The old trainers had been kept in the hangars where a field crew had given them a hasty coat of paint that morning. They glistened bravely in their new dress and the motors, which were turning over slowly, sounded sweet. Tim inspected the ship that Tommy was to fly. If it held together long enough to get to 2,000 feet Tommy would be lucky but with a chute on, he'd be able to get out if anything happened before they straightened out for the crash. McDowell's ship was in better condition. It was well rigged and Tim, squinting under the hood, was surprised to see a big Barko 16-cylinder motor turning the prop over. The old plane's lines were good. It was still plenty fast enough to give the average modern ship a good race. Too bad to sacrifice a sturdy old veteran like that just to appease the thrill-seekers. Tim looked around for Ralph, who had gone over to the pilot's room in the administration building. His companion was nowhere in sight but McDowell and Tommy, their chute packs banging awkwardly against their legs, were making their way toward the hangar. McDowell's own monoplane had been rolled inside. McDowell was giving Tommy final instructions as they entered the hangar. "We'll take our time getting up to 2,000," he said. "Then we'll circle around and make several false rushes at each other. After three or four times I'll waggle my wings and the next time we'll let them go. We'll be west of the field where the ships won't do any damage when they crash. Stick with them as long as you can and then go overboard. Got that all straight?" Tommy, a little grim, nodded. "I'll handle my end of it," he said, climbing into the cockpit of the ancient trainer. McDowell, eyes narrowed to slits as hard as steel, looked at the crowd. "They're going to get a real thrill," he said savagely, smacking his clenched hands together. Tim looked at him curiously. McDowell outwardly wasn't nervous yet he appeared to be laboring under a great strain. Could he suspect Tommy's real identity? The question burned itself into Tim's mind. If McDowell was suspicious he might fake the crash and after Tommy went over the side, roar away in the trainer. That might explain why the old ship had such a powerful motor. Tim stepped over to Tommy's ship and climbed up so he could yell into Tommy's ear. "I don't like the way McDowell looks," he said. "Be careful." Tommy nodded. "I'm not taking any chances this afternoon. The first thing that looks funny will find me going over the side in the chute." The loud speakers were blaring. The field was being cleared and the tension in the crowd increased. "In the Number one plane," boomed the announcer, "is Ace McDowell. In the Number two ship is Tommy Larkin. Here they come." The flyers gunned their motors and the old ships, gleaming under their coat of hastily applied paint, rolled out on the ramp.