  Everything went well with Linda Carlton and Helen Tower on that first lap of their flight in the autogiro from Chicago to Spring City, in Ohio. The weather continued fine all afternoon and the “Ladybug’s” motor droned on in perfect rhythm. It was not yet dark when Linda made her landing in the field behind her own house. Helen was wildly excited at the idea of seeing the Carlton home; for the time being she had forgotten her terrible disappointment at the loss of her money. In the calm happy hours of the flight her faith in the goodness of the world had been restored. She believed that somehow, some way, Linda Carlton would succeed in the end. “Why, your place is as big as our old house!” she exclaimed. “All except that extra wing—and the tower. But so different! So beautiful!” Linda smiled; she too had always admired her charming home. She unlocked the door, and after they had both washed and eaten some supper which Linda ordered sent in from a delicatessen store, the aviatrix spent the rest of the daylight going over her engine. She wanted everything in perfect shape to start again on their journey at six o’clock the next morning. She took the opportunity, however, to call her aunt on the telephone, and enjoyed surprising her with the news that she and Helen were sleeping in her own home that night. When the alarm clock rang at five-thirty the following morning, Linda could not believe that day had really come. Then, as she sleepily crept out of bed, she glanced out of the windows, and saw the reason for the total lack of light. The skies were cloudy! “Just our luck!” she muttered. “The day we have to fly over the mountains!” “Hadn’t we better wait awhile?” suggested Helen, sleepily; “to see if it clears up?” “We daren’t,” replied Linda, gravely. “If we don’t get to Virginia to-day, there won’t be any use of going at all. Mr. Tower will surely be off for England to-morrow.” At these words Helen became wide awake, and recalled the importance of their flight to her, and she dressed quickly, even insisting upon getting the breakfast, while Linda filled her autogiro with gas and oil from a supply which she kept at home. While Helen packed sandwiches and filled the thermos bottles with water for their lunch, Linda hunted an old rain coat and some extra clothing from the closets. Her own slicker was packed in the “Ladybug,” but Helen would need something if they ran into the storm. They made their start about half-past six, before it was actually raining. Linda made good time across Ohio and West Virginia, keeping steadily onward, bearing to the southeast, in spite of the light rain that was falling. Neither girl wanted to land for lunch, so Helen fed Linda sandwiches and water from the passenger’s cockpit. The aviatrix’s one idea was to cross the Allegheny Mountains before the storm grew too intense. But it was not to be, for as she came to the hills, Linda saw that she was running right into the storm area. All about her was grayness; she could not see land anywhere, and in this mountainous region, her altimeter was not an infallible guide. In the effort to play safe she directed the “Ladybug’s” nose upward, to keep clear of the mountains, but here the wind was intense, sending the rain into their faces, delaying their progress. Never, she thought impatiently, had she been flying so slowly. It was impossible to make headway in the face of this wind. At this rate, they would be too late; they could not hope to reach the coast before nightfall! Desperately deciding that she must take a chance for once, she dropped her autogiro several hundred feet. The relief was immediate; the winds were far less intense, and her progress became more rapid. But she must watch carefully, she warned herself; in this obscurity she could not tell how near to the ground she was. At that moment she was far from the earth, just as her altimeter intimated, for she was flying over a valley. But she could not know that it was a valley—at least not until it was too late! Even to Linda’s watchful eyes the disaster came suddenly. In an instant the mountain seemed to be rushing at her, with the same inevitable force that Ed Tower’s car had run into Helen. With a gasp of horror she shut off her power, praying that the rotors would break the fall. The plane hovered a moment, for it had not been going fast, and began to descend on the side of that mountain. But it was too close to it; a moment later it crashed against the hill, with an impact that threw both girls from their cockpits. Linda jumped to her feet immediately, unharmed except for some bruises, and dashed over to her companion who was lying in the bushes, still unable to understand what had happened. “Are you hurt, Helen?” Linda cried, fearfully. How dreadful it was that everything seemed to happen to this poor child! Now, if some bones were broken, in this lonely place far away from doctors and hospitals, there would be little chance for the girl’s recovery. Linda shivered with fear as she knelt down beside her. But Helen sat up and smiled reassuringly. “No, I’m all right, Linda,” she said. “But what happened?” “We bumped into a mountain,” returned Linda, laughing in sheer relief. “It’s this awful weather—I couldn’t see where I was going.” “Is the ‘Ladybug’ wrecked?” “I don’t know yet. I haven’t examined her. I was too much scared about you.” Helen stood up. “Well, come on, let’s look and know the worst. I guess it’s good-by to my money now.” Linda did not reply, but dashed back to the autogiro to examine it for damages. The propeller was all right, and the rotor blades—thank goodness—for evidently the “Ladybug” had struck on her side. But one wheel and one wing were damaged. “It doesn’t look so bad,” remarked Helen, as she watched Linda anxiously. “Can you make it fly again, or shall we have to stay here the rest of our lives?” Linda laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, somebody’d rescue us before that. Ralph Clavering, probably—Aunt Emily told him just where we were going. But that isn’t going to be necessary, because I can fix it.” “Can you really, Linda? Even that broken wheel?” demanded the girl, in awe. “Yes. I carry an extra wheel and material to mend the wings. But it’s going to take time.” Helen’s smile faded; she knew what this meant. They would be too late to catch her uncle! “Well, it can’t be helped,” she remarked, with a sigh of resignation. “We’re lucky that we got out alive.” Linda looked about her, surveying the landscape. It was a lonely place, with no house anywhere in sight. Trees and bushes covered the mountainside sparsely, and below in the valley a stream was running. But there was no shelter anywhere from the storm. “I’m going to get right to work,” she announced to Helen, “and you better see what you can do about making a fire. If you go up the mountain farther, under those thick trees, you may be able to find some dry wood. And then we can get warm and make some hot tea for our supper.” “Supper?” repeated Helen. “It isn’t time for that yet, is it?” “No, not yet. But I’m afraid I’ll be a good while fixing the ‘Ladybug.’ We’ll have to make the best of it.” Helen nodded, determined to be a good sport and not to make things any harder than was necessary for Linda. After all, it was for Helen’s sake that the brave young pilot had risked this flight over the mountains in the storm. She would do her part to make the older girl as comfortable as possible. She spent the rest of the afternoon collecting wood and clearing a dry spot under the trees for their camp fire, and she managed to cook supper from a can of baked beans which Linda had in the autogiro. What light there was—for it was still drizzling a little and the skies were gray—was fading when Linda, tired and dirty, announced that she had completed her task. “That supper certainly smells good,” she said, as she used a little of their water to wash her hands. “And I’m starved!” “So am I,” agreed Helen. “Are you really finished, Linda? Do you think the ‘Ladybug’ will fly again?” “I hope so,” replied the aviatrix, seating herself beside the fire and taking the plate of beans which Helen offered. “My only difficulty will be to get her started. There’s no place for a take-off.” “I never thought of that. I believed that an autogiro could start anywhere.” “Well, not quite anywhere. There must be a little runway,” explained Linda. “But I think the two of us together can push her over to that road—at least it’s supposed to be a road, I guess—if we go carefully. Will you help me after supper?” “Of course,” agreed Helen. “It isn’t much of a road—I was looking at it this afternoon—but at least it’s clear of bushes. But do you really think we can make it?” “I hope so. There aren’t any trees in the way. If there had been any in the spot where we hit,” she added, “I don’t suppose we should be alive to tell the tale.” Helen shuddered. “You do have the most marvelous escapes, Linda!” she remarked. Then she looked grave. “But all on account of me. What a peaceful summer you would have had, if you hadn’t happened to see my accident.” “My summer has been fine!” Linda assured her. “And I should have been flying somewhere, anyhow—and probably would have met with other adventures. I don’t like things to be slow, you know.” The girls finished their supper, and as soon as they had cleared up and put out the fire, they started upon their dangerous task of getting the “Ladybug” out of the underbrush. For a time it seemed as if it were going to be impossible, but by digging up some bushes, and removing some rocks in its path, they finally got her started. The difficulty then was to stop her, but Linda carefully applied her brakes, and finally they managed to reach the road. It had grown dark by the time they had finished, but the rain had ceased and they felt well pleased with their success. Hot and tired and damp with perspiration and the recent rain, Linda sat down on the wet grass for a rest. “Let’s take a swim, Helen,” she suggested. “I see a stream down in the valley. Then we ought to be able to get some sleep, so long as it’s stopped raining. We can spread our slickers on the ground.” “Sleep!” repeated the other girl in dismay. “Aren’t we going to fly?” Linda shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear,” she replied, gently. “But I’m not going to risk it. I don’t know where we are, and these mountains are too unfamiliar for me to try it on a night like this, particularly when I’m so tired, and I haven’t even tested the ‘Ladybug.’” Helen nodded; she saw the wisdom of Linda’s decision. They were probably too late now, anyway. This was Thursday night; they must have lost all chance of catching her uncle before he sailed. The mountain stream was shallow and cold, but it felt good to Linda after her hard afternoon’s work. She waded about until she found a place deep enough to lie down, and here she relaxed with content. But it was too cold to stay in the water long, and fifteen minutes later, with renewed energy she began to build a new fire, down by the stream, away from the autogiro. By this time her young companion was exhausted; when she made a feeble effort to help Linda with the fire, the latter commanded her to spread out her slicker and go to sleep. An hour or so later, when Linda’s fire was burning brightly, the clouds dispersed and the stars shone out in the sky. With a contented sigh Linda sat there for a long time, until the fire had burned out, and the mountains looked black and forbidding. She could not help wondering about them; they were so deep and silent in the night. What strange creatures might live there? Were there any dangerous animals prowling about, to molest these two lonely girls? The thought made Linda shiver for a moment, and she rose abruptly to her feet, determined to get her revolver out of the autogiro. Her sudden movement brought a quick response from the woods. A black, shadowy creature appeared from behind a tree only a dozen feet beyond her, and she involuntarily cried out in terror. Oh, why hadn’t she thought of that revolver sooner? She hadn’t even a stick to protect her if this was a bear or a wolf, sneaking up in a nightly attack in search of food. Her cry wakened Helen, who shot up from the ground as if she had been hit. “What is it, Linda?” she demanded, her voice hoarse with terror. “A bear, or a ghost?” “Neither—” returned the other, vexed with herself for her fear: “It’s—it’s—a deer! And look—Helen—he’s running for his life! He’s much more afraid of us than we are of him!” Helen sighed in relief, but she still clung to Linda’s arm. “Come and sleep beside me,” she urged. “The next visitor may be a lot worse!” “I’ll be prepared for the next one,” asserted Linda. “With my revolver, my knife—and a stout stick!” But though she put all these weapons beside her, Linda had no use for them that night, and both girls slept soundly until the sun wakened them the next morning. |
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