The Sky Trail

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Tim and Ralph parted in the foothills of the Great Smokies, Ralphtook up his search for George Mitchell, pilot of the missing westboundmail.

  Throughout the morning Ralph conducted his fruitless quest and when nooncame he was forced to turn back from the mountains and seek a ranch orvillage where he could refuel his plane. Ralph's ship was slightlysmaller than Tim's and consequently had a longer cruising radius withthe same fuel load.

  Ten miles north of the regular air mail route lay the village of Rubioand Ralph set the mail plane down in a pasture east of the town. Thenoise of the plane had drawn the attention of the villagers and theyswarmed to the field.

  Ralph quickly explained his needs and the owner of the village garagebrought out a truck loaded with gasoline. Refueling of the mail ship wassoon accomplished and Ralph then hastened into the village where he wentto the only restaurant and managed to secure a good, warm meal. Heordered a large lunch prepared and packed and by the time he hadfinished his dinner the lunch was ready. He paid for the food and walkedback to the plane.

  Several of the village boys volunteered to hold the wings while Ralphwarmed the motor. He gave the new fuel a thorough test and thensignalled for the boys to let go.

  The propeller sliced through the air and its blast created a smallblizzard which hid the crowd of villagers in a smother of snow.

  The mail ship gathered momentum, bumped over the uneven ground andfinally bounced into the air.

  Ralph headed back for the air mail route to resume his search. Back andforth he cruised, confining his search to the foothills of the mountainsfor there was slight chance that Mitchell would have reached the GreatSmokies.

  The afternoon wore on and Ralph's hopes of finding the missing flyerthat day lessened. It was slow and tedious work cruising over therolling hills whose slopes were covered by dense growths of trees,principally pines.

  If Mitchell had come down in one of the forests it might be weeks beforehe would be found.

  Ralph was speculating on how long his fuel would last when he saw anirregular gash in the tops of the trees ahead. He swung the plane lower.Something had taken off the tops of half a dozen tall, scraggly pines.It looked as though some giant of the sky had paused a moment, swung amighty sickle, and then gone on.

  A quarter of a mile further Ralph saw a repetition of the broken treetops. Then he caught sight of the missing mail plane. The tail of theship was sticking straight up in the air; the nose was buried in a deepdrift at the base of a mighty pine. The propeller was splintered and theundercarriage gone but otherwise the plane did not appear to have beenbadly damaged.

  Ralph gunned his motor hard and watched for some sign of the pilot nearthe wrecked plane. For ten minutes he circled the spot before lookingfor a landing place for his own ship. In one of the valleys between thefoothills he found a small meadow that looked as though it would serveas an emergency landing field. He took careful note of the position ofthe wrecked plane and then drifted down to attempt the landing.

  The meadow was bordered by pines that stuck their spires into the skyand Ralph thought for a time that it would be impossible to avoid theirscraggly tops and get into the meadow. He finally found a break in thepines and sideslipped through. Then he straightened out and fishtaileddown into the meadow. The pines had protected the meadow from thedriving north wind of the night before and the snow had not drifted.

  Ralph taxied the mail plane up under the shelter of the trees, lashed itsecurely, and then prepared for his trip to the wrecked plane.

  The young reporter took his package of food he had had prepared atRubio, ropes and a hand axe and started the climb up the foothills. Thesnow had drifted but little and he made good progress. In little morethan half an hour he reached the scene of the wreck of the air mail.

  Ralph shouted lustily, but there was no response. The tail of the bigship was pointing straight into the sky. Ralph could see that Mitchellwas not in the pilot's cockpit.

  Then he gasped with astonishment. The door of the mail compartment wasopen.

  Ralph ran across the small clearing and hastily climbed the wings and onup to the mail compartment. One glance was sufficient.

  The sack of registered mail was missing!

  There was no sign of a struggle at the plane and there was no responseto his frantic shouts.

  Ralph sat down in the mail cockpit to think things over. His firstthought had been that the mail had been robbed. He discarded that beliefand decided that Mitchell, possibly unharmed in the crackup had takenthe precious sack of registered mail and was attempting to find his wayout of the forest and make for the nearest town.

  Ralph dropped down from the fuselage and started a search in the snow.It was light and powdery and had drifted just enough to make thedetection of footprints difficult. The reporter made a careful searchbut it was not until he was on the far side of the plane that hisefforts were rewarded.

  Footprints, almost concealed by the snow which had fallen later, weredimly visible.

  Ralph, eager and alert, took up the trail and soon had lost sight of thewreck of the westbound air mail.

  The footprints zig-zagged this way and that for it had been night whenMitchell had deserted the plane and started to make his way out of theforest.

  Ralph plowed steadily through the snow. The forest was silent except forthe occasional call of a snowbird and Ralph felt a mighty lonelinessaround him. The shadows were lengthening rapidly and Ralph pushedforward with renewed determination.

  At intervals the reporter stopped and listened intently for some sound.It was possible that Mitchell might call for help.

  Sundown found the reporter far from the wreck of the air mail, weavinghis way along the dim trail. Ralph, although little versed in woodcraft,could read certain signs in the dim footprints. He could see thatMitchell had been tiring rapidly. The steps were more uneven and once ortwice the air mail flyer had stopped beside some tree to rest.

  The light in the forest was fading rapidly and Ralph advanced as fast aspossible. Once he lost the dim trail and had to retrace his steps. Hebegrudged the lost time and when he found Mitchell's trail started at adog-trot, but with the coming of the night he was forced to slow down.

  The reporter stopped in a small clearing and called lustily throughcupped hands. Again and again he shouted and at last he thought he hearda faint reply. Perhaps it was only an echo. He called again and a voice,far away, answered.

  Confident that he was near the missing pilot, Ralph hurried forward,bending almost double in order to follow the dim trail. He stopped everyfew hundred feet and shouted. Each time the reply came clearer andstronger.

  Ralph came out on the bank of a small stream. Below, on the rocks besidethe creek bed, he saw the crouched form of the air mail flyer.

  "George! George!" cried Ralph.

  "Down here," came the reply. "Take it easy or you'll slip and twist yourankle just like I did."

  In less than a minute Ralph was beside the man he had been hunting andMitchell told him of the events preceding the crash and how he hadattempted to escape from the forest and reach some habitation.

  "The storm struck so quickly I didn't have a chance to escape," said theair mail flyer as Ralph worked over the twisted ankle. "The snow and icecollected on the wings and forced me down. Maybe you saw where I tookthe tops off the trees before I finally cracked."

  "Sure did," said Ralph. "Matter of fact, the only way I found your shipwas through seeing those broken tree tops. They gave me the clue that aplane had been in trouble. A little further along I saw the tail of yourship sticking up in the air."

  "I took a real flop," went on the mail flyer. "Just nosed right straightdown and smacked the old earth. I ducked just in time and outside a fewbruises wasn't hurt. Managed to get the sack of registered stuff out andfigured I could get out of the woods and reach some ranchhouse or therailroad. Then I fell over this bank, twisted my right ankle, and I'vebeen here ever since."
r />   Ralph chopped some dry wood from a dead tree nearby and soon had a fireblazing merrily among the rocks. He made the mail flyer as comfortableas possible, warmed the lunch he had brought with him and they bothenjoyed the meal, the first Mitchell had eaten in twenty-four hours.

  After the lunch had been devoured, Ralph turned his attention to theinjured ankle. It was a bad wrench but he managed to fix a makeshiftbandage that held it firm. After that was done he picked up a blazingpiece of firewood and struck out into the night. In a few minutes he wasback with a forked branch which he informed Mitchell could be used as acrutch.

  Ralph picked up the sack of registered mail and with his assistanceMitchell managed to negotiate the steep slope of the creek valley. Whenthey were in the woods Ralph went back and extinguished the fire.

  The reporter returned and helped support the mail flyer as they startedthe slow and painful journey to the plane which was to be their means ofescape.

  Mitchell did the best he could but his ankle throbbed incessantly andthey were forced to rest every few hundred feet.

  After an hour and a half of the gruelling work, Mitchell was exhaustedand Ralph decided that it would be best for them to wait until morningbefore continuing their journey.

  He selected a clearing which had only one large tree in the center.Brushing away the snow he cut enough pine branches for a makeshift bedand then constructed a barrier of branches to shield them from the wind.

  A fire was started and Mitchell, weak and chilled from his exertions,laid down beside it. Ralph massaged the swollen ankle until the pain hadeased and the mail flyer fell asleep.

  The reporter busied himself securing enough firewood to last untilmorning and after that task was completed laid down beside Mitchell inthe fragrant pine bows. He dropped into a deep sleep of exhaustion andhad slept for some time when he awoke with a terrifying fear grippinghis heart.

  Blazing eyes were staring at him from the edge of the forest; eyes thatburned their way into his mind. A whole ring of them were closing in,creeping ever nearer the fire.

  For a moment the terror of the situation held Ralph motionless. Then heleaped into action.

  The fire had died low but there was still a few burning embers. Heseized the ends of several of these and hurled them toward the hungryeyes.

  The flaming brands made fiery arcs through the night. Some of themdropped sizzling into the snow; others struck dark bodies.

  Hoarse cries shattered the midnight stillness as the wolves fled beforeRalph's sudden attack. In a second it was over and when Mitchell wantedto know what had happened, Ralph felt as though he had been dreaming.

  "Wolves were closing in on us when I woke up," he explained. "For aminute I was too scared to do anything. Then I remembered that they wereafraid of fire and I hurled half a dozen embers from our campfire atthem."

  "I never thought of wolves," said the mail flyer. "Good thing you wokeup or we might have become 'A Great Mystery' or some such thing. Itwouldn't take those timber wolves long to finish a fellow."

  Ralph agreed that the wolves were dangerous and piled new fuel on thefire.

  Mitchell still had his heavy service automatic and Ralph appropriatedthe weapon.

  The bright light from the fire kept Ralph awake for a time but after anhour and a half of struggling against fatigue his eyes closed.

  Stealthy movements in the forest failed to arouse him and slinkingfigures emerged from the timber. The wolves were advancing again.

  A dozen of the hungry, grey beasts of prey crept nearer and nearer thefire. In an ever narrowing circle they closed in upon their victims,treading lightly lest they make some noise.

  Mitchell, exhausted from his long battle through the snow and the painof his injured ankle, was breathing deeply.

  The reporter had fallen asleep sitting up and his head was bent forwardas though he was in thought. In his right hand was the heavy .45 caliberautomatic.

  Closer and closer came the wolves.

  Forty feet.

  The fire crackled as it bit into a pine knot and the beasts stoppedtheir advance. But Ralph failed to wake up and the deadly circle drewnearer to the little camp in the center of the clearing.

  Thirty feet.

  Mitchell stirred restlessly and then relapsed into the deep sleep thatclaimed him.

  Another moment and the wolves would spring, their glistening, baredteeth ripping at their victims. They crept closer, crouched for thefatal spring.

  The fire was lower, its light making only a dim glow, and through thiscould be seen the bright eyes of the wolves.

  From the heavens came the deep thunder of the motor of the westboundmail. Its echoes filled the night and Ralph awakened instantly.

  The wolves, startled by the sudden burst of sound, were motionless.

  In the brief second before they leaped, Ralph threw his body acrossMitchell to shield the injured flyer from the savage onslaught.

  The automatic in his hand blazed, shattering the darkness with shafts offlame.

  Bullets thudded into the gray shapes which swirled around the dimcampfire.

  A huge timber wolf landed on top of Ralph. He felt its hot breath, heardthe throaty growl of triumph, felt the muzzle seek his throat.

  With desperate effort and strength born of terror, Ralph pressed themuzzle of the automatic against the shaggy grey fur. The shock of theheavy bullet distracted the wolf and it ceased its efforts to kill Ralphand slunk into the shadows.

  The reporter crouched over Mitchell, waiting for more onslaughts. Thewolf cries continued and Ralph put more fuel on the fire.

  In the light from the leaping flames he saw the explanation. His firstbullets had brought down two of the huge beasts and their companions,scenting the fresh blood, had turned from their attack and were tearingthe stricken wolves to pieces.

  Mitchell handed a fresh clip of cartridges to Ralph and the reportersent another hail of lead in the direction of the wolves.

  Fresh cries of pain filled the night but it was not until Ralph hadbrought down two more of the great beasts that the others slunk away anddisappeared in the timber.

  "How did they happen to get so close?" Mitchell asked.

  "I must have fallen asleep," admitted Ralph. "First thing I heard wasthe roar of the westbound plane going over and then I saw a whole circleof hungry eyes looking at us. They were crouched, ready to spring, whenthe sound of the plane distracted them. It gave me just time enough toget into action with the gun."

  "Good thing you did or all that would have been left of us by morningwould be soup bones," grinned Mitchell. "I've had all the thrills I wantfor one night. I'm not going to risk going to sleep again."

  The reporter and the mail flyer sat up and talked for the remainder ofthe night.

  At the first lightening of the sky, they resumed their journey towardthe plane. In the clearing they left the bodies of four wolves andfurther along the trail they found the body of a fifth, the one whichhad leaped upon Ralph.

  They finally reached the wreck of the mail plane and continued untilthey came to the clearing where Ralph had left his ship.

  "Not any too much room to get out of this pocket," commented Mitchell ashe surveyed the tall pines which enclosed the valley.

  "I had to fish tail in and dodge a few trees doing it," replied Ralph."But if I got in I guess I'll be able to get out all right."

  Mitchell rested in the snow while Ralph unlashed the plane and turned itaround. Then the reporter boosted the flyer into the mail cockpit andprepared for the take-off. He primed the motor and felt that luck waswith him when it started easily.

  Mitchell leaned out of the mail cockpit and shouted back at Ralph.

  "I know this ship," he cried. "Let her get a good run. Then pull backhard and she'll climb almost straight up. Don't hold her in a climb formore than two hundred feet or she may slip back on back and go into atail spin."

  Ralph nodded his thanks and made a final check to see that the plane wasready for the attempt to get out of the valle
y.

  Tall pines loomed on every side. Straight ahead there was a slight breakin the tree tops he hoped to be able to slide through. It would requireskilful piloting but they had passed through so many ordeals in the lastfew hours that Ralph felt himself capable of meeting the emergency.

  The reporter leaned ahead and tapped Mitchell on the shoulder.

  "All set?" he asked.

  Mitchell nodded.

  "Then hang on," cried Ralph and he opened the throttle and sent theplane skimming through the snow.

  The barrier of pines rose ahead of the propeller. Ralph waited until thelast second and then jerked the stick back. The wheels lifted off theground and the ship flashed into the air.

  It was going to be close but it looked like they would clear the treesand wing their way eastward in safety. Ralph whipped the plane throughthe narrow opening in the tree tops. They were almost clear when onewing brushed the snow-burdened tips of the pine. It was just enough tothrow the plane out of balance. They lost speed and the nose starteddown.

  Ralph had visions of being impaled on the tops of the trees and heworked frantically to right the plane. Lower and lower they slipped.Then the motor overcame the pull of gravity and they resumed theirclimb. Two tall trees barred their way and Ralph banked sharply.

  There was a sudden jar as though some giant had reached up to pluck theplane from the sky. Then it was over and they were soaring towards theclouds.

  Mitchell, who had been watching their progress, relaxed and slumped downinto the mail cockpit.

  Ralph, perplexed by the last jarring sensation as they cleared the finalbarrier, wondered what had happened to the ship. The wing tips had notbeen damaged and the tail assembly was all right.

  Determined to find out what had taken place, Ralph leaned far out of thecockpit in order to see the landing gear. One glance was sufficient. Theleft wheel had been smashed.

  Ralph slid back into his seat and gave his attention to the handling ofthe plane. He had more than an hour in which to decide how he would landat Atkinson.

  The sky cleared and the sun peeped over the horizon. The last snow ofwinter would soon be little more than a memory but it would be a bitterone for the air mail with two planes wrecked.

  Atkinson was just waking up when Ralph roared over and circled theairport. He swooped low to attract attention and first on the field wasTim, who had been awakened by the sound of the plane.

  "One wheel of Ralph's ship is smashed!" cried Hunter.

  "And I'll bet he hasn't got a whole lot of gas left," said Tim.

  "What will we do?" asked Carson, who had returned to the field.

  "Take a wheel up to him," replied Tim.

  Turning to the field manager, he asked, "Have you got a spare wheel thatwill fit that ship?"

  "Two of them," said Hunter. "I'll have them in in less than a minute."He hastened to the parts room and returned with a spare wheel. Togetherthey ran to hangar No. 5 which was the home of the _Good News_. Theplane, repainted and with its motor and rigging carefully checked, wasready to go again.

  "You handle the controls," Tim told Hunter, "and I'll do the planechanging stunt."

  Hunter warmed up the _Good News_ and Tim secured the extra equipment heneeded. He tossed a coil of rope into the forward cockpit and put anassortment of wrenches of various sizes into the pockets of histight-fitting leather jacket. Then he vaulted into the cockpit andsignalled for Hunter to open the throttle.

  The _Good News_ flipped through the open door of the hangar, made ashort run, and then, its powerful motor thrumming steadily, nosedskyward in a steep climb.

  Hunter took the _Good News_ alongside the slower mail plane and Timsignalled to Ralph what he intended to attempt. Mitchell, who was nowaware of the danger of their situation, was watching anxiously from themail cockpit of Ralph's plane. Himself an expert flier, he was fumingimpatiently at his helplessness.

  Hunter and Ralph coordinated the speed of their planes and Huntergradually edged over the other plane.

  Tim made one end of the rope fast to the cockpit and to the other hetied the spare wheel. He lowered the wheel over the side of the fuselageand slowly let it down until it was just above Mitchell. The mail flyerreached up and took the wheel, untying the rope to which it had beenfastened.

  Then Tim pulled the rope back, knotted it in half a dozen places, andtossed it overboard again.

  "Take it easy," he warned Hunter as he unfolded his long legs and easedthem over the side of the cockpit. The air was cold and clinging to aswaying rope one thousand feet above the ground while traveling ninetymiles an hour was no picnic. Little by little Tim slid down the swayingrope.

  Ralph watched the controls of his plane like a hawk, creeping nearer andnearer to Tim.

  The gap between Tim and the upper wing of the mail planelessened--almost vanished. Then the flying reporter let go and sprawledon the wing, his hands clutching the forward wing.

  The drop had knocked the breath from his body and he gasped painfully.After a short rest he felt his strength returning and started edgingtoward the center of the ship. Ralph held the plane steady and Tim madegood progress. In less than five minutes he was in the mail cockpit withMitchell.

  In a few words the injured pilot told Tim what had happened, of his owncrash and attempt to get out of the timber with the registered mail, howRalph had found him and later fought off the wolves and how they hadsmashed a wheel in getting clear of the trees surrounding the valley.

  Tim told Mitchell that he had found Lewis, the other missing pilot, andbrought him safely to Atkinson. That done, Tim took the wheel and slideout of the cockpit and down on to the landing gear.

  The axle was only slightly bent and was still strong enough to stand thestrain of landing in the snow. Tim worked hard to get the lock nut offthe smashed wheel for it had jammed. He finally worked it loose and thendropped the damaged wheel on to the flying field far below.

  The new wheel slid into place and he managed to get the lock nut on. Thewheel wobbled a little but it would permit Ralph to land in safety.

  Tim clambered back into the mail cockpit and motioned for Ralph to land.The pilot brought the mail ship down to an easy landing and taxied up tothe row of hangars where they were met by the impatient managing editor.

  A photographer was waiting and he snapped half a dozen pictures as Ralphand Tim helped Mitchell from the plane.

  The flyer was sent in to town for treatment at a hospital and Tim andRalph accompanied the managing editor to the _News_ office.

  "Don't you want something to eat?" asked Carson as they reached theoffice.

  "I'll wait," grinned Ralph. "If I eat now I'll go to sleep and you'llnever wake me up. I'll write the story first and eat afterward."