Hal was frantic. His first impulse was to pull up on the stick, in order to bring up the tail. Then some glint of reason came through his terror, and he remembered Pat’s warning that this was the last thing he should do to pull himself up. But what had Pat said? He couldn’t remember. Then suddenly it came to him. Push forward on your stick! With an effort he made himself push forward. The Marianne gave a convulsive shudder. But the action had taken her out of her spin. With a feeling of unutterable relief Hal felt her come out of her spin and go into a glide. He looked over the side of the plane. He was rushing toward a brick building, at the furthest end of the airport! There was nothing to do now but crash. He was too close to stretch out the glide! With a last desperate movement, Hal opened the throttle of his engine. The motor caught! With a thrill of joy he heard the roar of the motor as it started again, and felt the stick respond to his touch. He pulled back the stick, the nose of the plane lifted, and he zoomed into the air. Down on the ground Pat, Bill and Bob had gone through the tortures of the damned, watching Hal fall to what seemed certain death, while they stood helplessly below. When they saw him zoom once more into the air, their hearts bounded with him. “The gas-line must have been clogged!” shouted Pat. “It cleared itself out when they dived!” “Thank God,” said Bill. Bob could say nothing, but kept shouting Hal, Hal, Hal, over and over again. Hal was gliding in, now, to land. He got out of the cockpit, white and shaking. The others, beside themselves with joy, surrounded him, shaking his hand, hugging him, patting his shoulder. But Hal did not seem to notice what was happening. “You handled that plane like Lindbergh!” shouted Pat. “Good boy.” But all that Hal said was, “I’m never going up again.” Pat had gone over to the plane to look it over. “It seems all right,” he said, turning off the motor that he had tested. “But there must have been a bit of dirt in the line leading from the gas tank. You had a lucky escape, lad. It was quick thinking that you did up there. I’m proud of you.” But Captain Bill saw that Hal was in no mood for praise. He knew, too, that the best cure for the boy was to take him right up again into the air, so that he would have no time to develop a phobia against going up. But he would not risk taking up the Marianne until it had had a thorough overhauling. The Captain put his arm around Hal’s shoulder. “You mustn’t say that you’re never going up again, Hal, old man,” he said. “You proved yourself up there. You’re going to make a great flyer.” “It was great, Hal, great,” said Bob. “I would have crashed the old bus and killed myself. I couldn’t have kept my head.”