Plainer and plainer Jimmy could see the glowing lights below him. He dropped down another hundred feet. Suddenly he heard the marker beacon at Hadley Field. Now he was sure he knew where he was. There were the lights of New Brunswick. Beyond was Metuchen. Much farther away was a glow that must be Perth Amboy. Jimmy thanked his lucky stars. No longer would he have the radio beacon to direct him. He must find his own way. Unless fog arose immediately, there would be no difficulty about that. In a few minutes he would be at his airport. The radio beacon had already ceased to beat in his ears. He was past Hadley Field. He set his course direct for his destination, noted the compass direction, and flew on. Soon he was over Staten Island. He flew above the Narrows and was over Long Island. Below him for miles glowed the lights of Brooklyn. His plane rushed on like an eagle. Soon Brooklyn was behind him. His own field lay just before him. There were fog clouds and shreds of fog, but it was easy enough to see down between them. Another half hour, Jimmy knew, would probably put the whole island under a deep blanket of fog. He had often seen the fog making up as it was now. But he cared nothing at all about what conditions would be like in half an hour. For he was home. His landing field was just under him. He nosed his ship downward, shut off his power, and came down in a long glide. The field was well lighted. He could see the earth perfectly. He put his ship down in a three point landing, and rolled across the turf. Then he taxied rapidly to his hangar, gave a shouted order to fill the gas and oil tanks, threw off his parachute, grabbed his camera, and rushed out to the waiting taxi. In another second he was speeding toward Manhattan. It still lacked several minutes of his deadline when he rushed into the _Press_ office and laid his story on the city editor’s desk. A copy boy ran to the photograph department with his camera. Jimmy sank into a seat. He suddenly felt weak. He was all atremble. It was the let down after the tremendous strain he had undergone. The managing editor came walking out of his office. He held out his hand and shook Jimmy’s warmly. “It was a fine piece of work, Jimmy,” he said. “Handley telegraphed us about you and the bad night. We have followed you all the way across. You had us pretty badly frightened when you told Bellefonte your engine was failing and you were making a forced landing in the mountains. And our relief was great when we found you were patched up and on your way again. It is equalled only by our pleasure in seeing you.” Jimmy looked abashed. Then he lost all sense of self-consciousness as the thought of Johnnie Lee popped into his head.