Richard Howells Watkins

“ It was how Winship, the great financier and keen judge of men had entrusted his life and his associates’ lives to an unknown pilot merely on his looks.
It told of a mechanic’s blunder and the pilot’s desperate and successful fight to save his passengers in the closed cabin from death by a crash landing or by drowning in the bay.
And it concluded:
The man who stood upright upon the wing of a pilotless plane and snatched fuel from the sky, saving lives with a mixture of courage and skill that would be hard to find even among transport pilots, was King Horn. ”

“ Snarling like an unwilling beast, the ship surged ahead and, at the pressure of King’s hand on the control stick, leaped into the air. The motor was hot and the field—part of the broad Hempstead plain that makes Long Island popular among airmen—was flat and free from obstacles. King did not bother to go after altitude; with thirty-six inches of air between his landing wheels and the ground, he started work. He had a reputation to sustain and a pay check to earn.
Giving her all the gas she would take, he set her on end. One wing cut toward earth. ”

“ She had said that she could stand fools better than she could stand men who played the fool. Played the fool! Well, in a way that was just. He hadn’t thought of it in that way, but certainly a man who could fly a ship with the best of them was a fool when he flew like a crazy kid or a drunken sot. And yet, he had been the exhibition pilot for this circus not for the applause or the notoriety or the money in it, but simply because none of the other pilots were so adept at the stick or in the least eager for the job. ”

“ And now he was in love—had realized he was in love—with Lyle. That made him Frank Cross’ rival.
“Lyle did,” he said frankly. “She called me worse than a fool. And—well, I found out somehow that I cared about what she thought of me.”
Cross nodded. “All right,” he said emotionlessly. “I understand. I can’t suppress your crash. Thousands of people saw it. You’re noted for that sort of thing. It’s news. Can’t suppress it. But I’ll say you’ve quit.”
Syd Scoggins, second in command of the circus, and a flying man himself, came up to them.
“King’s quit, Scoggins,” Franklin Cross told him. ”

“ He caught a taxi and drove to the field which the Grand Trunk Airway had leased. There was nobody around the hangars but three disgruntled mechs.
“The big boss will be down for a hop tomorrow,” one grease monkey told him. “Nothin’ doing around here today. No orders or nothin’. We only got one ship anyhow—a three-motor job—an’ no organization. This here airway is hind end to.”
That afternoon King tried another barnstorming circus, two air schools, a plane-building company and an outfit that did a growing aerial-taxi business. Everybody was glad to see King Horn. ”

“ Tennant,” said Franklin Cross sharply. He seemed thinner, more insignificant than ever as he turned his white, wrathful face on the tall boss of the circus.
“Losing a pilot is all in the game, Frank,” King Horn interposed, flashing his quick smile upon his ruffled friend. “Nobody’d kick about one less—the sky is crawling with ’em.”
King handed over the fire extinguisher to a mechanic.
“She isn’t apt to flame up now,” he told the man. Nodding to the others, he added: “I’ll be moving up to the shack to get Miss Lyle to put some soothing sirup on this scratch.” ”

“ Training the extinguisher, he sent spurt after spurt of fire-killing liquid on the hot exhaust pipe. He was still at this when Franklin Cross, pale of face, big Walt Tennant, the boss of the circus, and a wave of pilots and mechanics reached him.
“That was a quick one,” Walt Tennant commented. The circus boss inspected his pilot and his plane with the same equanimity. The wreckage did not distress him, for he knew that the story which Franklin Cross and other newspaper men would write would bring greater crowds to his field in the days to come. ”

“ From behind, the nervous board of directors looked at him apprehensively as he slipped into one of the control seats in the open operating cockpit.
King Horn looked over his instrument board while Winship took his seat in the cabin and Franklin Cross came forward and sat in the other pilot’s seat, beside him.
“D’you understand all these dinguses?” Cross asked, a trifle nervously, as he saw the array of instruments.
“Certainly,” King Horn answered. “Don’t need most of ’em except for flying blind through a fog or night.” He leaned over and caught the eye of the nearest mechanic. ”

“ Walt Tennant laughed. “I always figured you’d quit sudden—one way or another,” he said. “If I can’t keep you, I can’t. And anyhow, a young fellow that sort of fancies the way he throws a ship around has been plaguing me for a job.” ”

“ King Horn flushed at that last sentence. He did not notice that Tennant was surveying him keenly from under his thick, black eyebrows.
“It’s easy to fill a fool’s job, I guess,” King said slowly. “They’re sort of plentiful. Well, see you later, Walt.”
“So long,” Tennant replied. “Any time you change your mind, King⸺ There’s nobody that can throw thrills and chills into a crowd like you.”
King Horn took another turn about the edge of the field, just to make sure that Lyle had really gone. While he searched he came upon Franklin Cross glumly punching holes in the ground with his stick. ”

“ They preferred the dull round of passenger carrying; he had been willing enough to sling a ship around a bit to attract a crowd and win the circus a decent notice in the newspapers.
“I guess lately I’ve been sort of reckless,” he muttered. “Since we leased this field—since Frank Cross and the other newspaper men have been doing that stuff about me being the Ace of Deuces—the ‘King of Crashers’—well, I guess I must have been trying to outdo myself.”
He nodded his head. “A man can’t compete against himself and win,” he reasoned. “That way the flying gets wilder every day. ”

“ King Horn said. His heart was thumping, but he kept his voice as casual as he could. “You understand I’m not gunning for Nat Scoggins’ job.”
Winship looked at him again. Obviously this young man was a pilot. He certainly looked like one and the aviation editor of the Era said that he was a good one. Moreover, he had acted quickly in the recent emergency—even more quickly than Scoggins, who had been nearer to him.
“We will carry on,” Winship decided. “That’s what men do in aviation—carry on.”
“Right!” said King Horn. “’By, Lyle.” He looked at her. “I’ll be back.” ”

“ King Horn is through. Rising from the wreckage of his thirteenth crashed plane yesterday afternoon at the Long Island field where the Tennant Circus is operating, King Horn announced that never again would he tempt death. ”

“ Glancing up at the biplane, which was behind the bigger ship. King Horn motioned Syd Scoggins to come on.
“Look here,” King said rapidly to Franklin Cross. “I know you’re not a pilot, but now’s a healthy time to learn. Sit at that wheel. If she dives pull the wheel an inch or two toward you; If she shows less speed on that air-speed meter than is there now, push the wheel away a bit. ”

“ After that he arrayed himself with great care in what is generally considered the conventional attire of a civilian aviator. He wore his only pair of whipcord knickers, with high Cordovan boots, a gray-flannel shirt and a leather coat. ”