Again he pointed the nose up into the air, and climbed to about 5,000 feet. The sky was clear and cloudless. He lost all track of time and space. He seemed to be by himself in the universe. But he knew that he wasn’t. The others would be expecting him back. Reluctantly he banked and turned around, and headed once more for the airport. He throttled down the motor and glided swiftly to earth. He saw the grass below turn green as he approached it; he leveled off. In his excitement, he kept the tail of the plane a little too high, his front wheels landed too soon, and he felt for a breath-taking moment that he was going over on his nose. But the Marianne righted herself, and taxied docilely along the ground. Bob jumped out, pushing back his goggles. “How was that?” he shouted to Pat and Bill, who came running up to him. Pat glowered. “What a landing!” he said, in disgust. “Young man, is that the sort of landing I taught you?” Bob’s smile faded, and he looked crestfallen. “I didn’t level off,” he said. “Of course you didn’t. A blind man could tell you that.” Then Pat’s voice suddenly changed. “But you handled her like a veteran,” he said. “You’ve got the makings of an ace in you, lad.” Bob’s ready grin spread quickly over his face again. “Did I really?” he cried. “Bill, what did you think?” He was perfectly willing to hear himself praised, now that he was sure that his performance has been good. “Oh, you’re all right,” said Bill grudgingly. “How about Hal? It’s his turn now.” He turned to Hal. “You show this young fellow how to make a three point landing,” he said, and gave Hal a little clap on the shoulder. Hal came forward. He was unusually silent, and his face was pale. He had struggled with his fear and he felt that he had conquered it. He had come to have confidence in his handling of the Marianne with Pat or Bill in the other cockpit, ready to take the controls if anything went wrong. Now he would have confidence taking her up alone. He set his jaw grimly and got into the cockpit. The motor was warm, and sounded good. Hal took the Marianne into the air with a grace that made Pat and Bill look at each other with surprise and congratulation. “The kid’s got the stuff, all right,” said Bill. “I knew he had. Who said he didn’t have nerve?” “He’s better for it, too,” said Pat. “It’s done him good, all right.” They watched the plane climbing into the cloudless skies. Then suddenly the sound of the motor ceased. “Good grief,” cried Pat. The others were too horrified even to cry out. They saw the plane stall, then fall nose down, spiraling as it went. When he heard the motor conk, Hal’s heart stood still. He tried the stick frantically. The rudder, the ailerons, would not respond. The throttle brought no answering roar of power. The Marianne had become suddenly a mad thing, an enemy, bent on his destruction. She side-slipped, her nose dipped down, an she went into a tailspin.