Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 12, 1927 — page 49: what you’re looking at

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

KERRY man. He had learned them in the hard school of the war, and later, of the air mail; also he had spent a period in barn- storming and “ stunting.” He realized that, at the present stage of the race, with his heavy load of gasoline, the other ship was the faster. It had even outdistanced him in the race thus far, and had turned back and circled behind that cloud until he had come in sight. It was no time for straight flying in the hope that he might escape from his rival. The result was that the residents of a cer- tain little village nestling in the hills along the Hudson River were treated to a wholly unexpected series of stunts as elaborate as any maneuvers ever made by rival planes above a battle-field. The inhabitants had come out of their houses to see the race planes fly by; and they saw far more than they had expected. Many believed that these maneuvers were for some sensational publicity effect. But Glenn Kerry knew that they were for the safety of himself and the Sheldon plane and, more than anything else, the safety of the girl who rode with him. Already he half regretted that he had brought Betty along with him. He throttled the motor and called to her: “ This business looks bad. We’ll have to stunt a little.” Betty actually laughed. what to do, dear,” she called. Kerry flew full speed on with the pur- suing plane on his tail and went into an Immelman turn. A short distance ahead of him he could see a large bridge that spanned the river. He flew straight on, aiming straight at the bridge, swooped and dived full on and zoomed as gracefully as a swallow under one of the arches; then, on the other side of the bridge, started to climb, for he was now dangerously low. He looked back and realized from the stampeding crowd on the banks that some- thing unusual had happened. He guessed what it was, that his pursuer had struck one of the arches of the bridge and had fallen. Kerry climbed to fifteen hundred feet and raced on. His rival had disappeared into the river. The tail skid of his plane “Vou know OF THE ATR MAIL. 525 had brushed the under surface of one of the bridge arches, and the plane of Carson, the dare-devil, crumbled and went down out of control. IX. WitH a terrible sense of foreboding, Philip Hatton had telephoned his hench- man, Weimar, that he would meet him at a certain New York hotel. He refused to lis- ten to any statements of Weimar. At the end of a lengthy series of mis- deeds and long chances, Philip Hatton had grown suddenly cautious. He had ordered his radio operator, Rees, to send out a mes- sage to Carson canceling the previous in- structions, but it had taken him several nervous minutes to think out the code—he had already destroyed his code book—and Rees complained that he could not raise Carson. Hatton had then had the radio outfit taken out of evidence, told Rees he was through for the day, and had started to New York. He met Weimar at the appointed place. The two engaged a room, and ordered a bell boy bootlegger to procure certain de- sired refreshments for them. It was not until then that the whitefaced Hatton would speak or would listen to his chief aid. “Well?” he asked, when they were in- side and the door locked. “One of our planes still in the race,” an- swered Weimar. ‘“ Garret’s plane. Carroll broke an oil lead over eastern Pennsylvania. And, of course, you know about Carson.” “T don’t know about anything!” replied Hatton sharply, putting down his whisky glass. ‘‘I came over here in a beeline. I saw the crowds before newspaper offices, and all that. But I was afraid to stop and ask. What about Carson?” “Carson died in a hospital up the State. He crashed into a bridge over the Hudson. Tail skid hit one of the arches.” “ And how about the Sheldon plane?” “Still going, according to last accounts. Garret’s in the lead, though, with our new model. Christensen plane’s next, quite a piece in the rear. The two Caldwells bunched together about twenty miles, be- hind. Kerry and the girl in the Sheldon, COPNICLOOKS (C@)