Once more Jimmy flew south of west to connect with the Air Mail route to Cleveland. A slight breeze was blowing at a higher altitude, so Jimmy went hedge-hopping along to avoid the wind as much as possible. The air seemed “dead” to him. It felt as though a storm might be brewing. So he plugged in with his head phones and listened for the hourly report of the Airways Weather Bureau. He hadn’t long to wait. Soon he heard the wireless man at Hadley Field broadcasting. Jimmy listened intently. He learned that the weather was fair all the way to Cleveland. But the sky was overcast and the ceiling low. Visibility was poor. There was little wind. The prospect was for increasing cloudiness and bad weather. “We ought to make Cleveland all right,” thought Jimmy. “It isn’t quite 400 miles from Hadley to Cleveland. There isn’t any wind to speak of, so I won’t have to stop at Bellefonte for gas. I ought to make the trip from Hadley in close to three hours.” Jimmy looked down and saw that he was already almost abreast of that airport. “In three hours,” he muttered, “I’m _going_ to be in Cleveland. This ship can do it, and I’ll make her do it.” He opened his throttle a little wider, and the plane darted ahead faster than ever. Away they soared, over the flat lands of New Jersey, above the hills of Pennsylvania, almost straight westward. As they drew near Ringtown Jimmy studied the country closely. He wondered if Johnnie were down there watching him. “If he has a good pair of field-glasses,” thought Jimmy, “he will easily be able to identify the plane. We are flying so low that he can see my license number plainly. And he ought to be able to read the name New York _Morning Press_ painted on the sides of the ship. I guess I’ll drop him a greeting.” Hastily he drew a little pad of paper from his pocket, and while he guided the ship with his left hand scribbled this message with his right on the pad, which he placed on his right leg. “Hello, Johnnie. Going to Cleveland. Be back here about 9:30 to-night. Signal me as I go over. If you have a radio sending set, get in touch with me then. Jimmy Donnelly.” Snatching from his pocket his handkerchief and a piece of string, Jimmy passed them over to Handley. “Tie strings to each corner of the handkerchief,” he shouted into his ear, “and make a little parachute. I want to drop a message.” Handley had the parachute made in no time. Jimmy handed him the message for Johnnie. “Tie it fast and put a weight on it,” he shouted. “Look in the desk.”