Jane had secretly wondered just how she would feel when the plane soared into the sky. After the experience of the night before she feared that a numbing fright might grip her and she was greatly relieved when there was no feeling of apprehension.
Instead, she thoroughly enjoyed the smooth upward flight, the pulsating power of the great motors, and the panorama unfolding beneath. She turned to look at Sue. Her companion was gripping the arms of her chair tightly, her eyes bright and staring straight ahead. When Jane started to speak to her, she shook her head, but Jane watched Sue closely for the next few minutes.
Gradually Sue relaxed and a little later she leaned over and spoke to Jane.
“I was fighting down a little bugaboo of fear,” she grinned. “I knew if I didn’t conquer it all by myself, I’d never be able to do it. Now I’ll never be afraid to fly anywhere and anytime.”
Jane thought that statement was a little bold, but she hoped it was true.
Keeping to the right of the broad Platte, they sped westward with the speed indicator wavering between 115 and 120 miles an hour for there was only a slight head wind dropping down from the far-away Rockies.
North Platte appeared ahead and Jane consulted the map of their route. North Platte was a regular passenger stop, but they were running as a special, and the plane dropped over the southwestern Nebraska city. Here the Platte forked, one branch swinging northwest while the South Platte continued almost straight west.
The shining steel of the Union Pacific rails caught the sunlight far below and Jane saw the smoky plume of a transcontinental limited threading its way westward. The plane soon overhauled the train and left it far behind. They were too high for any of the girls to wave. The country became rougher, more desolate, and the few farms looked drear and beaten down by the buffeting of the elements.
They passed north of Sidney and not long afterward Jane knew they were in Wyoming.
It was just north of Pine Bluffs that Jane got her first glimpse of the Rockies. The air was clear and the visibility excellent. Far away to the west and south she saw the snowy summit of what she was later to know as Long’s Peak and other lesser mountains reared their heads into view.
Jane touched Sue’s arm, and called her attention to the beauty of the distant scene. Together they watched, breathlessly, the great vista of the mountains.
It was not long after that until a good-sized city came into view to their left and Jane, looking at the altimeter, knew the plane was nosing down. This, then, must be Cheyenne, the chief operating base for Federated Airways’ transcontinental line and the city which was to be the headquarters of the stewardess service.
The tri-motor swung over the sprawling, one-time pioneer city and dropped down on the airport, which was a little more than a mile north of the city.
Jane was astounded by the size of the field and the largeness of the hangars which flanked the side nearest Cheyenne. At first glance it seemed almost as large as the field at Chicago.
They rolled into an immense hangar, behind which towered the brick building which housed the administrative offices of the Federated Airways. It was here that Jane and Sue were to go to school before they went into active service.
Miss Comstock led them through the waiting room, into the administration building and down to a new, one-story wing which had just been completed. Drawing a key from a pocket, she unlocked the door and turned to the girls.
“This new wing was built especially for the stewardess service. There is a classroom, a complete kitchen and commissary, lockers, lounging room and shower. I’m sure you’ll like it.”
Jane stepped into the lounging room. It was delightfully furnished in wicker and the walls were a soft grey with rose-colored drapes at the full-length windows which looked out upon the field.
The commissary, lined with cupboards for the storage of supplies, was in silver and blue, and arranged to gladden the heart of any girl. The sinks were of stainless steel and the large tables at which the lunches would be prepared were of a similar material.
They went on to the classroom, which reminded Jane of a similar room she had attended so many times at Good Samaritan. A score of study chairs were in the room and one whole wall was given over to a blackboard while on another wall was complete map of the entire Federated Airways system.
“We’ll have our first class right now,” said Miss Comstock, “since I want to give you instructions on obtaining rooms in Cheyenne.”
The girls sat down, Sue, Alice and Grace grouped around Jane.
“As you know, headquarters of the stewardess service will be here,” went on Miss Comstock, “and you are to regard Cheyenne as your home. It will be necessary for you to find suitable rooms and you will be required to pay for these out of your regular salary. However, when you are at the other end of your trip, the line will see that you are properly domiciled.”
She paused for a moment as she picked up a sheet of paper from her desk.
“I have made a survey of rooms in Cheyenne,” she continued, “and have approved all of the rooms listed below. They are in excellent homes, the rates are reasonable and I am sure you will find any of them pleasant. I want you to take the remainder of the day to locate your rooms and see something of Cheyenne. We’ll start actual classwork tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. Now, if you will consult me individually, I will make room recommendations. Cars owned by the line will take you into the city.”
Jane turned toward Alice and Grace.
“I think it would be nice if we could obtain two large rooms and you two would live with Sue and me. It might cut down our room rent and with four of us living together, some one would be home most of the time.”
“My vote is yes,” replied Grace.
“You can make it unanimous,” smiled Alice. “I only hope we’ll be assigned to about the same runs so we can be at home at the same time.”
When Miss Comstock called her name, Jane stepped forward and explained their plan.
“Of course I have no objections,” said the chief stewardess. She looked at the list of prospective rooms on the sheet of paper in her hand.
“I think I have just the rooms for you. Mrs. Dennis Murphy has two fine rooms and a sleeping porch adjoining. She is a widow and anxious to get roomers.”
Miss Comstock wrote Mrs. Murphy’s address on a slip of paper.
“Go there first. If you don’t like Mrs. Murphy’s, telephone me here and I’ll give you some more suggestions.”
The girls found a field car waiting outside the main entrance of the administration building and the driver sped them toward the city.
Mrs. Murphy lived on a side street in a square, two-story frame house. The yard was well kept and a broad, shady porch ran the full length of the front of the house.
“I’ll wait until you know whether you’re going to stay,” said the driver.
Jane seemed to be the self-appointed leader of the group and she hurried up the walk and knocked at the screen door.
“Come in,” called a cheery voice from somewhere in the interior. Jane hesitated for a moment.
“Go on in,” Sue urged, so Jane opened the door and crossed the porch.
“I’m in the kitchen with me hands in bread dough,” explained the voice, in a rich, heavy Irish brogue and Jane knew that Mrs. Murphy in person was at home.
A long hallway led past the living room and the dining room into the kitchen, a large well-lighted room.
Mrs, Murphy, buxom and ruddy of cheek, looked up as Jane entered. Her hands were deep in bread dough.
“Well, goodness sakes alive,” she exclaimed when she saw Jane. “If I’d known it was a stranger, I’d have answered the door. I thought it was Mrs. McGillicuddy down the street, come to borrow something, for she’s always running in of a morning, being short of this or that, and having to have a bit to get along until the delivery boy gets around.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right, Mrs. Murphy,” smiled Jane. “I’m one of the new stewardesses for the Federated Airways. There are three other girls here with me. We’re looking for two double rooms and Miss Comstock at the field recommended you.”
“Now that’s right nice of her. She was here last week looking at my rooms and seemed to like them real well. If you’ll wait a bit until I finish kneading down the bread, I’ll take you right up. Just make yourselves at home on the porch.”
Jane rejoined her companions and informed them that Mrs. Murphy would be out as soon as the bread was safe.
Sue looked around the porch. Everything was well-worn but comfortable.
“After three years in a hospital this is luxury,” she said, sinking down into a broad rocker.
“From the little talk I had with Mrs. Murphy in the kitchen and the smell of things cooking in her oven, I think this will be a grand place to live,” said Jane.
“Maybe we’ll be lucky enough to get some fresh bread and have bread and sugar,” suggested Grace, looking longingly toward the kitchen.
In less than five minutes Mrs. Murphy, wearing a fresh apron, appeared from the dim shadows of the hallway. Jane introduced each of the girls.
“I’m happy to know you,” Mrs. Murphy told them, and they felt that she really meant it. There was something homey and warm about Mrs. Murphy that touched the heart of each one.
She led the way upstairs and to the rear of the house where two adjoining rooms opened onto a large sleeping porch. The rooms were large and airy, the beds were comfortable and the furnishings, though plain, were adequate.
From the porch there was an excellent view of the distant mountains. Mrs. Murphy explained that the bathroom was just down the hall and that her only other roomer was the cashier of a downtown department store.
The telephone, ringing insistently, summoned Mrs. Murphy downstairs and gave the girls an opportunity to talk about the rooms.
Jane went back to the sleeping porch to enjoy the view of the mountains. Her mind was made up and she was quite willing to stay with Mrs. Murphy.
“There isn’t a whole lot of closet room,” said Grace, “and the furniture is rather plain.”
“But the rooms are large and pleasant and the sleeping porch will be grand,” said Sue.
Alice, who had been exploring the bathroom, brought back good news.
“The bath is fine. Lots of room, a huge tub with a shower, and two lavatories with plate-glass mirrors.”
“Then I call for a vote,” said Sue.
“Mine is yes,” said Jane, returning from the porch. Grace, Alice and Sue added their approval as Mrs. Murphy came puffing upstairs.
“We like the rooms,” Jane told her. “How much is the rent?”
“I’ve been getting $40 a month,” said Mrs, Murphy, “but times as they are, I’ll rent them now for $32. That would be $8 apiece and, of course, there’s the privilege of doing your laundry in the basement.”
“How about meals?” asked Alice.
“I haven’t been taking boarders for a year, but I guess I haven’t lost my hand at setting a good table. It could be arranged.”
“Then I think the price for the rooms is fair enough,” said Jane. “A driver with a field car is outside. We’ll bring up our bags and our other luggage will have to be shipped in later.”
By the time they had unpacked their bags, it was well past lunch time and the delicious odor of freshly-baked bread floated upstairs from the kitchen.
“That makes me realize that I’m really hungry,” confessed Sue. “I wonder how far it is to the nearest restaurant.”
From below came Mrs. Murphy’s pleasant voice.
“Lunch is on the table, girls. It’s not much, but it will save you a trip down town.”
They trooped downstairs to find the dining-room table set with appetizing food. There was a large plate of bread, so fresh from the oven it was still warm, and a bowl of honey. Wisps of steam ascended from a large platter of hash at one end of the table while at the other was a bowl of fresh cottage cheese. A glass of milk was beside each plate and a platter filled with fruit centered the table.
“This is grand of you, Mrs. Murphy,” said Sue.
“I’m going to have bread and butter and sugar,” cried Grace. “It’s been ages since I’ve had a treat like that.”
Mrs. Murphy eased her motherly bulk into the chair at the head of the table and smiled happily at the evident relish with which the girls ate lunch. There was no question about their having found pleasant quarters for their home while in Cheyenne.
The following days were busy ones for Jane and her companions. Long hours were passed at the field in the classroom and in the commissary where the girls underwent an intensive period of training.
Miss Comstock was an exacting teacher, but a fair one and she was almost universally popular with the girls. Only one, Mattie Clark, seemed to resent the strict discipline which the chief stewardess imposed.
Mattie, a black-haired, dark-eyed girl, answered Miss Comstock sharply on several occasions. Once the chief stewardess reprimanded her recalcitrant pupil before the entire class. Later Mattie vowed that she would gain revenge.
“What do you think of Mattie’s attitude?” asked Sue as she stood outside the administration building with Jane, Grace and Alice.
“It’s only going to cause trouble for Mattie,” replied Jane. “Miss Comstock is fair. She’s got a hard job in preparing a bunch of new girls for this work, but I think she’s doing it well.”
“She gets pretty cross at times,” put in Alice.
“You would, too, if you were asked as many dumb questions as she is,” retorted Jane.
Just then Mattie joined them. She was still resentful over the reprimand from the instructor and was grumbling to herself.
“That skinny piece of baggage isn’t going to bawl me out in front of the class and get away with it,” she told them, her black eyes snapping. “I’ve got some pull in the Federated Airways front office and I’m going to use it. Maybe Miss Comstock will be working for me some day.”
“Well, what do you think of that?” asked Sue as Mattie left them.
“Mattie’s partially right. That is, she has some influence in the Chicago office. Her uncle is publicity director for Federated, but I don’t believe she’ll ever be able to cause Miss Comstock any real trouble,” was Jane’s opinion.
“Mattie has dreams of being chief stewardess,” explained Grace. “She told me the other day that she could certainly do a better job of handling this group than Miss Comstock.”
“Well, I’m putting Mattie down as a thorough trouble maker and the less I see and know about her the better I’ll like it,” said Jane firmly.
“I’ll paddle right along with you,” added Grace. “Mattie isn’t headed in the direction I like.”
The girls had been too tired at night to even think of attending a show before but that evening they walked down town and enjoyed a movie. On the way home they stopped for sodas and it was late when they reached Mrs. Murphy’s. Jane was surprised to see their landlady waiting for them.
“It’s about time you were getting in,” she exclaimed. “The field has been calling every fifteen minutes. Miss Comstock wants you to telephone her right away. Next time you go to a show, let me know where you’re going.”
“Oh, I’m sorry it was so much trouble,” said Jane.
“’Twas no trouble,” smiled Mrs. Murphy, “but the field has been very anxious to locate you.”
Jane hastened to the telephone and put in a call for the airport. A summons at that time of night was puzzling for class work was over hours before and none of the girls had been assigned to regular duty. That was to come day after tomorrow, when the final minor alterations on their uniforms had been completed and the last test passed.
The other girls crowded near the telephone, all of them anxious for the news from the field.
The operations office answered promptly and Jane gave them her name. The night manager poured his message into her ear in a staccato too fast for the other girls to hear. Jane tingled all over as she listened and her reply was mechanical.
“I’ll be there right away,” she promised.
“Where are you going right away?” demanded Sue.
“Chicago,” smiled Jane, turning from the telephone and dashing upstairs two steps at a time.
The other girls raced after to find Jane in her room already pulling off her dress.
“Sue, get my uniform out,” begged Jane as she struggled with her dress, “and Grace, see if you can find those new smoked-grey hose in the top drawer of the dresser. Alice, run some water in the tub. I’ve got to be at the field in twenty minutes.”
“But what’s it all about?” Sue insisted as the girls rushed to help Jane.
“There’s a special plane from the west coast going through to New York with Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, who is worth a billion or so, aboard. It’s on a fast schedule for she is rushing to New York to the bedside of a son who is seriously ill. Salt Lake radioed that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was anything but comfortable and the general manager has ordered a stewardess aboard to see what can be done to make her happier the rest of the way to Chicago.”
“How lucky!” exclaimed Sue. “Why, you’re getting the first assignment and you’ll be flying nearly two days ahead of any of the rest of us.”
“I’m not so sure I’m lucky,” replied Jane as she splashed vigorously in the tub. “Any woman who has as many millions as Mrs. Van Verity Vanness is bound to be mighty particular. It would be just my luck to have her sick all of the way in and have a complaint lodged against me.”
“But if she likes you and the service, she’ll probably give you a real compliment,” said Sue.
“And maybe a present,” added Alice.
“Now you’re all getting too far ahead,” protested Jane. “I’ve got to get to the field first of all.”
When Jane returned to her room, the girls had her uniform all ready for her to step into. The smoke-green serge fitted Jane snugly and the beret perched at a pert angle on her brown hair. She adjusted the seams of the new hose and slipped into dark grey pumps which were a part of the uniform. With deft fingers she centered the green tie of her shirt-waist and stuck a fresh handkerchief in her left coat pocket. Quick touches with the powder puff removed the shine from her nose and she gave her hair a final pat just as the horn on one of the field’s cars blared outside.
“Stand still a minute,” begged Sue. “I want to get a good look at you.”
“There’s no time for a dress rehearsal,” smiled Jane, but she turned around slowly so the others could see her in the complete outfit.
“You look grand,” whispered Grace. “Every pilot on the line will be in love with you before morning.”
“I won’t see every pilot,” retorted Jane.
“Maybe not, but they’ll hear about you,” Grace insisted.
In the smoke-green uniform Jane was indeed an attractive figure. The coat was cut smartly and there were fashionable box pleats in the skirt. The beret, set at a jaunty angle, had only one ornament, a pair of silver wings. Shoes and hose to match the suit completed the ensemble.
Jane took a final glance in the mirror. What she saw there was pleasing and she ran downstairs, the others following her closely.
“I’m off on my first trip,” she called to Mrs. Murphy, who was reading in the front room. “I’ll be in Chicago tomorrow morning.”
“A safe trip, bless you,” called Mrs. Murphy, who had taken an exceedingly motherly interest in the girls.
“Will you bring us back if we go to the field?” Alice asked the driver of the airport car.
“Sorry, Miss, but I’m through in fifteen minutes. This is my last trip to town.”
“Just our luck,” grumbled Alice. “You’ll have to start off on your first trip without an audience,” she told Jane.
“I’d like to have you there, but maybe I won’t be quite as nervous if I am alone,” admitted Jane. She entered the cab and the driver closed the door.
Sue stuck her head through the lower window.
“When will you be back?” she asked.
“I haven’t the slightest idea. Not until day after tomorrow at the earliest.”
The cab lurched ahead and with the goodbyes of her friends ringing in her ears Jane started for the field and her first assignment.
The airport was ablaze with light when the car pulled up at the administration building, which meant that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness’ special plane was about to land.
Jane thanked the driver and hastened into the operations office on the first floor. A teletype was clicking out the latest weather reports and the radio operator was busy giving the pilot of the special plane final information on the wind and visibility at Cheyenne.
Miss Comstock, who had been talking to the night chief of operations, turned to Jane.
“I was afraid we weren’t going to locate you,” the chief stewardess said, visibly relieved at Jane’s arrival. “This is an important trip and I knew I could count on you to make a good impression.”
The night operations chief joined them.
“This special is going through ahead of everything,” he told Jane, “and we can’t have it delayed if Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gets air sick and they have to slow the schedule or set the ship down at some field to wait until she feels better. In other words, it’s up to you to see that she is so comfortable from now on and so busy she won’t have time to think about complaining.”
“Is she ill now?”
“Salt Lake said she looked like a ghost and Rock Springs just cussed when I asked him how she looked. One thing, we’re going to get that special off this field and from then on it’s up to you to see that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness holds together until we land in Chicago.”
Charlie Fischer strolled in and glanced at the weather report coming in on the teletype.
“Plenty of visibility and a good tail wind. I’m going to take that three-engined demon up where there’s plenty of room and ride it for all it’s worth. You can put me down for about 160 miles an hour from here to Omaha,” he told the night operations chief.
“If you can do that, you’ll whittle better than half an hour off the schedule we’ve worked out,” said the night chief.
Charlie turned to Jane.
“It’s my first regular trip.”
“Means extra ballast,” grumbled Charlie.
“Extra ballast nothing,” retorted the night chief. “Our billion-dollar passenger is air sick and unless we put a stewardess aboard and get Mrs. Van Verity Vanness feeling better pronto, this flight will be a washout and about $10,000 will fly out of this airway’s sock and you can imagine how the general manager would like that.”
“You mean we’re getting $10,000 for this trip across the country?” asked Charlie incredulously.
“She paid before she started the trip in ’Frisco, but if we don’t land her in New York on time she’ll stop payment on the check. So when you’re in the air tonight just bend an ear to whatever this little lady has to say, for if you do some rough flying and the G. M. hears about it, one Charlie Fischer will have a lot of explaining to do.”
“The special’s coming in right now,” called the radio operator. They turned to the full-length windows which looked out on the field. The wing lights of the plane were swooping down and a moment later the big ship rolled down the runway and nosed toward the hangar.
“I’ve got a complete kit ready,” Miss Comstock told Jane. “There’s plenty of salad and hot coffee, fresh fruit, and I put in an extra thermos bottle of bouillon. I imagine your passenger is nervous and scared as much as anything. Make her comfortable and talk to her. Remember that the reputation of the stewardess service may depend on your work tonight.”
Almost before the tri-motor had stopped rolling the ground crew, enlarged to speed the refueling of the special, was swarming over the plane. Only five minutes had been allowed for the Cheyenne stop and it meant fast work on the part of every man.
Jane and Miss Comstock hastened toward the cabin. As they reached it the co-pilot threw open the door.
“For heaven’s sake, hurry,” he begged. “I’m afraid this woman is going to faint.”
Jane got a glimpse of the white, drawn face of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she knew that she was going to be in for some busy minutes. The landing stage was wheeled up to the plane and Jane hurried into the cabin. The one passenger aboard the special was clinging to the co-pilot and Jane gently disengaged her arms and placed them about her own shoulders.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sobbing softly. “I’ll never be able to go on. I’m too ill.”
Jane didn’t argue with her, but with the aid of Miss Comstock, helped the passenger out of the plane and into the cool, sweet night air. It was then that she got her first good look at the woman she was to care for on the trip to Chicago.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was between sixty-five and seventy. The cheeks were still full and bore few wrinkles, but the hands gave away the fact that Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was well past middle age.
“I can’t walk. Don’t make me,” she begged.
“We’ll only take a few steps,” said Jane, her own strong arms supporting the older woman. “Breath deeply and enjoy the air. Don’t think about flying.”
“But I’ve got to get to New York.” There was a sob in the older woman’s voice, and she shuddered as she looked at the hulking tri-motor. Even a thought of returning to the plane struck terror into her heart.
Jane turned to Miss Comstock and whispered a suggestion.
“Don’t let them start the motors until I give the signal,” she said. “It may take quite a while to get her calm, but once she’s back in the plane I think I’ll be able to manage.”
Miss Comstock nodded and hurried away while Jane guided her elderly passenger toward the stewardess’ quarters. There, well away from the rush and confusion of the hangar, she made her comfortable while she put a pot of tea on the electric grill in the commissary. Within five minutes Jane had tea and wafers ready on a silver tray. She talked gaily about everything except flying and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness began to show a new interest in living. The tea was delicious and the wafers were appetizing. The wealthy passenger of the special drank two cups of tea and ate five of the wafers.
Jane heard a tap on the window and looked up to see Charlie Fischer making horrible faces at her and pointing toward his watch. The tri-motor was at least seven minutes late now. Jane must do something at once.
She picked up the tea tray and started for the commissary.
“If you could go with me, I might attempt to continue the journey,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “I can’t bear the thought of going on alone.”
“But I am going with you,” replied Jane. “Didn’t they tell you?”
“No. Those pilots only flew faster and faster and I got sicker and sicker.”
“We’ll let them fly as fast as they want to,” smiled Jane, “just as long as they have smooth weather. There’s a delicious lunch, late papers and some magazines aboard the plane now. We’ll return to the hangar, make ourselves comfortable in the plane, and tell them to go ahead. We’ll be almost ten minutes late leaving here.”
“I’ll go on,” agreed the woman of millions, “but only because you are going with me.”
Without showing too much haste, Jane shepherded her passenger into the tri-motor. Charlie Fischer, still looking at his watch, gave her a black look as he climbed into the cockpit.
Jane made Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable in chair No. 6, and then stepped back to the door where Miss Comstock was peering in. “Everything all right?” asked the chief stewardess.
“She’s perfectly calm now,” replied Jane. “I’m sure we’ll make Chicago all right.”
“The general manager is fairly burning up the radio trying to find out about the delay here.”
“You can tell him that it took us the extra time to persuade Mrs. Van Verity Vanness to continue the trip,” said Jane.
“Good-bye and good luck,” said Miss Comstock as she closed the door. Jane made sure that the door was latched securely, stowed the hamper of food away in the pantry, and then hastened up to take a seat beside her passenger.
The motors roared and the plane quivered to the pulse of their power. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness paled as the plane rolled forward, but Jane took the hands of the elderly woman and held them in her own. Almost before they knew it the plane was in the air, streaking away into the east in the race to make up the lost time.
The lights of Cheyenne faded rapidly as Charlie Fischer gunned the big transport hard. Jane, watching the air speed indicator, saw it climb from 110 to 130. It hovered there for several minutes and then started climbing again. In less than fifteen minutes they were up 7,000 feet and with a good tail wind boomed along at better than 150 miles an hour.
Jane looked at her elderly companion. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had her eyes closed tightly and Jane spoke to her reassuringly.
“It’s a long ride to Chicago,” she said. “Suppose we look through some magazines. Then we’ll have a cup of bouillon and sandwiches just before midnight and after that I’ll tuck you in for the night.”
“Tuck me in for the night?” asked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “Why, I’ll never be able to sleep.”
“I think you will. You can unfasten your safety belt now and I’ll see what I can find in the way of magazines.”
Jane returned a minute later with half a dozen copies of the latest magazines. She adjusted the reading light for her companion and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, seeing Jane so calm and casual, forced herself to overcome the fear of flying which had sickened her. She selected a magazine from the armful Jane offered and settled herself comfortably in her seat.
“I’m really commencing to enjoy it,” she smiled, “but there’s a bit of a draft around my feet.”
Jane hurried back to the compartment where a supply of warm, woolly blankets were kept. Selecting a pretty grey and pink one she wrapped it around the elderly woman’s legs. With Mrs. Van Verity Vanness comfortable and apparently satisfied for some time, Jane opened the Cheyenne paper.
She halfway expected to find a front page story on the dash across country of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness in a special plane for almost any activity of this multi-millionaire widow was worth a half column of space. Instead, Jane read the alarming news that a mail plane had been robbed early that morning by aerial bandits. The ship, a Bertold single engined plane, had been shot down in southeastern Iowa on the Kansas City to Chicago run and more than a hundred thousand in currency taken from the registered mail pouch which it carried. The pilot had been seriously wounded by the two bandits, who had used a machine gun to force the mail ship down.
Jane resolved right then and there to keep all of the papers away from Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. If aerial bandits were operating, it was entirely within the realm of possibility for them to attack a special chartered by a woman as wealthy as her companion.
The tri-motor hurled through the night, the speed increasing as Charlie Fischer pushed it up another thousand feet to benefit by an even stronger tail wind at that altitude. They roared along at between 165 and 170 miles an hour, nearly 50 miles above the usual cruising speed of a plane of that type.
Below them winked the revolving beacons which lighted the transcontinental airway at night. Occasionally they sighted the dim gleams from some prairie town.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness let the magazine drop into her lap as she closed her eyes, now thoroughly relaxed and without fear of anything happening to the plane. It was 11:30 and Jane leaned over and spoke to her companion.
“I’ll bring the bouillon and sandwiches right away. Then you can go to sleep.”
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness nodded contentedly and Jane went back to her pantry.
The bouillon, golden brown, smelled delicious as it gurgled out of the thermos jug and the sandwiches were almost paper thin with a tasty filling of olives and salad dressing.
Jane put the lunch on a silver tray and carried it into the cabin where she placed it on a small portable table which she had put between the seats.
“Several hours ago I thought I’d never be able to eat again,” smiled the woman of millions, “but this actually appeals to me.”
Jane agreed, for Miss Comstock had personally prepared the lunch and it should be delicious. The bouillon was expertly flavored and the sandwiches were the kind that made even the daintiest eaters hunger for more.
When the last sandwich had disappeared and the second cup of bouillon was only a memory, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness leaned back in her chair and smiled happily.
“You’re a wonder,” she told Jane. “I think I’ll ask the company to send you clear through to New York with me.”
“Our division only goes to Chicago,” replied Jane, “but I’d be delighted to go on if the general manager approves.”
“I think he’ll approve if I ask it. After all, I’m paying almost enough for this trip to buy one of their planes.”
Jane removed the luncheon dishes, brought another blanket, adjusted the seat at a reclining angle and tucked Mrs. Van Verity Vanness away for the night.
“We’ll land at North Platte, Omaha, and Iowa City,” she said, “but there’ll be no need for you to disturb yourself. I’ll inquire for messages at each stop and waken you if there is any news.”
In less than five minutes Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was sleeping soundly and Jane went back to her pantry to stow away the dishes she had used for their midnight lunch.
The flasher which signaled that the chief pilot wanted to talk to her came on and Jane walked ahead, careful not to disturb her passenger. The stewardess made her way past the baggage compartment and stuck her head in the pilots’ cockpit.
Charlie Fischer looked down at her.
“How’s our famous passenger?” he asked.
“Sound asleep,” replied Jane, “and she’ll stay that way until morning if you’ll use a little care in landing and taking off.”
“I’ll drop this crate down like we were carrying eggs,” promised Charlie, “but don’t you let her out of the plane. Next time we may never be able to get her back on board.”
Jane returned to the cabin where the only light was the one over her seat at the rear. Her passenger was sleeping soundly and Jane sat down and relaxed.
The last two hours, from the time she had received the call to rush to the field, had been filled with a nervous tension. Handling Mrs. Van Verity Vanness had required real tact and patience and Jane had been so busy she hadn’t had time to remember that this was her first trip as stewardess. Up until now she had rather looked upon herself as a trained nurse called in to care for a nervous, irritable woman.
At better than 8,000 feet the air was chilly even in the summer and Jane got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She didn’t dare sleep for fear Mrs. Van Verity Vanness would waken and call her.
Jane had hardly settled down to rest when the lights of North Platte appeared far ahead and the throbbing of the motors eased off. Charlie Fischer set the plane down without a bounce and they rolled into the hangar.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness roused slightly and Jane told her they were in North Platte. The stop there took just a little better than four minutes and Jane learned that there were no messages for her passenger. Then they were booming east again with the next stop at Omaha.
Jane settled down in her chair, wondering if her passenger had been serious when she mentioned taking her on to New York. What a lark that would be and how the other girls would talk. Jane could just imagine Mattie Clark turning almost green with envy.
The pilot found the favoring wind again and they sped from North Platte to Omaha in record time for the big tri-motor. At the Omaha field reporters were waiting for the plane and Jane was forced to go to the waiting room and answer their questions, for Mrs. Van Verity Vanness refused to see them,
For five minutes she fended off the questions of the newspapermen, answering those she was free to.
“Better look out for the aerial bandits,” they warned her. “Think of the ransom they could demand if they captured your passenger?”
“Haven’t they been captured?” asked Jane.
“No. They vanished after bringing down the mail plane in southeastern Iowa. The last report said that they had been heading west. Of course, that was early yesterday. They’ve landed at some out of the way field.”
Jane thanked the reporter and turned back to the tri-motor, glad to get away from her questioners lest she show them how much she was disturbed. With the newspapers now broadcasting the cross-country dash of the wealthy Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, Jane knew that the special was not safe with the aerial bandits still at large.
Just before the tri-motor wheeled off the ramp at Omaha, the radio operator at the field hurried up with a message. It was from New York, informing Mrs. Van Verity Vanness that her son was slightly improved and was looking forward to her arrival at his bedside.
The little woman of the many millions looked at Jane through tear-dimmed eyes.
“He’s my only son,” she said. “He means so very much to me.”
Jane nodded. She could understand, for in her years of training at Good Samaritan she had seen mother love put to many a severe and heart-breaking test and she knew how deep in a human soul it penetrated.
Reassured that her son was not losing ground, Mrs. Van Verity Vanness dozed again as the plane raced over western Iowa.
Jane went ahead to the pilots’ cockpit and leaned close to Charlie Fischer.
“The airplane bandits are still at large,” she told him.
“I know it,” he said. “We got a special warning at Omaha. A strange ship was sighted over the Des Moines field half an hour ago and it answered the description of the bandit craft. Two army planes that were making an overnight stop at Fort Des Moines have gone up to see if they can trace it.”
“Keep a close watch. I’ve got nearly a billion-dollar piece of humanity in the cabin.”
“Orders are to land if we run into trouble.”
“But that would mean the capture and holding of Mrs. Van Verity Vanness for ransom,” protested Jane.
“That’s better than having us all shot down,” snapped Charlie. “You just mind things in the cabin and I’ll run this end of the ship.”
“Well,” said Jane with finality. “If I were a pilot and a bandit plane attacked me, I’d give them a real race before I landed.”
Charlie started to reply but the co-pilot grabbed his arm and pointed over to the right. The lights of a plane, coming rapidly toward them, were plainly visible.
Charlie looked at them for a second and then snapped off the wing lights of his own plane. “Get back into the cabin and turn off the lights there,” he roared at Jane. “Here comes trouble.”
“How do you know?” asked Jane.
“There’s no other ship but our own on this division tonight and those lights coming toward us aren’t the riding lights on a night hawk.”
Jane departed on the run, and snapped off the light in the cabin. It would be dawn in another half hour, but for the coming thirty minutes the tri-motor, running without lights, had a chance of escaping the other plane.
The motors labored under a full charge of gas as the big ship rocketed along at 170 miles an hour. Once or twice the needle on the speed dial mounted above the 170 mark, but Charlie couldn’t hold it there.
Jane watched the lights of the other plane. They didn’t appear to be any nearer. Perhaps the bandits, after spotting their quarry, would be content to wait until dawn and then make a quick thrust.
The stewardess wondered if the pursuing plane was radio equipped for even as she left the pilots’ cockpit, the co-pilot had been pouring out a warning of their danger.
It was nerve-racking business as Charlie Fischer piloted the tri-motor with all of the skill of his big hands. In and out of clouds they dodged, now at 8,000 feet, and again at 6,000, but always the relentless pursuit was with them. The sky lightened and Jane knew that the crisis was near. She wanted to go ahead and talk with Charlie and the co-pilot, but she didn’t dare leave her passenger.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness yawned and threw off the blanket which had shielded her shoulders. She sat up and looked out into the gray light. Jane answered her summons.
“We’re having company,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness, pointing toward the other ship, a black biplane, which had drawn near.
Jane didn’t dare tell her the truth about the other plane.
“Just some pilot up early,” she said lightly, but her heart was far from feeling that way.
Their own plane dove sharply, and Mrs. Van Verity Vanness gasped and clutched the arms of her seat.
“The morning air is a bit rough at times,” explained Jane reassuringly, but she knew all of the time that the quick dive had been a maneuver of Charlie’s to give them more time. She wondered about the army planes which had taken off from Des Moines. If their radio was working, they should arrive soon.
“The pilot of that plane’s acting queerly,” said Mrs. Van Verity Vanness. “He seems to be waving at us.”
The light was better and Jane looked at the black biplane. Mrs. Van Verity Vanness was right. They were being waved down and Jane’s heart went sick as she saw the snout of a machine gun sticking over the nose of the other craft. If Charlie refused to comply with the order, it was plain they would be the target for machine-gun bullets.
Jane looked at the altimeter with sinking heart. They were down to 7,000 feet and dropping lower steadily. She scanned the country below for some sign of a city. There were plenty of small towns within range, but no large ones where an adequate police force could be assembled to aid them.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness did not appear alarmed. Charlie stalled at 5,000 feet and Jane saw the pilot of the other plane wave at them angrily.
It was agonizing, for Jane knew that once they were on the ground there would be no chance of escape. Her passenger would be whisked away in the black plane, to be held for a fabulous ransom and a desperately ill man in New York would be without the sympathy of his mother at his bedside to help him through his illness.
They were down to 3,000 feet and Charlie Fischer was hunting a good place to set down when death roared down out of the sky.
Two army planes, their machine guns spitting flame, hurled themselves at the black biplane.
Motors roaring wide open, pilots tense at the triggers, the avenging army craft arrived just as Charlie nosed the tri-motor down for a landing.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness watched the scene with startled eyes and Jane’s heart pounded doubly fast.
The bandit plane was trapped between the army ships. Bullets ripped through the wings of the black craft as the pilot tried desperately to maneuver into position where the gunner in his forward cockpit could get his weapon into action.
“What does it mean?” gasped Jane’s passenger.
“It’s a bandit plane that shot down a mail ship early yesterday in southeastern Iowa,” explained the stewardess.
“But why was it following us? This plane had no mail.”
“It had you, which was vastly more important.”
“Ransom?”
Jane nodded.
“How long have you known we were in danger?”
“Ever since we caught sight of the black plane. We had a description of it at Omaha and were warned by radio to be on the lookout.”
“But you didn’t say a word to me.”
“There was no need to alarm you.”
The army planes were closing in on their quarry, darting in and out as the pilots directed blasts of fire at the bandit craft. The aerial desperadoes knew that they could hope for no quarter and they made one final attempt to escape, heading their plane in a mad dive toward one of the army ships.
But the dive laid them open to the fire of the second army flyer, and he plunged down from above, his machine gun spitting flame. Bullets traced through the wing of the black biplane, shattering the propeller. Then the left wing of the biplane tore loose and the ship fluttered aimlessly for a moment before nosing down for the final plunge.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness cried out in horror and Jane placed her hands over the older woman’s eyes. Finally the passenger turned from the window and looked at Jane.
“You’re a brave, sweet girl,” she said. “Now I think I’ll rest again.”
Neither one mentioned the aerial duel they had witnessed as the special roared on to the pace of its quickened motors.
Jane prepared breakfast and while her passenger sipped the hot chocolate, the stewardess went up to the pilots’ cockpit.
“Some dog fight,” said Charlie Fischer. “Those army boys showed up just in time.”
“I suppose I should say it was terrible,” said Jane, “but knowing what those bandits would have done to my passenger, I feel they got just what was coming to them.”
“They had time to repent all of their sins on the way down,” admitted Charlie. “Say, we’re skipping Des Moines. Got plenty of fuel to take us to Iowa City.”
When they landed in the eastern Iowa city, another message from New York reassured Mrs. Van Verity Vanness and she read most of the way into Chicago.
When they rolled up to the ramp of the Chicago field, Jane suggested that her passenger step out and walk a bit.
“You’ll feel much better,” she assured her.
Mrs. Van Verity Vanness agreed and Jane assisted her out of the plane. Reporters were clamoring at the gate, but a cordon of police kept them from the field.
Charlie Fischer grinned as he went by.
“I’m going over and be a hero,” he chuckled, nodding toward the cameramen and reporters, who were hungry for the story of the escape from the bandits.
The short, stocky figure of Hubert Speidel, personnel director of Federated Airways, emerged from the crowd and came toward them. He beckoned to Jane and she left her passenger for a moment.
“Everything all right?” asked the personnel chief anxiously.
“She seems to be enjoying the trip now,” replied Jane, “but she wants a stewardess to continue with her.”
Just then Mrs. Van Verity Vanness took matters into her own hands.
“I presume you are a company official,” she said, addressing the director. He nodded.
“Please inform your general manager that I insist upon this young woman accompanying me to New York. She has done everything possible to make me comfortable and without her assistance I would have been unable to continue from Cheyenne.”
“But Miss Cameron’s division ends here,” protested the personnel chief. “We’ll have to put another stewardess aboard here.”
“I don’t care a snap about divisions,” said the woman of millions. “I want this stewardess. Remember, there are other lines east of Chicago.”
The personnel director promised to do what he could and hastened away. He was back in less than five minutes.
“It’s a little irregular,” he said, “but Miss Cameron can go through to New York with with you.”
Fresh supplies were brought out and placed in the pantry, Jane checking each item, for they would have lunch at noon aboard the plane and possibly a light supper just before they reached New York.
A new crew of flyers took charge and exactly fifteen minutes after landing, the special roared away, with an entire nation watching its progress, for newspaper presses were spewing out extras by the thousands, telling the story of the attempt to abduct Jane’s passenger.