Helen in the Editor's Chair Part 26

They were still more than two miles from Sandy Point when a scarlet-hued plane shot into sight and climbed dizzily toward the clouds. It spiralled up and up, the roar of its motor audible even above the noise of the speedboat's engine.

"There's 'Speed' Rand now!" cried Tom. "No one flies like that but 'Speed'."

The graceful little plane reached the zenith of its climb, turned over on its back and fell away in twisting series of spirals that held the little group in the boat breathless.

The plane fluttered toward the lake, seemingly without life or power.

Just before it appeared about to crash, the propeller fanned the sunlight, the nose jerked up, and the little s.h.i.+p skimmed over the waters of the lake.

It was coming toward the _Liberty_ at 200 miles an hour. On and on it came until the roar of its motor drowned out every other sound. Helen, Tom and Margaret threw themselves onto the floor of the boat and Jim Preston crouched low behind his steering wheel.

There was a sharp crash and Helen held her breath. She was sure the plane had struck the _Liberty_ but the boat moved steadily ahead and she turned quickly to look for the plane.

The scarlet sky bird was limping toward the safety of the higher alt.i.tudes, its under-carriage twisted into a grotesque knot.

"What happened?" cried Tom as he stared aghast at 'Speed' Rand's damaged plane. "Did we get hit?"

"Nothing wrong with the _Liberty_," announced Jim Preston. "I don't know what happened."

Helen glanced at the speedboat's wake where a heavy wave was being rolled up by the powerful propeller.

"I know what happened," she cried. "'Rand' was just trying to give us an extra Fourth of July thrill and he forgot about the heavy wave the _Liberty_ pulls. He must have banged his landing gear into it."

"You're right, Helen," agreed Tom. "But I can't figure out why he didn't nose over and dive to the bottom of the lake."

"I expect that would have happened to any flyer except Rand," said Helen.

"He's supposed to be a wizard in the air."

"Wonder how this accident will affect the crowd at Sandy Point. Think it will keep them from riding with the air circus?" Margaret asked.

"Depends on how widely the story gets out," said Tom. "I'd hate to have Old Man Provost's celebration ruined by wild rumors. He's spent a lot of money getting ready to give the public a good time."

Helen had been watching the progress of Rand's plane. Instead of heading back toward Sandy Point he was crossing the lake to the east side.

"He's not going back to Sandy Point," Helen cried. "Look, he's going to land on the east side back in the hills."

"Then he'll leave the plane there and no one at Sandy Point will know anything about the accident," exclaimed Tom. "That means we're the only ones who know."

Helen was thinking rapidly. Here was just the chance she needed to get hold of Rand and ask him about his world trip. She might be able to make a trade with him. It was worth a try. She leaned forward and spoke to the boatman.

"Will you swing over east, land and pick up the pilot of that plane?" she asked Jim Preston.

Tom, divining the motive back of Helen's request, added, "We'll pay for the extra time."

The boatman agreed and the nose of the _Liberty_ was soon cleaving a white-crested path for the east sh.o.r.e. The scarlet plane had disappeared but from the drone of the motor they knew it was somewhere in the hills back from the lakesh.o.r.e.

Jim Preston let the _Liberty_ drift to an easy landing alongside a rocky outcropping and Tom, Helen and Margaret hopped out.

"We won't be gone long," they promised.

Back through the spa.r.s.e timber along the lake sh.o.r.e they hurried and out into a long, narrow meadow. The scene that greeted them held them spellbound for a moment. Then they raced toward the far end of the pasture.

"Speed" Rand had landed the damaged plane in a fence.

Tom was the first to reach the wrecked craft. He expected to find the famous flyer half dead in the wreckage. Instead, he was greeted by a debonair young fellow who crawled from beneath one wing where he had been tossed by the impact when the plane struck the fence.

"My gosh," exclaimed Tom, "aren't you hurt?"

"Sorry," smiled Rand, "but I'll have to disappoint you. I haven't anything more than a few bruises."

Helen and Margaret arrived so out of breath they were speechless.

Rand bowed slightly. Then his eyes glowed with recognition.

"h.e.l.lo," he said. "Aren't you the folks in the speedboat?"

"We sure were," Tom said. "You scared us half to death."

"I scared myself," admitted Rand, his blue eyes reflecting the laughter on his lips. "It's been so long since I've been in a speedboat I'd forgotten all about the big wake one of those babies pull. I'm just lucky not to be at the bottom of the lake."

"You're really 'Speed' Rand, aren't you?" asked Margaret.

He smiled and nodded and Margaret decided she had never seen a more likable young man. His hair was brown and curly and his face was bronzed by the sun of many continents.

"If you've got your boat around here, suppose you give me a lift back to Sandy Point," suggested Rand.

"We'll be glad to," Helen replied. "I don't suppose you'll want it broadcast about the accident this morning on the lake and your cracking up in a fence over here?"

"What are you driving at? Trying to hi-jack me into paying you to keep quiet?" The last words were short and angry and his eyes hardened.

"Nothing like that," explained Tom quickly. "We know that broadcasting news of an accident to 'Speed' Rand will hurt Old Man Provost and his celebration."

"Then what do you want?" Rand insisted.

"We want to know whether there is anything to the rumor that you're considering a non-stop refueling flight around the world," said Helen.

Rand stopped and stared at the young editor of the _Herald_ in open amazement.

"Great heavens," he exclaimed. "You sound like a newspaper reporter."

"I am," replied Helen. "I'm the editor of the _Rolfe Herald_ and also correspondent for the a.s.sociated Press."

"And you want a story from me about my world flight in return for keeping quiet about the accident."

"You can call it that," admitted Helen.

They had reached the sh.o.r.e of the lake and Rand did not answer until they were in the _Liberty_ and Jim Preston had the craft headed for Sandy Point.

"Suppose I deny the rumor," said Rand.