“I’m not afraid of him,” she stated in a hard tone. “It’s the wreck he’s flying that worries me.” I started to tell her that the Old Lady was all right, and just then Russ started to rev her up. She had a roar like two ordinary planes, and there wasn’t much use getting hoarse yelling at Miss West. Anyway, it was ten to one that she wouldn’t be convinced. She had her pack-’chute on, and adjusted her helmet. She wore no goggles. As she climbed into the rear cockpit of the DeHaviland, the camera-plane took off. I revved up the D.H.’s engine, and Russ taxied the Old Lady out. He waved a hand, and I waved back. I jerked my head. Miss West had an expression of intense dislike on her fair face; it was directed toward the taxiing Jenny. I smiled grimly, muttered a sort of half-prayer--and advanced the throttle a few notches. The D.H. rolled out, and I gave her left rudder to get her nosed into the wind. Then I opened her up--and took off.... We were at four thousand--the three planes. I had the D.H. throttled down a bit, flying into the wind. We were approaching an airspot almost directly over the circus outfit’s field. The camera-plane was off to the right, but not very far off. It had about twenty-five feet more altitude, and I could see the head and shoulders of the man who was making the shoot. He was standing in the rear cockpit, and his camera was mounted on a movable bracket. I jerked my head, banked a bit--then straightened the D.H. out. The Old Lady was coming up from behind. Russ Healy had her within a half mile of the D.H. I twisted around, nodded my head to the girl. “All right!” I snapped. “Let’s go!” She understood, of course, though it was doubtful if she heard my words above the roar of the engine’s exhausts. The next thing I knew, she was working her way out along the lower wing surface. She moved along as if she were going somewhere--and without the slightest false effort. I grinned. The weaker sex? It was almost funny--that line! The wind zipped her tight-fitting blouse close about her. She grasped first one strut, then the next. Out near the edge of the wing-tip, she suddenly threw back her head and laughed, waving a hand. I grinned back at her. As she reached up toward the loop on the upper surface I thought my ears picked up the blending of another engine roar with mine. Then the girl was swinging up--had vanished from sight. I glanced to the right, saw that the camera-man in the rear cockpit of the third plane had started to crank. The D.H. was handling nicely; there was pretty fair air at four thousand. My job was to keep the D.H. on even keel while the girl did her stuff on the upper wing, and it wasn’t such a tough job. From time to time I glanced at the camera-man, cranking away. I could see Lott’s helmeted head. The pilot of the third ship had her in pretty close; I guessed that Russ Healy was almost above me now--with the Old Lady.