The Sky Trail by Graham M. Dean
Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
The Sky Trail
_By_ GRAHAM M. DEAN
Author of _Daring Wings_ _Circle 4 Patrol_
THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING CO. CHICAGO
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COPYRIGHT 1932 THE GOLDSMITH PUBLISHING COMPANY Made in U. S. A.
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THE SKY TRAIL
CHAPTER ONE
Gray clouds of winter hung over the city as the noon edition of the_Atkinson News_ roared off the press.
Tim Murphy, famous young flying reporter and aviation editor of the_News_, pecked away half-heartedly at his typewriter trying to write astory about a minor automobile accident that had happened a few minutesbefore in front of the _News_ building.
The raw, damp weather and the lead-colored sky had a depressing effecton Tim. He felt earthbound, restless, and he longed to soar through theclouds in the _Good News_, the trim, fast biplane owned by the paper.
"What are you looking so gloomy about?" asked Ralph Graves, who had beenTim's flying companion on many an aerial adventure.
"This weather is enough to give anyone a grouch," replied Tim. "Here itis, almost spring, and we have to get a week of sloppy weather thatspoils all our plans. That job of overhauling the _Good News_ andinstalling the new motor will be done today but it won't do us any good.With weather like this we won't get any flying assignments."
"I know just how you feel," sympathized Ralph, "Ive been out chasing thefire trucks on a couple of chimney fires and I've slopped through allthe mud and slush I'm going to for one day. Gosh! But I'd like to hopover a few clouds in the _Good News_."
The telephone on Tim's desk rang and he turned to answer. He was smilingwhen he swung back and faced Ralph.
"Dash off your copy," he said. "Carl Hunter, the manager at the airport,just phoned that the _Good News_ is ready for a test flight. If we cutlunch this noon we'll have time for a short hop. What say?"
"Don't ask foolish questions," grinned Ralph. He hurried to histypewriter where his fingers were soon beating a tattoo on flying keysas he wrote the story of the fires.
Ralph finished his story, turned it in at the copy desk, and was on hisway to rejoin Tim when a deep rumble shook the building.
"Earthquake!" shouted one of the copy boys as he dove under a desk.
The windows rattled in their frames and the entire building shook as theterrific noise continued. Then a great pall of black smoke could be seenmounting skyward. The building ceased its trembling, the copy boyscrambled out from under the desk and the telephones voiced their sharpcries.
Tim was the first to answer. From his attitude others in the news roomsensed some major disaster. The managing editor, George Carson, humandynamo of the paper, ran to Tim's desk and leaned close to the receiver.He could hear the words which were being shouted into the transmitter atthe other end of the line.
The managing editor turned to Ralph.
"Run to the composing room," he cried. "Tell them to stand by for anextra. The storage tanks on the Midwest Oil Company property west oftown have caught fire and are exploding."
Ralph waited to hear no more, but ran to the composing room where hegave the managing editor's message to the foreman. Then he hurried backto the editorial office.
Tim was scribbling a bulletin for the extra with one hand while helistened to the first report of the explosion.
Five or six men were missing. They might have been caught in the firstblast or perhaps they had escaped and were too excited to report theirsafety.
The managing editor took the story as fast as Tim could write it, wrotea new banner line for the front page, and rushed the copy to thecomposing room.
"Who's talking?" he asked.
"One of the mechanics from the airport," said Tim. "The storage tanksare only a mile and a half from the field and he saw the first one letgo. A man from the oil company is at the field now and they are gettingthe story from him."
"Is the _Good News_ in condition to fly?" asked the managing editor.
"Just got word a few minutes ago she was ready to test," replied Tim.
"Is it safe to go up on a picture assignment for photos of those burningoil tanks?"
"If you'll pay for all the paint I scorch off the plane," said Tim.
"We'll pay for it," cried Carson. "Take Ralph with you and get all thepictures you can. We'll want them for the city final. And whatever youdo, don't let your motor cut out when you're over those burning tanks."
"If it does you'll have to look for two new reporters," chuckled Ralph.
Tim turned the telephone over to another reporter and they stopped onlylong enough to get a camera and make sure that it had a plentiful supplyof plates.
The editorial office was in an uproar. Carson was shouting orders ateveryone who came within hearing distance; reporters were running fromthe room, starting for the scene of the explosion; others were hasteningto hospitals where injured might have been taken and one was delvinginto the files to compare the present disaster with fires of otheryears.
A heavy pall of oily, black smoke blanketed the city and some streetswere so dark the street lights had been turned on.
Tim and Ralph ran to the nearby garage where the cars used by _News_Reporters were stored. They took the first machine available, a light,speedy roadster. Tim climbed behind the wheel and they shot out of thegarage. Traffic down town was in a tangled jam that would take an hourto clear for the rumbling explosions from the oil tanks had alarmed theentire city. Many people, believing that the city was about to fall ontheir heads, had hurried to their cars in an attempt to flee to the opencountry. Now they were just as anxious to return to their homes.
By sliding through alleys, Tim managed to get to a fairly clearboulevard that led to the airport. A light breeze had started to clearthe smoke from the air and Tim stepped on the accelerator. The indicatoron the speedometer climbed steadily--forty, forty-five and fifty milesan hour.
"Look out," cried Ralph, "Or we'll be picked up for speeding."
"No chance," replied Tim. "All the police are at the fire. We've got tomake time if we want good pictures."
Tim and Ralph were supremely happy as they sped toward the airport. Theywere going into the clouds again--into the clouds in quest of the newsand the pictures. Barely a year before the _News_ had purchased anairplane and Tim had been assigned the duties of flying reporter. Ralphhad been selected to help and Tim had trained his friend as a flyer.Together they had uncovered some of the biggest stories of the year forthe _News_ and their exploits had become exceedingly popular with thepeople of Atkinson.
In their first year of following the sky trails they had flown acrossthe top of the world to prove that the ice and snow of the Arctic didnot cover a hitherto unknown continent; Tim had flown down into OldMexico and secured exclusive photographs of a rebel leader; and togetherthey had brought about the death of the Sky Hawk, a former German warace who had preyed on the air lines of the middle west.
Now they were off on a new adventure and their hearts beat faster asthey neared the airport.
To their right great billows of smoke mounted skyward from the burningstorage tanks and occasionally tongues of flame could be seen as thefire made some new conquest.
The airport was just beyond the city l
The broad doors of the hangar had been rolled open and the _Good News_,its nose pointed toward the field, was waiting for them.
The metal propeller was turning slowly as the engine idled. The fuselagehad been painted a brilliant crimson with the wings a contrast in silvergrey.
Carl Hunter, quiet, efficient manager of the field, was waiting forthem.
"How does the new engine sound?" asked Tim.
"Mighty sweet," replied Hunter. "I haven't had her up for I knew youwould want the first flight. However, I gave her a thorough test on theblocks and she never missed a stroke. Boy, you've got some plane withthat new 250 horsepower radial motor. You'll do 200 miles an hour andhave plenty of power to spare."
They hastened to the plane where Tim and Ralph made a quick but thoroughinspection. The biplane had been overhauled and re-rigged during thewinter with a new, more powerful motor. The _Good News_ would be fiftymiles an hour faster.
The flying reporters climbed into their cockpits. Ralph, who was tohandle the camera, took the forward cockpit and Tim handled the controlsin the rear one.
Tim opened the throttle and listened attentively as he ran the motor upand down the scale. There was never a second's hesitation.
Hunter came close and shouted in Tim's ear.
"Don't get too close to the fire," he cried. "The heat will raise thedickens with the air and it will be pretty rocky."
Tim nodded and motioned for the blocks to be cleared away.
The _Good News_ rolled easily out of the hangar, flipped its tailsaucily at the few mechanics left at the field, and roared over thesoggy ground and into the air.
Tim thrilled to the touch of the controls and the _Good News_ answeredeven to the slightest movement of the stick.
The new motor settled to its work in a manner that warmed Tim's heart.He felt that he had reserve power for any emergency as he swung thebiplane around and headed for the burning oil tanks.
Tim put the _Good News_ in a steady climb and they gained altituderapidly. At 1,200 feet he levelled off and Ralph got busy with thecamera.
The oil storage lot, a large tract of level land, was dotted with adozen large tanks. Five of the tanks had caught fire and exploded, theforce of the explosion knocking off the steel tops. These tops, likegreat black pancakes, had been blown clear of the tract. One of them hadhurtled down to crush the roof of the house nearest the fire.
The walls of two of the tanks had given way and Tim and Ralph could seethe firemen fighting desperately to stop the spread of the flames.Safety trenches had been a part of the protective system at the tankfarm, but some of them had been weakened by the explosion and theflaming gasoline was finding the vulnerable spots.
Tim swung the _Good News_ over the blazing storage tanks and even 1,200feet in the air they could feel the heat. The plane danced crazily andRalph, who had been leaning far out, clutched the side of the plane andshook his fist at Tim.
The flying reporter snapped off the throttle and they glided down on agentle incline, as the propeller turned slowly.
"Got enough pictures?" yelled Tim.
"Three more plates left," shouted Ralph. "Let's go down where I can getsome close ups. Make a run for the fire at about four hundred feet; thenzoom up just before we get there. That will give us some real pictures."
"Also scorch all the new paint off the ship," protested Tim.
"Carson said he'd pay for a new coat," Ralph reminded him and Tim noddedand snapped on the switches again. The motor roared into action and theyshot down out of the murky sky.
At four hundred feet Tim pulled back on the stick and the _Good News_levelled off. They were a mile west of the burning tank farm when hebanked sharply and swung back toward the city.
The clouds of smoke, rolling upward, were streaked with vivid flashes offlame. Tim chilled as he thought of the fate that would be theirs iftheir plane failed to respond to the controls. He forced the thoughtfrom his mind and took a fresh grip on the stick.
Ralph glanced back and smiled. Tim motioned to his own safety belt anddirected Ralph to strap himself into the plane. No telling what mighthappen in the next smoky-flame seared seconds.
Tim pushed the _Good News_ into several tight banks while Ralph strappedhimself into the plane. Then they were ready for their picture makingdash.
Ralph trained his camera and glued his eyes to the sight. It would be agreat action picture, awe inspiring in its power, if they could get it.
Tim, one hand on the stick and the other on the throttle, watched hisair speed. It was increasing rapidly. Half a mile from the burning tanksthey were going one hundred and fifty miles an hour. A quarter of a mileaway and their speed had increased to one hundred and seventy-five. Thenthere was no more time to check the air speed. They were going fastenough and Tim knew his motor had plenty of reserve power for anyemergency.
Ralph, in the forward cockpit, was busy with his camera. Two exposuresof the rolling, mass of smoke and flame were made in the split secondsbefore Tim threw the _Good News_ into a steep zoom.
The towering pillar of smoke was less than five hundred feet ahead oftheir propeller when Tim put the pressure on the stick. The nose shotskyward and the _Good News_ danced upward along the outer rim of smoke.
Ralph was ready for the final exposure when a terrific explosion and awave of rag flame and heat tore the heavens asunder. The _Good News_leaped upward, bucking like a wild horse. Tim, his eyebrows singed andlungs burning from the scorching heat, fought the controls.
Up, up, up pitched the _Good News_, tossing wildly on the edge of theinferno of flame and smoke. The noise of the explosion had deadenedtheir ears and neither Ralph nor Tim could hear the laboring of themotor as Tim gave it full throttle.
The new paint on the wings and fuselage curled and darkened in the heatand for a second Tim thought the gasoline tank might explode.
Then above it all came the sound of a second explosion and the _GoodNews_ stood up on its tail. Tim was thankful that they had used theirsafety belts for he was almost thrown from the cockpit.
Out of the smoke hurtled a great piece of steel. Tim heard Ralph screama warning but he was powerless. The _Good News_ was out of control.
Fascinated by the sight of the great projectile which was approachingthem with terrifying speed, Tim lived an eternity. Actually it mighthave been a second, probably it was less.
The _Good News_, falling tail downward, missed the deadly piece of steelby less than two feet.
They were past one danger only to be confronted with another even morehorrible to contemplate than the one they had just escaped. Ralph, hiseyes burning in his smoke-blackened face, was looking back at Tim,trusting that the young flyer would be able to pull the _Good News_ outof the tailspin.
With a last despairing effort Tim crashed his fist against the throttle.It leaped ahead a good inch. It had jammed in the emergency and he hadnot noticed it. More fuel flooded into the laboring cylinders and themotor, its full power unlashed, lifted them almost vertically into thesky.
When they were out of danger and in the cool, clean air, Tim brought thenose of the plane down and they headed for the airport.
The _Good News_ looked to be ready to take first prize at a fire sale.The entire ship was grimy from the heavy oil smoke and the dope on thewings and fuselage was curled and cracked from the terrific heat.
Tim nosed down over the airport and idled his motor as they skimmed to aperfect three point landing and rolled to a stop in front of theirhangar.
Carl Hunter ran to their plane.
"You crazy news hounds," he cried. "I thought you were goners when thoseexplosions caught you. How did you ever get out alive?"
"We'll thank the new motor for saving our necks," replied Tim. "We werein trouble, believe me. The throttle stuck and the engine wasn't gettingall the gas. In a moment of desperation I smashed the throttle with myfi
"Good thing you made me strap myself in," grinned Ralph, "Or you wouldhave lost your passenger when we took that wild west ride."
"We were mighty lucky to get back," said Tim. "Next time we cover a fireon an oil tank farm we'll know enough to stay at a safe distance."
"But think of the great action pictures we've got," said Ralph.
"I'm thinking of my own neck right now," replied Tim. "When the secondexplosion came and that piece of steel picked us out for a target I justsaid good-bye to everything. While we're passing around the thanks forgetting out alive we'll have to include old lady gravity. The _GoodNews_ was dropping earthward just fast enough for us to escape."
"We'd better get these pictures to the office so they can use them inthe final," said Ralph.
"You take the camera and the car and go on," said Tim. "I won't beneeded at the office for a while and I want to check over the plane andsee if it suffered any serious damage. Tell Carson he'll have to okay anorder for another coat of paint."
"I'll wait and see how the pictures come out before I tell him,"chuckled Ralph as he got in the roadster and started for the office.
Tim and Hunter went over the _Good News_ carefully, checking every jointand strut. Then they gave the motor a thorough test. It was sweet andtrue.
"A real plane," was the field manager's comment when they had completedtheir inspection. "After a test like the one to-day you can count on itcarrying you through anything short of a hurricane."
"I'm not so sure it wouldn't do that," said Tim.
"We'd better fill up the gasoline tank," he added. "Never can tell whenwe may get an assignment that will call for another quick getaway."
They refueled the ship and were rolling it back into the hangar when acar skidded through the gate. The managing editor and Ralph were in themachine and from their haste Tim knew that he would soon be in theclouds again on the trail of another big story.