For a moment he was tempted to go on, and mail the mats back from the next town. But he had promised to put them in the hands of the Berlin editor. Jimmy always tried to make his word as good as his bond. So now, after studying the ground carefully, he picked out the most promising looking spot and came down in a long glide. Just as his ship was about to hit the ground, he gave her the gun for a second, to increase her momentum, set her down on three points, and held his breath. The field was not as wet as it looked, and the mud was only surface mud. His ship rolled safely to a stop. Jimmy was out of her in a flash. Throwing off his parachute, and leaving Carl to guard the plane, he hurried off with his mats. In no time he found the editor of the Berlin paper, delivered the mats and the message, and was back at his ship. But on the way he had stopped at a garage to engage some gasoline. Soon a tank wagon rolled up, and Jimmy’s tanks were quickly filled. Then, waving good-bye to the circle of admiring small boys, Jimmy hopped off. A great, bald-faced, precipitous hill rose to the west of the town. Jimmy circled over the city, to gain altitude. Below him he noticed the great pulp mill and the enormous pile of pulp wood, that rose like a little mountain close beside the river. The whole atmosphere was redolent of the sulphur used in making paper. But Jimmy had little interest now in sightseeing. The instant he had gained sufficient altitude, he darted away to the west, shot between the hills, and sped straight as an arrow to Lancaster, the nearest town on the Connecticut. Then he banked to the left and with throttle opened wide went roaring down the valley of that river, over the same route by which he had come. He dropped Carl at Springfield, after getting his promise that when things were straightened out at home Carl would come to New York to visit him. Again he took off, and this time he did not come to earth again until he landed at his home field. A taxi once more took him to the _Press_ office, where he delivered his news proofs and films to the city editor, then sat down and for a long time worked industriously at his typewriter, putting down on paper the description of what he had seen and learned at Northend. His trip back to Long Island was a pleasant one. Again he had been equal to the occasion. Once more he had made good. But there was one memory of his recent trip that left a bad taste in his mouth. That was the thought of Rand. On several occasions now he had gotten the better of the fellow. Each time Jimmy had triumphed over him, Rand had made his hatred more evident, had tried meaner tricks to thwart Jimmy. But never before had Rand cursed him at sight or seemed so venomously hostile. “I’ll have to watch him carefully,” thought Jimmy. “He is vicious enough to do most anything.” And Jimmy was right, as coming events were to prove. CHAPTER X