“He tried flares again, but it was no use. When he had just a few minutes of gas left, he saw the glow of a town. He didn’t want to take a chance on landing in a town and killing somebody, so he headed for open country. In a few minutes his engine died. Lindy stepped out into the blind fog and jumped. After falling a hundred feet, he pulled the rip-cord, and left the rest to chance. Every once in a while his ship appeared, twirling away in spirals, the outside of the circle about 300 yards away from Lindy. He counted five spirals, and then lost sight of the bus. He landed in a corn field, shaken, of course, but all right. He found his way to the farm house, and told the farmer who he was. The farmer, who had heard the crash of the plane as it smashed to earth wouldn’t believe that this safe and sound man was the pilot of it. Finally Lindy convinced him, and they went in search of the plane, which the farmer was sure had landed close to his house. They found it two miles away, looking not much like a plane, but a heap of rubbish. The mail wasn’t hurt. They got it to a train for Chicago, and the mail went through. It always does, you know.” “Yup, it always does,” said Captain Bill. “That reminds me of a story,” said Pat. “Hold it,” said Bob. “I’ve got another parachute for Lindy.” “Fire away,” said Pat. “But remember to remind me not to forget to tell you my own story.” “All right,” Bob put in. “Now the fourth time Lindy jumped was not long before his big flight. He was still flying for Robertson’s, carrying mail to Chicago. Just south of Peoria he ran into rain that changed to snow. Lindy flew around, waiting for the fog to lift, until he heard his motor sputter and die. He was up about 13,000 feet when he stepped out of the cockpit and jumped into the air. He landed on a barbed wire fence. Tore his shirt, but the plane was pretty much of a wreck. He grabbed the air mail; hurried to a train for Chicago, got another plane, and flew the mail through. A little late, but still, it got through. And he didn’t bat an eye. Not one of the jumps fazed him a bit. “But it wasn’t as though Lindy jumped at the slightest sign of anything going wrong. He stayed with his plane until the very last minute, doing everything he could to save it. He hated worse than anything to have a plane smashed up. Look how long he stayed with that new plane he was testing out—until he was just 300 feet above the ground. “Well, Lindy was one of the best mail pilots that the Robertson corporation had, in fact, he was their chief pilot. They could depend on him to go out in weather that no other pilot would think of bucking. He didn’t show off. Just knew that he could fly through anything, and he did.