"I always get a thrill watching those high speeds come in. There's something in it that gets into my blood and makes it tingle." "They're the finest transport planes in the world," nodded Hunter. "I'd like to fly one of them," mused Tim. Hunter looked at Tim shrewdly. The flying reporter was slender but his muscles were like tensed steel. His blue eyes were clear and unwavering. There was a pleasant twist to his lips but from experience the field manager knew that they could snap into an uncompromising line of determination. "I'll get you a job on the Transcontinental any day you want one," he said. "Come over to my office and fill out the application blank." "That would mean leaving the _News_," said Tim. Then, as Hunter grinned broadly, he added, "I guess the smell of printer's ink is stronger than the call of the skyways. I'm a reporter first and a flyer second." "I wouldn't rank either of your abilities ahead of the other. You're first class at both." "Thanks, Carl. That reminds me. Have one of the boys finish up this job. Give all of the plugs a good cleaning. I'd almost forgotten I've got another column to write for my department in tomorrow's paper." "I'll make out a work ticket right away." Tim slipped out of his jumper and followed the field manager toward the main hangar. The usual crowd of curious people was lined up inside the ropes to watch the passengers as they disembarked. Tim, always on the lookout, scanned them as they came down the steps from the plane. Two attractive girls were first. They looked as though they might be movie actresses. He'd check the passenger list with the stewardess to make sure. An actress was always worth a paragraph or two. The last man to leave the ship drew Tim's attention. There was something vaguely familiar in the carriage of the head and the set of the jaw. The stewardess came by and Tim hailed her. "Who's the tall, well-built fellow in the gray suit?" he asked. The girl scanned the passenger list. "Sorry, I can't tell you. He isn't listed." "What do you mean by that? Is he traveling on a pass?" "Hardly. I collected his fare in Chicago and he's getting off here." "Then you must know his name." "He didn't give me his name and instructions from the general manager were to do as he directed so I've listed him on my seat chart as 'Mr. Seven.' That's the chair he occupied on the trip out." Tim thanked the stewardess and hurried into Carl Hunter's office. "Who's the mysterious man who came in on the _Day Express_?" "He's just as mysterious to me as he is to you," replied the field chief. "Why don't you ask him what it's all about? I've had a radio from the general manager to extend him every courtesy and not to ask questions, but I guess that doesn't cover you." "Asking questions is one of the things I do best," grinned Tim as he left the office.