“What’s wrong--out of water? How long will this stop take?” It apparently did not seem strange to him that the ship was safely on the ground, even though he could not see across the field because of darkness. “Yeah. Get out and see if you can find a windmill near here, or a farmhouse. I thought we’d get a lot farther than this before that radiator ran dry,” Nick replied. * * * * * Wilson jumped to the ground and struggled out of his parachute, then hurried off into the darkness. Nick got out and looked at the damaged wing. He tore away the portion of the fabric that was ripped open and would start a larger rent when the ship got into the air again. If it did! The tires were sunk deep in the soft sand of the field--clear up to the rims of the wheels. Nick had been lucky to find a field at all in the darkness before dawn, but he had put the Vought into a place where the sand would suck the ship down when the take-off was attempted. He wasn’t sure that he couldn’t get into the air again, but he knew that the odds were all against him. He wished, fervidly, that he had allowed Wilson to make this trip by car. And another new problem, which he had not foreseen before the take-off, had arisen when he learned that the radiator was good for less than thirty minutes in the air: Between the point where he had landed, and Rock Springs, there was an area of perhaps ninety-five miles of nothing but hills and tortuous creek beds. Nowhere in this area was a landing possible without completely wrecking the plane. And with the radiator as it was, the Vought could remain in the air only half long enough to cross these hills! Suddenly Nick heard the doctor’s voice in the darkness, across the field. “House over here!” Wilson yelled. “Over this way.” Nick ran in that direction, his shoes sinking deep into the sand. “There’s a light off through the mesquite,” the doctor declared, when Nick reached him. “I think it’s a farmhouse.” He led the way. A thin gray light was beginning to break over them as they reached the house. Nick explained the circumstances quickly. “We need water for the radiator,” he told the farmer. “And when we get that we’ve got to figure some way to get the ship out of your field.” “I reckon as how we might take a fence down for you on that far side of the field,” the farmer proposed. “That would maybe give you a longer run.” “Take too much time to do that,” Nick objected. “We’re in a hurry. Have you got any old fence posts, or logs, around here?” The farmer considered this with exasperating slowness. “Yes, I reckon you could find a pile of old posts down there near where you’re at now--just across the fence. I’ll call my boys and they can help you. What good’ll fence posts do you?” “I’m going to build a ramp at one end of the field--to throw the ship up into the air. That’s the only way we can get out.”