The good will planes were swarming in from the west. In another minute there would be a dozen of them circling over the airport and with his own ship able to manoeuvre with only the greatest difficulty, Tim knew that the arrival of the other planes would add more complications to their plight.

The Good News was wavering unsteadily. At any moment it might slide into a spin in spite of all that Ralph could do to keep it on an even keel. Then it would be curtains! But not if Tim could help it. He was determined to reach the dangling wire if it was humanly possible.

The flying reporter started his body swinging. Ralph screamed at him for the Good News was careening from side to side. But Tim kept on, his body swinging out from the side of the plane like a great pendulum, its swings ever lengthening.

Tim clutched at the broken wire; missed by inches. The next time he’d make it. He had to, he told himself, for every second was precious. They couldn’t smash up in the crowd below. He swung again, his fingers outstretched in an effort that wrenched every muscle in his body. He touched the dangling wire, but it slipped through his hand. Then a movement of the plane placed it within his reach again and he gripped the wire between his finger-tips. He heard Ralph’s triumphant shout as he tightened his grasp on the wire and felt the plane nose downward, but the world was dancing before his eyes. The strain was intense as he hung on like grim death, his left hand holding and controlling the aileron wire, his other hand and foot anchored to the fuselage.

Down they circled, Tim mechanically manipulating the aileron. Truly he was “riding down” from the clouds. He’d read about it being in the war but had hardly believed it possible. Now he was actually accomplishing the feat and getting away with it—maybe. They weren’t down yet. Could Ralph turn the trick and make a safe landing? It would require real skill and a keen judgment of distance and speed.

Tim glanced back at his chum and Ralph nodded reassuringly. He knew as well as Tim that if he landed too hard Tim would be bounced off the plane and even an Irishman, and a reporter at that, doesn’t like to be thrown from a plane landing at a speed of seventy miles an hour.

Ralph straightened out and headed for the field. Tim steadied himself and uttered a prayer as they dropped closer to the ground. They were over the edge of the field and nosing down fast. Tim glanced at the crowd—a sea of upturned faces. He gave the aileron a final jerk and shut his eyes.

Bang! Crash! Bump! And they were down. The shock of the rough landing threw Tim against the fuselage and he clung there like a plaster. Ralph managed to taxi the Good News across the field and brought it up in front of the announcer’s stand and they tumbled down. Above them the sky was alive with planes. They had turned the trick just in time.

Before the crowds surrounded them and swept them toward the announcer’s stand, Tim had a second to examine the aileron wire. The break was clean-cut; no frayed ends to indicate an accident due to normal wear and tear. The only thing that could have caused a break like that was a sharp file wielded by spiteful hands.

Tim was so mad he couldn’t talk but by the time they found their managing editor, he had cooled down somewhat. They explained what had happened and then Tim swept Ralph off his feet when he told Carson about his discovery of the filed wire.

“I’m not going to accuse anyone right now,” said the flying reporter, his eyes pin points of anger, “But when ‘Daredevil’ Dugan lands he’s going to tell me what I want to know or he’ll get the worst beating he ever had.” And Tim, moved by emotion, looked fully capable of carrying out his threat.

Tim and Ralph were called to the announcer’s stand where they were introduced to the crowd and the master of ceremonies briefly related how they had ridden down from the clouds. A great roar of applause swept over the crowd and Tim was genuinely embarrassed at the ovation.

As soon as they could get away, Tim and Ralph slid out of the stand, and lost themselves in the crowd.

“Have you seen Dugan land?” asked Tim.

“He came in about five minutes ago and is well down toward the other end of the field,” replied Ralph. “He’s slated to do his daredevil stuff right away so we’ll have to hurry if we want to catch him.”

They made slow progress through the packed mass of humanity and were not more than halfway down the field when the loud speakers blared out an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” boomed the metallic voice, “you will now see ‘Daredevil’ Dugan, the prince of thrills, in an aerial exhibition which is without peer.”

“It’ll be an exhibition without peer when I get my hands on Dugan,” muttered Tim as he heard the motor of the Daredevil’s plane come to life. There was no chance of reaching Dugan before he started so Tim and Ralph crowded their way to front line places.

Dugan’s little biplane shot down the field. The tail flipped into the air and the under carriage sailed clear. Then Dugan bounced his ship up and down as he sped alone, never more than five feet above the ground. It was old stuff but mighty dangerous, especially if the motor failed.

The crowd was yelling and milling excitedly as Dugan’s plane neared the fence on the far boundary. Tim wondered how long Dugan would wait before he nosed his ship up. Then he caught his breath for the daredevil was living up to his name.

The biplane shot skyward but Dugan had waited a fraction of a second too long. There was the sharp crashing of wood and to the crowd’s amazement and horror, Dugan left his landing gear hanging on the fence. But probably no one was more surprised and startled than the daredevil himself.

Alive to the emergency, Tim forgot his personal feelings toward Dugan and with Ralph at his heels pushed his way to the announcer’s stand. There he found a group of perplexed and worried officials who were looking on helplessly while Dugan cruised over the field. The crowd recovered its breath, and, mob-like, got all ready for a real thrill when Dugan landed.

Tim cornered Clyde Bennett, the owner of the great tri-motored monoplane which had been on the good will tour. Tim’s plan won Bennett’s hearty approval and together they explained it to the officials. Several hesitated but “Spin” Beeker acclaimed it the only way to avert tragedy. When he presented that angle of the situation, the other officials immediately gave their consent. They didn’t mind giving the crowd its share of thrills, but at the same time they didn’t want tragedy to play a major role in the events of the day if it was humanly possible to prevent it.

While Tim and Bennett warmed up the motors of the great transport plane, Ralph went in search of rope. He was back in less than five minutes staggering under his load. They boosted the coils of manilla into the cabin of the big ship and Tim, who had been delegated to handle the controls, was just taking his place when the fiery little managing editor of the News arrived. Carson had gotten wind of what was in the air and was thoroughly aroused. He collared Tim and Ralph.

“You’re crazy,” he yelled. “I won’t let you go on such a foolhardy trip. You’ll all get killed and I can’t afford to lose two of my best reporters.”

“You’re crazy yourself if you think we’re not going,” shouted Tim in reply. “Some one’s got to help Dugan down. They say he isn’t carrying a parachute. And besides,” he suggested, appealing to Carson’s nose for news, “it will make a great story for the paper.” The managing editor weakened and waved them on. Ralph banged the door of the cabin and Tim fed the fuel into the eager cylinders of the tri-motor. He was mighty glad now that he had taken a course in handling big ships at the flying school.

While they were gaining altitude, Tim scrawled a note, weighed it down with a wrench, and tied it to a stout, light cord. In less than five minutes they were over the daredevil’s plane. Ralph pushed open a window in the cabin of the transport and paid out the cord to which the note was attached. A moment of jockeying and the note was in Dugan’s hands. The daredevil tore it from the wrench, read it hastily, and then waved his understanding to his rescuers.

The two planes forged westward, gradually gaining more altitude. They wanted plenty of room and the sun at their backs when they started to give the 25,000 spectators on the ground the greatest thrill of the day—a thrill that would surpass anything on the scheduled program. Five miles west of the airport they swung around, their tails to the setting sun.

Dugan’s crippled plane was a little ahead and above the tri-motor. The air speed indicator in the big monoplane pointed to 80 miles an hour. Tim took a fresh grip on the controls while Ralph and Bennett made sure that their ropes were ready.

The gap between the two ships gradually closed. Tim was handling the great tri-motor like a veteran.

The daredevil’s plane was now just ahead and a few feet above him. Dugan was looking back at the monoplane and handling his own little plane with the skill of a magician. They were almost together; then Dugan’s plane was hidden by the great wing of the tri-motor. Tim moved the controls slightly and held his breath. The monoplane rose gently, there was a rasping bump as the daredevil’s ship, minus its landing gear, settled on top of the great gray monoplane.

With a shout, Ralph and Bennett swarmed out of the cabin and onto the wings. While Dugan nursed his motor carefully and kept his ship plastered tight against the wing of the tri-motor, the other two lashed the little biplane down. In the cockpit of the big ship Tim was fighting with his controls.

Carefully Tim pushed the big gray bird along while the men on the wing hurried to complete their task. A careless maneuver, and the biplane might be dislodged and brush them into space. After an eternity for Tim, they scrambled into the cabin with news that they had done everything possible to lash the damaged plane.

Again it was up to Tim. Slowly the tri-motor drifted earthward. Perhaps Tim was the only one of the four who fully realized their new danger and he kept his own counsel and nerved himself for the task ahead. But he couldn’t help wondering whether the damaged plane was lashed securely. If there was very much slack in the ropes the ship above would bounce when they landed, smash through the great wing and crush them in a trap that would carry them to their deaths at sixty miles an hour, their landing speed.

While the others were laughing over the thrill of the trip, Tim held their lives in his hands. He was tired, dead tired. The good will trip had been fatiguing and the strain of his sensational landing earlier in the afternoon had taken more of his strength than he had realized. But it was too late now to turn the controls over to Bennett. They were at the edge of the field. Tim killed speed with every trick on the list. The roar of the crowd came to his ears as the tri-motor, with “Daredevil” Dugan’s plane resting on top, passed overhead.

The ground loomed before Tim’s tired eyes as he swung around into the wind for the landing. The shadows of late afternoon were deceptive and his eyes burned from the strain. He felt himself slipping, losing control; then with a mighty effort he came back. The lives of the other three in the plane, as well as his own, depended on his skill. And he couldn’t crack up in front of that great crowd! Tim gave the controls a final twist and placed his trust in the guardian angel who looks after flyers. The heavy under-carriage smacked the ground. Tim heard the wing creak and groan in protest at the weight of Dugan’s plane. Involuntarily he ducked.

But the wing held and Tim brought the tri-motor to a stop a little past the middle of the field.

When Tim reached the door of the tri-motor he found Dugan waiting for him.

“Quick, Murphy,” said the daredevil. “Come around to the other side. I’ve got something I must tell you.”

When they reached the far side of the tri-motor, Dugan burst forth in voluble explanation.

“Blandin ordered me to crack you up on the tour,” he explained. “That’s why we almost crashed at Newton. When I didn’t get you then, I filed the aileron wires on your ship. I’ve got to get out now, skip the country. I failed to get you and Blandin will break me in two if he ever finds me. Thanks for saving me just now. I’ll repay you some day.”

Before Tim could answer, Dugan had slipped away and was lost in the crowd which had surged through the police lines and gathered around the tri-motor. Tim and Dugan were to meet again but under circumstances that even Tim hardly would have believed possible.