The story of the flying reporters and their successful effort to break the ice jam which threatened Auburn was the front page news the next day. Tim and Ralph collaborated in writing the story of their night flights and the managing editor wrote a front page editorial praising them for their heroism and devotion to duty.

A telegram from the mayor of Auburn, in which he expressed the appreciation and gratefulness of the residents of the village, was also printed in a box on the front page.

Dan Watkins, the veteran chief of the copy desk, smiled at Tim when the first edition came off the press.

“Looks like you and Ralph have just about monopolized the front page,” said the gray-haired copyreader.

“I’d just as soon not be there,” said Tim.

“I know, I know,” said Watkins, “but it is all fine advertising for the News. Wonder if you chaps will get a raise or a bonus.”

“I wasn’t looking for either one when I decided to make the attempt,” said Tim. “I only thought of those poor folks in the valley who were faced with the loss of their homes if the jam broke.”

“I know you weren’t looking for personal gain or glory,” replied the copyreader, who had long been a friend and valued adviser of Tim’s. “You do what you think is right; that’s one reason why you are invaluable to the News. Last night the managing editor paced the floor every minute you were in the air. Keep at it, Tim, and one of these days you’ll be the managing editor of some large paper.”

After the noon edition was on the press the managing editor summoned Tim and Ralph to his desk.

“What about the condition of the Good News?” he asked Tim.

“You’ll have to pay for a complete repaint job, Mr. Carson,” said Tim. “The ship was badly scorched and smoked up when we got caught in the explosion over the flaming oil tanks. It ought to have the rigging thoroughly checked to see that nothing was sprung in the hard flying I did the rest of the day.”

“All right, Tim,” said the managing editor. “You and Ralph take the afternoon off, go out to the field, and get a crew started on the repainting. Never can tell when we’ll need the plane in another emergency and it has become invaluable.”

“Then the stories we’ve uncovered in the last year have justified the expense of the plane?” Tim asked eagerly.

“No question about it,” replied the managing editor. “You have done far more than either the business manager or I expected and your aviation column is one of our best news features. The only thing I worry about is that you boys will crash one of these days.”

“Don’t worry about that,” put in Ralph. “There is little danger for we have a good ship and we try not to take unnecessary chances.”

Tim and Ralph went to the administration building when they reached the airport. They found Carl Hunter in his office.

“Hello, heroes,” he called, whereupon Tim and Ralph gave him a good-natured pummeling that left them all breathless.

“Now that the cyclone is over,” smiled the field manager, “I suppose you want something.”

“You’re right for once,” said Tim. “We want you to put a crew on repainting the Good News and checking up on the rigging. Carson said to get it done in a hurry for we may need the ship at any time.”

“I had a hunch you’d breeze in sometime today with a request like that,” replied the field manager, “and I’m one up on you. A couple of painters are waiting in the hangar now. Same color job as before?”

“The same,” said Tim, “and I hope this one will last longer than the one we scorched off.”

“You may not be so lucky the next time you start flirting with burning tanks of oil,” warned Hunter.

“There won’t be any next time,” promised Ralph. “We’ve had our fill of those thrills. No more dodging a chunk of steel that’s intent on destroying us. Honestly, I lived a whole lifetime in that split second.”

Hunter and the young reporters left the administration building and walked to hangar No. 5. The scorched and blackened plane that reposed inside was hardly recognizable as the Good News.

Hunter gave his instructions to the painters and they started cleaning the wings and fuselage preparatory to repainting the plane. Several mechanics were summoned and they set about the task of making a thorough check of the motor and the rigging of the Good News.

When they left the hangar and started back for their car, a raw, wet wind cut through their clothes.

“Feels like another blizzard is getting ready to descend on us,” remarked Ralph as he scanned the sky.

“Weather report says 'continued cloudy’,” replied the field manager, “and I’m hoping it’s right. Another blizzard would raise havoc with us. Everyone of our planes is carrying its capacity of mail and we’re making every possible effort to keep on schedule.”

“Ralph is inclined to be pessimistic today,” laughed Tim. “He’s always predicting a blizzard or cloudburst.”

A clerk ran out of the administration building and called to them.

“You’re wanted on the telephone,” he told Tim.

The flying reporter hurried to answer the summons. When he rejoined Ralph several minutes later his face was grave.

“Something’s in the wind,” he said. “Carson just phoned from the office and wants us to go to town as fast as we can.”

“Have any idea what he wants?” asked Ralph as they climbed into the roadster which had brought them to the field.

“Not a glimmer,” replied Tim. “There is something mighty mysterious. He talked so low I could hardly hear what he said. We’re not to go to the office. Carson will meet us in room 309 at the Hotel Jefferson.”

“Sounds like secret service,” said Ralph.

“That might not be so far wrong,” replied Tim thoughtfully.

Fifteen minutes later the reporters entered the Hotel Jefferson and made their way to the third floor. They stopped at the door of room 309 and Tim knocked.

The door was opened by the managing editor of the News, who motioned for them to enter the room.

There were two men beside the managing editor in the room when Tim and Ralph entered. They were strangers to the reporters and they waited for Carson to introduce them.

“When I introduce these men,” Carson told his reporters, “You’ll know why I had you come to the hotel.”

The managing editor turned to the older of the strangers, a heavy-set, gray-haired man whose eyes were of an unusual, penetrating blue.

“Boys,” he said, “I want you to know Col. Robert Searle, head of the state police department.”

Tim and Ralph felt their pulses quicken as they heard the name of the visitor. The managing editor turned to introduce the second man, who was taller than Searle and younger by several years.

“And I also want you to know,” went on the managing editor, “Captain Ned Raymond of the bureau of investigation of the state police.”

Tim and Ralph acknowledged the introductions and sat down on the bed. They waited for the managing editor to continue.

“These men have called on us for assistance,” explained Carson. “I want them to tell you their troubles and the final decision on what you do will be up to you.”

Colonel Searle moved restlessly.

“I’ve heard a great deal about you boys,” he said “especially in connection with the Sky Hawk. You did great work there but I thought you were older.”

“An older man wouldn’t be as fast, as alert, as Tim and Ralph,” said their managing editor.

“Perhaps you’re right,” agreed Colonel Searle.

“Captain Raymond and I are playing a hunch,” he went on, “and we have both agreed that if this hunch comes true we are going to need your aid. The airplane has placed an entirely new means of escape in the hands of criminals and we must be ready to combat this. With the present economy policy of the state legislature it would be impossible for us to secure funds for the training of our troopers as pilots or for the purchase of an airplane. For that reason we came here today to appeal to your managing editor.”

The head of the state police paused for a moment.

“Interested?” he asked.

“Go on,” chorused Tim and Ralph.

“What we have in mind,” continued Colonel Searle, “is deputising you two for special service. If any emergency arises in which we need an airplane in this section of the state, you would be available. It would also insure your paper of being in first on big news stories.”

“If Mr. Carson is favorable,” said Tim, “you can count on Ralph and me.”

“Just a minute,” put in Captain Raymond. “One thing more. There has been a change in the political set-up in Dearborn and as a result many criminals are going to be driven out of that city and forced to other fields. It will be natural for some of them to transfer their activities to this state. If they come, as we confidently expect, they will be more dangerous than the average bandit. And remember, the Sky Hawk is gone but some of his men are still alive. Through special police channels we have learned that several of them have banded together again and have been operating in and near Dearborn. If they decide to come back this way your mission might be doubly dangerous.”

“They couldn’t be any worse than the Sky Hawk,” said Ralph.

“In that case,” said Colonel Searle, “I consider it an honor and a privilege to appoint you as special and secret members of the state police.”

Captain Raymond produced the records which Tim and Ralph were to sign and in less than five minutes they were in the state police.

Colonel Searle gave them identification cards and the small gold eagle which also indicated their position.

“We may not need you,” said Captain Raymond, “but if things come out as I predict, it won’t be long before part of the Sky Hawk’s old gang will be back. The Hawk is gone, thanks to you boys, but the memory of his methods and daring lives on in the minds of the men who associated with him.”

As the newspaper men prepared to leave, Colonel Searle added a final word of caution.

“Remember, not a word about our meeting here to anyone. If it becomes known in any way, that we have enlisted you as special agents, it might expose you to needless danger. That’s why we had you meet us here instead of in your office.”

Tim and Ralph were the first to leave room 309. In spite of their excitement they did not speak until they were back in their car where their conversation could not be overheard.

“What do you think of it?” asked Ralph.

“Looks like the state police are expecting serious trouble and are getting ready for it.”

“You mean the Sky Hawk’s old gang?”

“Exactly.”

“I thought they were through when we got the Sky Hawk,” said Ralph.

“I had hoped so,” said Tim, “but I guess it was too good to be true. If they do come this way, they won’t have any love for us.”

Ralph looked down at the little gold eagle in the palm of his hand.

“At least we’ll have the power of the state police behind us,” he said.

“And we’ll probably need it,” added Tim.