Adventure Magazine Cover, June 18, 1921 — page 23: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

When Good Fellows Get Together when he issued orders detailing Pilot Lee ~MacDowell and Observer David Ransom on a flight to El Paso. V THE first faint tints of dawn re- ZB solved themselves out of the gray eastern sky as MacDowell and Ransom, in helmets and leather coats, walked silently from the mess-hall toward the great De Haviland. The exhaust pipes were spurting fire in the half-light as the Liberty roared wide open. Their suit-cases were securely wired, snug against the fusel- age. Tex clambered into the front seat and the mechanic gave him his place after cut- ting the motor to idling speed. More care- fully than usual the pilot tested his motor. It idled sweetly on either switch and a quick inspection showed all gages reading cor- rectly. For a moment he opened it up and then gradually throttled. “Ready?” yelled Tex. “Go ahead,” shouted Ransom from the rear cockpit and in a moment, with two mechanics helping to turn the ship around, they had reached the edge of the small field. The motor took the full glow of gas and sprang into life, carrying them swiftly across the hard surface and then into the air. One circle of the field, and Tex started westward on his eight-hundred-mile trip to El Paso. Ransom could net but admire the fault- less, smoothly effortless way that the man ahead of him handled his ship. Not even the suspicion of slip or skid could he feel as the great plane tilted in steep banks, on its way around the field. Miller and Mallory, with whom he had flown, were good—ex- ceedingly good—but even to a tyro the per- fection of MacDowell’s flying was apparent. Dave settled back to enjoy himself, for he was still new enough to have a passion for flying. The rays of the morning sun shot the ground-mist with golden arrows that painted mysteriously lovely pools of color, and above the sky was turning from gray to blue. He was glad he was going, even if it had to be with MacDowell. Laredo was picked up in good time and their ship was- gassed and oiled in a few minutes. ‘They wasted no time, but took off the airdrome as soon as their ship was ready, to follow the Rio Grande to Del Rio. Another short stop and they were bound for Sanderson where they would stop for lunch. Tex alternately listened carefully to the 13 motor and watched the deserted mesquite wilderness below. The mountains around Sanderson were dimly discernible, their crests shrouded in mist far ahead. The four hundred horse-power Liberty, running with even rhythm at one thousand five hundred and fifty revolutions per minute well within itself, gave no cause for worry, but drove its burden swiftly westward. Just as the little clock on the instrument-board showed twelve noon the Sanderson airdrome sprang into view, looking like a small brown blan- ket spread out at the foot of the mountains. With motor half-throttled Tex pushed the stick forward and to the left and applied some left rudder. In the fastest tight spiral Dave had ever been in, the D. H. cork- screwed downward. Occasionally the mo- tor roared wide open for a minute and the nose came up. ‘Then the ship would tilt steeply, and for a moment they would drop like a shot, sideslipping earthward. Never a skid or a jerk—it was as sure and graceful as if the two-ton bomber were the lightest of single-seated scout planes. A forward slip brought them into the field compara- tively slowly, and the grating noise of the tailskid on the ground was the first evidence Dave had that they had actually landed. As they taxied toward the four canvas hangars, in front of which four ships were already lined up, a little group strolled out to meet them. Tex introduced Ransom to the Army men, but a bow-legged, over-alled civilian whose face was tanned to a mahog- any shade he did not know. ‘Lieutenant MacDowell, meet Mr. Ayres of the Texas Rangers.” It was Captain Merritt, C. O. of the Sand- erson Flight, who made the introduction. ‘So you’re MacDowell of McMullen, eh?” said the ranger, squinting at the flyer with interest in his puckered eyes. ‘None other. Surely the moving pic- tures, that vast new industry, have made his name familiar to you,” put in Cory, a Sand- erson pilot, with a grin. “Tf don’t know much about these here theatrical loominaries,” began the ranger as he cut himself a slice from his plug of chew- ing-tobacco, ‘‘but——”’ “One of the first principles in their treat- ment is quick nourishment and there goes the dinner-bell,” said Captain Merritt. “Let’s go.” “TI want to have a little confab with you, lieutenant,” the ranger said in a low voice COmicloo eS ) (©