“I noticed that you were sort of ‘riding the beam’ when you came into the locker room,” Hap Newton said, picking up his parachute. “Eyes fixed on vacancy, expression of a calf in a butcher’s cart, and all that. ’Smatter, Chick—did he bawl you out?” “No, Hap, he was kind—too kind entirely. Reminded me of a sympathetic executioner. He’s flying with me on this test—in his own washing machine. If he so much as coughs when we get ‘upstairs’ I’ll probably reef back the stick and go into a stall.... Well, wish me happy landings. I’m taking off.” Barry Blake shook his head gloomily at Chick’s departing figure. “The kid’s in a storm already,” he muttered to Hap. “If Chick were the best gadgeteer on the Field he’d never pass a test under the hood with that case of jitters.” “Instrument flying will show jumpy nerves every time,” Hap agreed. “It’s tough, Barry. The whole thing started when Glenn Crayle doped the ‘Jeep’ stick with itching powder. Of all the lowdown, squirmy tricks, that was the worst! And he’ll be tickled half to death if Chick is washed out.” Barry Blake was so upset about his friend that his own nerves were none too steady. When he stepped into the cockpit, however, he took a firm grip on himself. Glenn Crayle, he vowed, should not have the laugh on two of them. Barry was a born flier. Once in the air, he lost every trace of jitters. His performance was better than ever. He passed the test with a high mark, and brought his instructor back smiling. Hap Newton, who landed soon after, also passed without difficulty. “Where’s Chick?” the latter asked, the moment they were alone. “Still flying,” Barry said shortly. “There comes his ship. Flight Commander Branch must have been giving him an extra-thorough test.” The two friends watched Chick’s ship come in for the landing. With engine cut off, it glided down. The wheels bumped—bounced—came down again. “He’s heading for the hay,” Hap Newton yelled, as Chick’s plane slewed around. “Give her the gun, Chick!” As if his frantic shout had actually been heard, Chick’s engine roared into life. The ship leaped into the air, and climbed like a cat with a dog after her. “That washing machine must have developed a wobbly tail wheel,” Barry muttered; “or maybe it was a freak breeze that caught him.” “Shucks, Barry,” Hap answered unhappily. “There’s no use making excuses for him. Chick’s still got the jeep jitters. He’s as good as washed out now.” “Not if he lands okay this time,” Barry said. Chick’s plane banked, turned, and came down the base leg with open throttle. The engine cut out. A wing dropped slightly, to counteract the drift of the light wind. So far, Chick was handling her nicely. At just the right second he lifted her nose a little to make a three-point landing. The tires touched....