For some time Jimmy rode with only the roar of his own engine and the buzzing of the radio beacon reaching his ears. He was certain, however, that he must be near Bellefonte. The radio beacon signals came so loudly. Suddenly, above the steady buzz of the directional beacon came the sharp signal of the Bellefonte marker beacon. Jimmy drew a breath of relief. “Halfway,” he muttered, “and everything as fine as silk.” Hardly had he heard the marker beacon before a voice sounded in his ears: “This is Bellefonte Weather Bureau speaking to Jimmy Donnelly, of the New York _Morning Press_. As nearly as we can judge by the sound of your engine, you are directly over the field. Fog continues bad throughout Pennsylvania. Wind remains unchanged—southwest, twenty-five miles an hour. Conditions much better after you pass the mountains. Some fog in New Jersey and may be more before you get there.” Instantly Jimmy answered through his sending set. “This is Jimmy Donnelly speaking to Bellefonte,” he said. “Your message received. Thanks ever so much. Have you any information about weather between Hadley Field and Long Island?” “No,” came the reply, “but will tell Hadley to get latest information and talk to you as you go by. Good luck to you.” “Please tell Long Island I am coming,” said Jimmy. “I ought to hit there about ten o’clock. Please ask the radio man there to listen in for me about that time. I’ll get in touch with him after I pass Hadley. Thanks ever so much.” Jimmy went sailing straight on through the fog. Ahead of him lay the worst place on the entire mail route, the Woodward Pass. But he was light of heart. He knew where he was, he knew how high he had to be to pass safely over the mountains, and he had no fear of losing his way. Had he been left to reckon out his position himself, he would have been worried and uncertain, no matter how regularly his propeller turned, no matter how accurate his clock. But with the radio keeping him on the course and telling him the precise moment when he passed over Bellefonte, there could be neither doubt nor uncertainty. So he flew on, almost jubilant. He was making the schedule he had set for himself. He felt sure he was going to succeed.