feet and Tim and the driverfelt as though they were in a world of their own.
Once or twice the cab slid into the curb but each time the drivermanaged to keep it under way and they finally pulled through the gate atthe airport. Tim told the driver to charge the trip to the _News_ andwas about to enter the administration building when another cab joltedto a stop.
Ralph, bundled in a heavy coat, hopped out and followed Tim into thefield manager's office.
Hunter, a radiophone headset at his ears, was listening intently to anair mail report. He motioned for the boys to take chairs and went onwith his work.
The reporters waited until Hunter had finished taking the message.
"What news now?" asked Tim.
"Bad news," replied the field manager. "Two planes lost somewhere in theGreat Smokies. It's a cinch that the storm forced them down and you knowhow much chance there is of making a safe set-down on a night likethis."
"Who were on the ships?" Ralph wanted to know.
"Tiny Lewis was coming east and George Mitchell was on the westbound,"replied Hunter.
"They don't make any better flyers than those two," commented Tim.
"But they can't buck a storm like this," Hunter reminded. "Why, manalive, you can't see ten feet ahead of you."
"Maybe they had a break and landed when the first flakes started down,"suggested Ralph.
"You're too optimistic," replied the field manager. "This storm wasn'ton the weather charts. It just dropped down from nowhere. I don'tbelieve those ships could have stayed up two minutes after they nosedinto the storm and neither one of the pilots had time to use theirradio-phones."
"Good thing they had parachutes," said Ralph.
"I'm afraid chutes wouldn't do them much good," said Tim. "They wouldn'thave time to use them and wouldn't know where they were going if theydid. We'll find Lewis and Mitchell with the planes."
Conversation stopped. There was no use to say anything more. They knewthe air mail pilots had stuck by their ships. When the storm clearedthey would find the ships and
the pilots and they only hoped that insome miraculous fashion the ships had not crashed too hard.
At four o'clock the storm lessened and the wind abated. At five o'clockthere was only a trace of snow in the air and at six o'clock themechanics had struggled through the drifts from town and were warming uptwo reserve mail planes. The _Good News_, its fuselage damp from thecoat of paint, was in no condition to take the air and Hunter had placedtwo of the Transcontinental's planes at the disposal of the flyingreporters.
Tim and Ralph loaded thermos bottles of hot chocolate into the cockpitsof their planes, put in first aid kits, ropes and hand axes andgenerally prepared for any emergency that might confront them.
Abundant supplies of extra blankets were tossed into the mailcompartment ahead of the pilot's cockpit and the hood was strapped down.
The motors of the great green and silver biplanes droned steadily as Timand Ralph seated themselves at the controls.
"Locate them first," Hunter shouted to the reporters. "If you can't landand bring them out yourselves, come back and get help. Good luckand--hurry!"
Tim and Ralph fully understood the urgency of their mission and theyswung the tails of their planes around, opened the throttles and bouncedover the field in a smother of snow.
The mail planes, their 525 horsepower motors barking in the near zeroweather, lifted off the field and sailed away toward the Great Smokies.Somewhere hidden in the dim peaks to the west were the air mail planesand their pilots.