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I turned and looked over at the pile of junk beside the plane。 〃How much does the radio weigh？〃
〃Five hundred and ten pounds；〃 he answered quickly。 Then he stared at me。 〃You can't dump that！ How the hell will you know where you are or what the weather is like up ahead？〃
〃Same way I did before they put radios in planes。 Dump it！〃
He started to walk back to the plane； shaking his head。 I had another idea。 〃The oxygen…pressure system for the cockpit？〃
〃Six hundred and seventy pounds； including the tanks。〃
〃Dump that； too；〃 I said。 〃I'll fly low。〃
〃You'll need oxygen to get over the Rockies。〃
〃Put a portable tank in the cockpit next to me。〃
I went into the office and called Buzz Dalton at the Intercontinental office in Los Angeles。 He'd already left so they transferred the call to his home。 〃Buzz； this is Jonas。〃
〃I was wondering when I'd hear from you。〃
〃I want you to do me a favor。〃
〃Sure；〃 he said quickly。 〃What？〃
〃I'm flying out to the Coast tonight；〃 I said。 〃And I want you to have weather signals up for me at every ICA hangar across the country。〃
〃What's the matter with your radio？〃
〃I'm taking the CA…4 out nonstop。 And I can't drag the weight。〃
He whistled。 〃You'll never make it； buddy boy。〃
〃I'll make it；〃 I said。 〃Use the searchlight blinkers at night； paint the rooftops during the day。〃
〃Will do；〃 he said。 〃What's your flight pattern？〃
〃I haven't decided the pattern yet。 Just have all the fields covered。〃
〃Will do；〃 he said。 〃Good luck。〃
I put down the telephone。 That's what I liked about Buzz。 He was dependable。 He didn't waste time with foolish questions like why； when or where。 He did as he was told。 The only thing he cared about was the airline。 That was why ICA was rapidly being the largest mercial airline in the country。
I took the bottle of bourbon out of the desk and took a long pull off it。 Then I went over to the couch and stretched out。 My legs hung over the edge but I didn't care。 I could grab a little rest while the mechanics were finishing up。 I closed my eyes。
I sensed Morrissey standing near me and opened my eyes。 〃Ready？〃 I asked； looking up at him。
He nodded。
I swung my feet down from the couch and sat up。 I looked out at the hangar。 It was empty。 〃Where is she？〃
〃Outside；〃 he said。 〃I'm having her warmed up。〃
〃Good；〃 I said。 I looked at my watch。 It was a few minutes past three。 He followed me into the john。 〃You're tired；〃 he said； watching while I splashed cold water on my face。 〃Do you really think you should go？〃
〃I have to。〃
〃I put six roast…beef sandwiches and two quart Thermos bottles of black coffee in the plane for you。〃
〃Thanks；〃 I said； starting out。
His hand stopped me。 He held out a small white bottle。 〃I called my doctor；〃 he said； 〃and he brought these out for you。〃
〃What are they？〃
〃A new pill。 Benzedrine。 Take one if you get sleepy。 It'll wake you up。 But be careful with them。 Don't take too many or you'll go through the roof。〃
We started out for the plane。 〃Don't open your reserve fuel tanks until you're down to a quarter tank。 The gravity feed won't pull if she registers more than that and it might even lock。〃
〃How will I know if the reserve tanks are working？〃 I asked。
He looked at me。 〃You won't until you run out of gas。 And if she locks； the air pressure will keep your gauge at a quarter even if the tank is dry。〃
I shot a quick look at him but didn't speak。 We kept on walking。 I climbed up on the wing and turned toward the cockpit。 A hand pulled at my trouser leg。 I turned around。
Forrester was looking up at me with a shocked look on his face。 〃What are you doing with the plane？〃
〃Going to California。〃
〃But what about the tests tomorrow？〃 he shouted。 〃I even got Steve Randall out here tonight to look at her。〃
〃Sorry；〃 I said。 〃Call it off。〃
〃But the General；〃 he yelled。 〃How'll I explain to him？ He'll blow his stack！〃
I climbed into the cockpit and looked down at him。 〃That's not my headache any more； it's yours。〃
〃But what if something happens to the plane？〃
I grinned suddenly。 I'd been right in my hunch about him。 He'd make a first…rate executive。 There wasn't an ounce of concern about me； only for the plane。 〃Then build another one；〃 I shouted。 〃You're president of the pany。〃
I waved my hand； and releasing the brakes； began to taxi slowly out on the runway。 I turned her into the wind and held her there while I revved up the motor。 I pulled the canopy shut and when the tachometer reached twenty…eight； I let go of the brakes。
We raced down the runway。 I didn't even try to lift her until my ground speed reached a hundred and forty。 We were almost out of runway before she began to chew off a piece of sky。 After that； she lifted easily。
I leveled off at four thousand feet and headed due south。 I looked over my shoulder。 The North Star was right in the middle of my back； flickering brightly in the clear； dark sky。 It was hard to believe that less than a thousand miles from here the skies were locked in。
I was over Pittsburgh when I remembered something Nevada had taught me when I was a kid。 We were trailing a big cat and he pointed up at the North Star。 〃The Indians have a saying that when the North Star flickers like that；〃 he said； 〃a storm is moving south。〃
I looked up again。 The North Star was flickering exactly as it had that night。 I remembered another Indian saying that Nevada taught me。 The quickest way west is into the wind。
My mind was made up。 If the Indians were right； by the time I hit the Midwest； the storm would be south of me。 I banked the plane into the wind and when I looked up from the pass； the North Star was dancing brightly off my right shoulder。
My back ached； everything ached … my shoulders； my arms and legs … and my eyelids weighed a ton。 I felt them begin to close and reached for the coffee Thermos。 It was empty。 I looked at my watch。 Twelve hours since I had left Roosevelt Field。 I stuck my hand into my pocket and took out the box of pills Morrissey had given me。 I put one in my mouth and swallowed it。
For a few minutes； I felt nothing； then I began to feel better。 I took a deep breath and scanned the horizon。 The way I figured； I shouldn't be too far from the Rockies。 Twenty…five minutes later； they came into view。
I checked the fuel gauge。 It held steady on one quarter。 I had opened the reserve tanks。 The fringe of the storm I'd passed through in the Midwest had cost me more than an hour's supply of gasoline and I'd need a break from the wind to get through。
I turned the throttle and listened to the engines。 Their roar sounded full and heavy as the richer mixture poured into their veins。 I leaned back on the stick and began to climb toward the mountains。 I still felt a little tired so I popped another pill into my mouth。
At twelve thousand feet； I began to feel chilly。 I slipped the huarachos back on my feet and reached for the oxygen tube。 Almost immediately； I felt as if the plane had just jumped three thousand feet I looked at the altimeter。 It read only twelve four hundred。
I sucked again on the tube。 A burst of power came roaring through my body and I placed my hands on the dashboard。 To hell with the gasoline！ I could lift this baby over the Rockies with my bare hands。 It was only a question of will power。 Like the fakirs in India said when they confounded you with their tricks of levitation … it was only a question of mind over matter。 It was all in the mind。
Rina！ I almost shouted aloud。 I stared at the altimeter。 The needle had dropped to ninety…five hundred feet and was still dropping。 I stared over the plane at the mountain creeping up at me。 I put my hand on the stick and pulled back。 It seemed like forever until the mountain began to fall beneath me again。
I lifted my hands to wipe the sweat from my brow。 My cheeks were wet with tears。 The strange feeling of power was gone now and my head began to ache。 Morrissey had warned me about the pills and the oxygen had helped a little； too。 I touched the throttle and carefully regulated the mixture as it went into the motors。
I still had almost four hundred miles to go and I didn't want to run out of gas。
6
I PUT DOWN AT BURBANK AT TWO O'CLOCK。 I had been in the air almost fifteen hours。 I taxied over to the Cord Aircraft hangars； cut the engines and began to climb down。 The engines were still roaring in my ears。
I stepped to the ground and a mob surrounded me。 I recognized some of them； reporters。 〃I'm sorry； men；〃 I said； pushing my way through them toward the hangar。 〃I'm still motor deaf。 I can't hear what you're saying。〃
Buzz was there； too； a big grin on his face。 He grabbed my hand and pumped it。 His lips were moving but I missed the first part of what he said； then suddenly my hearing was back。
〃。。。 set a new east…to…west coast…to…coast record。〃
Right now that didn't matter。 〃Do you have a car waiting for me？〃
〃Over at the front gate；〃 Buzz said。
One of the reporters pushed forward。 〃Mr。 Cord；〃 he shouted at me。 〃Is it true you made this flight to see Rina Marlowe before she dies？〃
He needed a bath after the look I gave him。 I didn't answer。
〃Is it true that you bought out Norman Pictur