Adventure Magazine Cover — page 175: what you’re looking at

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

There and Back edge he zoomed and turned. His ship dis- appeared from sight northward less than four hundred feet from the ground. Duke cocked a speculative eye at the dark clouds less than.a hundred feet above him. There was a twenty-mile wind on his tail, and being close to the ground the sensa- tion of speed was tremendous. Louisville, sprawling largely on both sides of the big bend in the Ohio, was part- ly in his path. He cut over the southern corner of the city, grinning down at the open-mouthed people who clogged the streets. He was flying so low—of necessity —that his Liberty was probably making an ungodly noise from the standpoint of the people below. Louisville was left behind in five minutes, and he began to hit rough country. Ten miles northward he could catch occasional glimpses of the Ohio. It would be wiser and safer to follow the Ohio, but it would lose time. A few drops of rain spattered on the ' wind-shield, but only for a moment. The clouds seemed to be forcing him downward, however. He was flying now with his head over the side of the cockpit for better visibility. He passed a hill, the crest of which seemed only a few feet beneath him. “This is getting to be close,” Hemingwood without emotion. He’considered turning northward toward the Ohio, but decided against it. He could net get to Dayton before 12:30 as it was, and by the time he procured the necessary supplies and got home it would be late enough without losing any more time. There was a dance that night at the Officers’ Club. Suddenly the mist ahead darkened. He pulled back on the stick sharply—it was the side of a hill. Up and up went the ship barely scraping the tops of the great trees that clothed the slope. ‘The speedmeter needle wabbled downward to seventy, then sixty-five miles an hour, and the big ship hung quivering in the air. Hemingwood cursed calmly, and nosed over just the instant before the ship would have fallen off into‘a spin. He cleared the top of a tall row of trees, and,set himself for a crash. Then— = if that wasn’t the top!” he con- gratulated himself. His ship was gradually picking up speed, reflected 165 flying level, and there seemed to be no further slope upward. The mist was thick- ening, however, or rather the clouds. He was only fifty feet from the tree-tops, and was as high as the fog would allow him to go without getting out of sight of the ground. A wide valley opened before him. Just as he saw it the ship hurtled into a huge black cloud that held rain, for in a second struts, wings and motor were covered with moisture. His goggles fogged, and he wiped them hastily as he nosed over. The roar of the engine strengthened and the wires began singing a higher-pitched tune. : lucky that valley was there,’’ he opined to himself as he came in sight of earth again. The floor of the cut between the hills was a couple of hundred feet below, he esti- mated. He took time for a look backward. Woodruff’s face was drawn and set, and his knuckles showed white as he gripped the cowling with both hands. Hemingwood grinned below his wet mustache. The pho- tographic man did not return it. There were a few clearings—small and rough—on the bottom below them. An occasional plowed spot appeared on the slopes on either side. The valley lay exact- ly on their course, as the compass proved. The motor fired like clockwork. Every ‘Instrument read correctly, and with a care- freé heart Hemingwood glanced down at a few motionless people in front of a small cabin. As he was watching them a spurt of fire from the rifle in the hands of one of the men sent the pilot into the heartiest laugh he had had for many a day. *“Moonshiners, by !? he shouted aloud, although he might as well have whispered it. He could not hear his own words above the noise of the motor. ‘These mountaineers sure love the gov- ernment—not!”’ he reflected. He leaned forward and stroked the motor cowling. “Nice little motor, nice little motor,” he said, his face a wide grin. | He leaned his head out the side of rhe cockpit to take a look ahead. It was lucky he did. At a speed that was sickening the De Haviland was rushing toward a hill, which closed the end of the valley tight as adrum. To make matters worse, the slopes on either side were converging. Even as he thought, the wooded walls drew so close NOOK C@