But the assignment that gave Jimmy the greatest thrill he had had in a long time was an order to fly to the eastern end of Lake Ontario once more, and cover the wreck of a lake steamer. This craft, one of the first ships to make its way from its winter harborage through the disintegrating ice of the lake, had been caught in a terrible gale and dashed on one of the small islands just off Smithville. Jimmy was atingle with enthusiasm the instant he got word from the managing editor. It was already well into the evening. Only a flash had come—the merest hint of the great story that eventually unfolded—saying that the steamer had gone aground on the island. The storm had somewhat abated, though it was still blowing hard. But at the Long Island hangar there was small evidence of any disturbance in the air. “Would it be possible for you to get up there to-night?” asked Mr. Johnson. “Or is it better to wait until morning? If you _could_ reach the scene to-night, we could almost certainly get something into our city edition about the wreck. That goes to press at 3:30 in the morning. But we could hold it, or we could get out an extra. What do you think about it, Jimmy?” “We ought to be able to do it, Mr. Johnson. Of course, it depends upon what the flying is like farther north. But right here the air is quiet enough. At the very least, I could fly until I was forced down. Then I’d be just so much nearer the spot, and could doubtless get there quickly by motor. The only difficulty is the one of landing. There are no beacon lights to guide me and no illuminated landing fields. A fellow always runs a chance of 'washing out’ a ship when he lands in the dark.” “Then you don’t think it advisable to attempt the trip to-night?” “I didn’t say that, Mr. Johnson. I’m going to make the trip. But I wanted you to understand the difficulties. I’ve been over the route, and I can cover it again without difficulty. The night is clear and there is starlight enough to illuminate things a little. I know a number of people at Smithville. I’ll wire to the postmaster and ask him to burn a bucket of gasoline in the field where I landed last winter. I can get down all right, I’m sure. But the wire facilities are not very good up there.” “All right. I’ll get into touch with the Western Union and see if we can’t get a wire ready for your use. You make whatever arrangements are necessary and get off as soon as you can. How long should it take you to reach Smithville?” “Unless I have to fight a stiff wind, I ought to make it in two hours and a half. It’s almost nine now. I ought to get there by midnight at latest. In two hours more I ought to have a story on the wire for you. We ought to catch the city edition without difficulty.” “Very well, make your arrangements and get off. Have your mechanic telephone me the moment you start.”