"Take him into my office," directed Carl Hunter, who had arrived on the run and overheard Tim's words. Prentiss gathered Ralph in his arms and stalked toward the administration building while Tim and Hunter ran down the ramp. Tim scanned the field. It would be impossible to get the fast Jupiter which the _News_ owned or the American Ace which he and Ralph operated out of their hangars. He turned toward the other planes on the field. It would take a fast ship to get up there in time to stop the crash of the two planes. His eyes rested on McDowell's own monoplane. It was trim and fast and the 300 horsepower motor was capable of pulling it almost vertically skyward. "I'll take McDowell's plane," he told Hunter. The field manager gave him a hand and between them they whipped the ship around and headed it toward the open field. Tim climbed inside, stumbled over the smashed boards which had hidden the secret compartment, and sat down in the pilot's seat. The controls were slightly different from the ships he had been accustomed to flying but he knew he could handle the plane without trouble. He glanced at the gas gauge. The tank was a quarter full. One of the High Flyers ran toward him, protesting on the use of the monoplane, but Hunter waved him back with a curt explanation. Tim turned on the starter and the motor, still warm, caught on the first turn. He was about to give the ship the gun when Prentiss ran toward him, a rifle in hand. The narcotics inspector clambered into the cabin and slammed the door. "Let's go," he shouted. Tim nodded and opened the throttle. The field had been cleared for the stunt and he sped out of the hanger and rocketed into the air. With the motor taking a full flow of gas, he shot the speedy monoplane into the air. They danced skyward in a crazy, climbing turn that saw the earth dropping away from them. "How's Ralph?" Tim shouted. "He'll be all right. Got a nasty bump on his head but there's a doctor patching him up now. He's weak from loss of blood more than anything else." Tim, with the stick jammed back between his knees, was watching the drama of the circling planes. He was careful to keep behind McDowell as much as possible. The old trainers had levelled off and were jockeying for the first dash toward each other. Tim's hands gripped the stick hard as he saw them start. Then he relaxed a little. Ace hadn't waggled his wings. There would be no crash this time. The old ships soared past each other with little room to spare and Tim almost pulled his own ship higher by the sheer tension he was on. Tommy was circling slowly for another dash toward Ace when Tim flashed past him waving frantically. In pantomime he went through the motions of jumping and then shook his head vigorously while Prentiss attempted to indicate to Tommy that his chute was damaged.