Pretty soon the field slides into view. There’s a crowd pushin’ around on it, and lined up, staggered in back of each other, are planes. We circle and come down, and taxi smoothly across the field. Then we ground-loop neatly, and come amblin’ back. Ned cuts the motor, and we hop out. For a minute we’re busy registerin’, and then official greaseballs push the plane into place, third in the line. And there’s the Stormbird, our deadly opponent, with its nose ’way out in front. As we come past it, the pilot comes away from it. It is Walker, lookin’ uglier ’n ever, with gloatin’ eyes and crooked sneer. We give him hard looks and want to go on, but he has somethin’ to say. “Yesterday was your innin’, you hooters. Today is mine. I’m goin’ to fly you off the map!” “Not in that wash-tub!” I come back. “Hush up, Benny!” Ned nudges me. “Walker, you’re takin’ all the joy out of this race. We want to fly with real flyers, not with crooks. Depend on it, man, we don’t intend to be beaten by dirty play. And if you fly square, Walker-- you’ve only primed yourself for the lickin’ of your life!” Walker glares a killin’ look at us, and cusses us out as we pass on. Then there’s a squeal, and Jane Alton comes rushin’ around the line of officials, followed by her Dad. She runs up to Ned and, right out in public, gives him a big kiss. She talks fast as a whirlwind, bein’ all jazzed up with excitement and hope. Her Dad just shakes us by the hand and says: “In a few minutes you’ll be off, boys. Remember--we’re goin’ to win.” We promise him--our hearts in our throats. That big Stormbird looks like a flyin’ devil to us and winnin’ won’t be a cinch for anybody. Jane asks, breathless: “Ned, won’t you _please_ take me along?” Ned laughs. “No, Jane. It can’t be done. I’m sorry.” “Oh, please!” she begs. And he chuckles again, “No!” Mr. Alton closes in then for a confidential talk with Ned; and Jane, in a minute, grabs my sleeve and pulls me a little bit aside. “Benny, will you do somethin’ for me?” “Jane,” I says, “All you’ve got to do is ask.” She pulls me aside a little farther. “Would you do it for me, even if it meant a lot to you?” “Well, Jane,” I say, “I guess I can equal anybody so far as doin’ things for you is concerned. You know that.” She tugs me still farther, and we’re gettin’ close to the locker room. “Benny,” she says then, “I want to fly in this race with Ned.” I choke up at that unexpected request, but I might ’a’ known Jane would ’ve been dyin’ to get up in the air on this big occasion. “Gosh, Jane!” I say. “We couldn’t stow you away. It’d overweight the plane and hurt our chances to--” “Oh, I don’t want to stowaway!” she says. “I want you to let me take your place!”