Transcriber's Note:
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Gray clouds of winter hung over the cityas the noon edition of the Atkinson Newsroared off the press.
Tim Murphy, famous young flying reporterand aviation editor of the News,pecked away half-heartedly at his typewritertrying to write a story about a minorautomobile accident that had happened afew minutes before in front of the Newsbuilding.
The raw, damp weather and the lead-coloredsky had a depressing effect on Tim.He felt earthbound, restless, and he longedto soar through the clouds in the GoodNews, the trim, fast biplane owned by thepaper.
“What are you looking so gloomyabout?” asked Ralph Graves, who had beenTim’s flying companion on many an aerialadventure.
“This weather is enough to give anyonea grouch,” replied Tim. “Here it is,almost spring, and we have to get a week ofsloppy weather that spoils all our plans.That job of overhauling the Good Newsand installing the new motor will be donetoday but it won’t do us any good. Withweather like this we won’t get any flyingassignments.”
“I know just how you feel,” sympathizedRalph, “Ive been out chasing the firetrucks on a couple of chimney fires and I’veslopped through all the mud and slush I’mgoing to for one day. Gosh! But I’d liketo hop over a few clouds in the GoodNews.”
The telephone on Tim’s desk rang and heturned to answer. He was smiling whenhe swung back and faced Ralph.
“Dash off your copy,” he said. “CarlHunter, the manager at the airport, justphoned that the Good News is ready for atest flight. If we cut lunch this noon we’llhave time for a short hop. What say?”
“Don’t ask foolish questions,” grinnedRalph. He hurried to his typewriter wherehis fingers were soon beating a tattoo onflying keys as he wrote the story of the fires.
Ralph finished his story, turned it in atthe copy desk, and was on his way to rejoinTim when a deep rumble shook the building.
“Earthquake!” shouted one of the copyboys as he dove under a desk.
The windows rattled in their frames andthe entire building shook as the terrificnoise continued. Then a great pall of blacksmoke could be seen mounting skyward.The building ceased its trembling, the copyboy scrambled out from under the desk andthe telephones voiced their sharp cries.
Tim was the first to answer. From hisattitude others in the news room sensedsome major disaster. The managing editor,George Carson, human dynamo of the paper,ran to Tim’s desk and leaned close tothe receiver. He could hear the wordswhich were being shouted into the transmitterat the other end of the line.
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