Nothing by Chance

By three o’clock we were airborne, heading south and east into Missouri. Stu rode the Travelair front seat, and I had a cockpit full of baggage and parachutes.

We had a problem at once. The Travelair was too fast; Spence had to keep his power way back to fly slow enough for me to stay with him

. Every once in a while he would forget, and think about something else, and then turn around to find a tiny speck of a Parks trailing a mile behind. But by the time we crossed the Mississippi, we were working together and our shadows flicked over the brown water in good formation. It was a fine feeling, not to be alone, to have another biplane out there going the same way through the old sky. We felt happy, my airplane and I, and we did a little swooping and turning just for fun.

A barnstormer, I found, gets to know the country well. It wasn’t necessary to look once at the map. Head toward the sun till you hit the Mississippi. Fly down the river till you can see the Des Moines River coming in from the west. Cut north of Keokuk and angle a little south for ten minutes and there’s Kahoka.

The drag strip was overflowing with people. We flew one circle to let the world know that we had arrived, and turned to land.

“Hey, this looks nice,” Spence said as soon as we had landed. “Nice grass, town’s right here, this looks real nice.”

The passengers came at once and it was luxury to let the Travelair carry the first ones, just to sit on the ground and let Spence bring in the money.

We were big time now, with a Ship Number One and a Ship Number Two to work for us. Unfortunately I couldn’t enjoy the luxury long, for greasy old Ship Number One had customers walking toward her, ready to fly. I climbed into my familiar seat and we were on our way through the afternoon. There were just a few hours left till sundown, but we worked straight through, and carried twenty-three riders before the day was over.

I heard bits and pieces of passenger-talk, between takeoffs.

“I been twenty-five years trying to get my wife off the ground, and today she finally goes up in that blue plane.”

“This is real flying. The modern stuff is transportation, but this is real flying.”

“Sure glad you guys showed up—it’ll do a lot for this town.”

It was like coming home, Kahoka. The Orbit Inn was still there and going strong, with its juke-box music; and the young people sitting on the fenders of their cars in the warm night air.

“This is fun,” Spence said. “Not just the money, but talking to the people. You’re really doing something for ’em.”

Stu and I saw it all again for the first time, through the other pilot’s eyes as he talked. It was good to see Spencer Nelson there in night Kahoka, carried away with the fresh new joys of barnstorming.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“I GOT AN OIL LEAK!” Spence was concerned, and pointed to a tiny line of clean oil from the engine cowl.

“You want to trade oil leaks, Mister Nelson?” I said. “Now I’ve got a few nice leaks that you might find interesting …”

“Your engine’s supposed to leak,” he said. “But a Continental’s supposed to be tight as a drum.” He was worried, and loosened the Travelair’s bottom cowl in the first rays of cool morning sunlight.

Oh, well, I thought, if we have early passengers, I’ll do the flying. I dragged out my tool kit and we began checking over his big engine.

“Everything’s so new,” he said. “Probably just some fittings working in, and they’re loose now.”

Which was part of the trouble. Some of the oil-hose connections were loose enough to turn a full time around before snugging tight again.

“That ought to do her up,” he said after half an hour’s work. “Let’s give her a try.”

“I’ll crank it for you.” I set the starter crank into the side of the cowl and thought that it was a pretty light little fitting for the heavy crank.

“It’s a bit flimsy there, that crank thing,” Nelson said, from the cockpit. “When I get back I’m gonna beef that up.”

I turned the crank three turns, and the shaft snapped off under my hand.

“What’s the matter?” he called.

“Spence, kiddo, I think you’re gonna have to beef this thing up before you get back.”

“It didn’t break, did it?”

“Yessir.”