As he drew near the hangar he noticed great activity. Mechanics were bustling about, ships were on the line, ready to take off, and pilots were getting into their flying togs. Jimmy knew something was in the air. He was just about to ask some one what was up when a mechanic who looked after his ship spied him and shouted: “Call up your office. You are wanted. There’s a big story that broke up in Pennsylvania. I’ve got your ship ready to go at a moment’s notice. She’s been warming up for half an hour.” CHAPTER XI Jimmy is Tricked by His Rival In a moment Jimmy was in telephonic communication with his chief. “There has been a big coal mine disaster, Jimmy,” said Mr. Johnson. “We have just received a despatch from Shenandoah about it. The mine is near that city. More than one hundred men are believed to have been imprisoned in the mine. It is not known how many are dead or whether any of the entombed miners are still alive. We want as complete a story of the disaster as you can gather in a short time, and we particularly want photographs. You’ve got just about time enough to get there and get some photographs before dark. You can pick up your story after you get your pictures. Then hustle back here. If you make as good time as you have made on some other assignments, you can get back here before 10:30. You ought to make it by 11:00 for sure, and you _must_ be here by 11:15. I would send Handley with you, but he is in Phillipsburg on a story. I will try to get into touch with him by phone, and order him to go to Shenandoah, to follow up the story to-morrow.” “I’ll do my best, Mr. Johnson,” said Jimmy. “Good-bye. I’m off.” And in less than no time he _was_ off. The minute Jimmy had reached a safe altitude and was straightened out on his course, he began to consider how he should cover this story. He had never reported the story of a coal mine disaster. He was a little uncertain as to how to get at it. First of all, there was the matter of topography. Shenandoah was in the very heart of the anthracite region in Pennsylvania. That meant it was right among the hills. Jimmy knew the region well. It was almost on the Air Mail route. In fact, in a straight line it was only three miles from Ringtown. But a great ridge—the North Mahanoy Mountain, that towered aloft almost 1,900 feet—rose between Ringtown and Shenandoah. The highway between the two places, circuitous and winding, was probably twice that distance. Jimmy was of course sure that he could make a landing at Ringtown. But whether he could do so at Shenandoah or not, he did not know. The town itself occupied almost every foot of the level land in the little bottom in which it stood. On every side the ground rose sharply.