“If there are mountains about it’s always best to climb.” Sparky set his plane to reach higher altitudes. When at last he felt the push of strong winds behind him he said:

“The storm took us over the mountains all right.”

“That’s something to be thankful for,” said Mary.

“Yes, but we’re still more or less lost.”

This, they discovered, was truer than they had thought, for the cold or the push and bang of the storm had damaged their radio. Try as she might, Mary could raise no one.

For a time, flying by instrument, Sparky flew across what he hoped was low, level land. Since he could not be sure of this, he still flew high among the thick clouds.

When at last, in desperation, he dropped lower and lower until they were dangerously close to the earth, they found themselves still in a dense formation of clouds.

“Where are we?” Mary asked.

“Somewhere over China.”

“The part held by our own people or by the enemy?”

“There is no sure way to know. Here, take the ship. Let me at that radio. We’ve just got to get it going.”

Whether this was a “must” or not did not appear to matter. The radio was dead and apparently would remain so.

To make matters worse the shadows within the plane grew darker with every passing moment.

“Night,” Mary thought. “Night over a strange land.”

Night settled down and still they cruised on. From time to time, they came down close to earth, often too close, in the hope of finding a break in the clouds, of spotting a landing beacon. No break was found, no light appeared.

“Our position is growing desperate,” Sparky said at last. “Our fuel is running low. In less than a half hour we’ll be obliged to make a blind landing and that, well—you know—”

Yes, Mary knew. There was no need for her to answer.

“I think I’d better get the ship aloft then let the rest of you take to parachutes.” Sparky’s voice was husky. “For better or worse, this looks like journey’s end.”

“Yes—yes, I guess you’d better let Hop Sing use his parachute. It will be safer for him.”

“Yes, and for you.”

“Not so much better, Sparky, perhaps much worse for me if we’re over enemy territory. I’m staying with the ship.”

“Okay. It’s your life. I can’t live it for you.”

For a little time they were silent. “About time to do a little climbing.” Sparky shifted his controls.

“Sparky! What was that?” Mary cried sharply.

“What was what?”

“A light!”

“I didn’t see any light.”

“Yes, there! No, now it’s gone! Yes! Yes, there it is! By the nose of the plane!”

“Yes, I saw it!” Sparky seemed unimpressed.

“But look, Sparky!” she exclaimed. “Look at the radio antennae. They’re like neon tubes! They, they’re burning up! Sparky! What’s going to happen? Is the ship on fire?”

“Not so you can notice it.”

“But, Sparky! Look! There’s a ball of fire on the ship’s nose—big as a Fourth of July balloon.

“No—no! Now it’s gone! But, look! There’s a flash right across the propeller blades!

“Say! We can begin to see things!” she was fairly beside herself. “I just saw a house and a clump of trees.”

“The clouds are lifting,” said Sparky. “There may be a chance—”

“Yes—there’s a road. It’s broad and white, must be cement.” Mary grabbed Sparky’s arm. “Sparky! we’re going to be safe. We’ve been saved by some kind of miracle!”

“Miracle, my eye!” Sparky grumbled, as he set his ship for a try at landing on that road. “If I don’t hit it right on the beam,” he said grimly, “we’ll crash and that means like as not that this whole trip has been made for nothing.”

“No, not for nothing. Don’t forget, there’s the quinine!”

With balls of fire rolling all over the plane and with their landing lights on for a space of seconds, they hit that hard road, bounced, hit again and again, then began to glide. Just before the ship came to a stop, the right wheel left the road to bury itself in soft mud.

“Nice thing to do at the very end!” Sparky growled. “If we’re in enemy territory we’re in a bad way!” Snapping off the lights, he headed for the door.

All the strange, rolling balls of light were gone. About them it was dark as a subway when the lights are off.

“Sparky,” Mary insisted as her feet hit the pavement, “it was a miracle! You don’t dare say it wasn’t!”

“Oh! Can’t I!” Sparky squeezed her arm. “At least I’m bound to try. That, my dear Mary, was what they call St. Elmo’s Fire.”

“St. Elmo’s Fire!”

“Sure! It’s a form of electrical disturbance. I picked it up once when I was half way across the Atlantic. The scientists say it’s harmless. Probably they’re partly right, but I claim that a thing that scares you to death can’t be entirely harmless.

“And now,” he added, “since we’ve put one more ghost to rest, let’s find out where we are.”

“Hop Sing,” he called.

“Right here, Mr. Sparky.”

“Hop Sing, this is your country, China. Where are we?”

“Can’t tell—me. I go see. Mebby quick find somebody who live here, then quick find out.”

The stump-stump of Hop Sing’s crutch faded into the distance. After that, by the plane, for quite some time there was silence.

“Sparky, I’m tired,” Mary said at last. “I hope we can get to the end of our trip soon.”

“Don’t hope too much,” he cautioned. “We wandered about in the sky a long time and that storm may really have taken us places before it let us down.”

The darkness was something to brood about. The big plane loomed like a shadow above them. It seemed a long time before they again heard the stump-stump of Hop Sing’s crutch. As it came closer Mary became conscious of another sound. It was like the wind rustling through dry leaves. Or was it a shuffling sound?

Before she knew it she found herself surrounded by silent, shadowy forms and Hop Sing was talking in a hoarse whisper to Sparky.

Hop Sing’s report was both astonishing and terrifying. They were twenty miles behind the Jap lines. The road on which they had landed ran parallel to the lines. That was why on a dark night like this there was no traffic. Men, ammunition and supplies going to the front traveled a road, some fifteen miles away, a road that crossed this one.

The shadowy forms about them were Chinese, men, women, and children. These astonishing people had hidden in the mountains until the battle lines had swept over them. Now, still hiding in holes and cellars, they were back near their homes.

“Most surprising of all,” Sparky whispered to Mary, “a half mile down this road, and off to one side, there is a small airfield.”

“An airfield! Didn’t the Japs destroy it? Or do they use it?”

“Neither. They know nothing about it. It’s a turnip patch, just now.”

“A turnip patch!”