Bill Barnes Air Adventurer, July 1935 — page 32: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

30 BILL BARNES “1 don’t think so. My head ‘feels as though they had dropped a safe on it. Outside of that I’m all right. What did they want? What was the big idea?” “Those papers,’ Bill said, quickly. “Do you still have them?” Shorty produced a real grin this time. “Sure,” he said. “I had Tony Lam- port put them away in your safe. I’m going to have copies made of them. There is something darned funny about all this, Bill. Those papers must be worth a lot of money or men wouldn't go around trying to murder to get them.” “Those babies over there will never try to murder any one else,’ Sandy said. “Can you walk?” Bill asked. “TI can try,” Shorty said. He got to his feet unsteadily, with their aid. “We'll stick you in the after cockpit of my Snorter,”’ Bill said. “We've got a lot of things to do before dawn.” He stopped and looked at Shorty keenly. “Maybe we'd better put this thing off fora few days. I mean, our start. Our first leg 1s to Bermuda. Then the Ca- nary Islands. It’s going to be tough 93 going.” “What do you think I am,” Shorty asked. “A lily?” Bill grinned as he helped Shorty over the side. “All right, fella,” he said. “We shove at dawn, if the doctor says you're Oak." V—MORE MYSTERY CY HAWKINS, the slow-talking, fast-thinking Texan, stood with Bill Barnes on the apron just before dawn the next morning. Bill was giving last- minute instructions to Scotty MacClos- key before the four ships took the air. “Don't let Tony Lamport forget about making plans for our refueling at Bedmuda, the Canary Islands, Cairo, Djibouti, Zanzibar and Tamatave,” Bill said. “You're sure Red and Shorty are all night?” Scotty asked, anxiously. “You have some long hops ahead of you.” “They're too tough to be bothered by a couple of raps on the head,’ Cy said. “Anyway, try and keep ’em homme.” The props of the two Snorters, the Scarlet Stormer, and the monster trans- port were ticking over slowly. The coggled, white-helmeted heads of Bill’s men jutted above the rim of the scarlet amphibians. They were waiting impa- tiently for Bill to signal the dispatch tower. Luggage, ammunition and emergency equipment in the tails of the big ships had been carefully checked. “You’re in charge, Scotty,” Bull said. “Bev Bates will be back in a couple of days to give you a hand. I'll keep in touch with you by radiophone when the weather isn’t too soupy. By cable when itis.” Cy shook hands with Scotty and moved toward his Snorter. “This,” Bill thought, “is one of the most mysterious expeditions I’ve ever undertaken. [I don’t know where or why.” He shook his head angrily. He shook hands with Scotty MacCloskey and raised his hand above his head. The dispatch tower acknowledged. The motor of Red Gleason’s Snorter roared. A signal flashed. The Snorter rolled forward as the brakes were re- leased. Red Gleason grinned and began to sing as his ship streaked down the runway. The tail came up. The concrete faded away beneath it. Red took it swiftly upward in tight spirals. At five thousand feet he leveled off and began swinging around in wide circles until Cy had joined him in the other Snorter. As the twenty-four-hundred-horse- power engines of the Scarlet Stormer blasted, Shorty Hassfurther flipped a hand of farewell into the air. His flaps came down and the wheels of the long, oO COMIGHOO S CO