“She’s here all right anyway,” he thought. “I’ll have to talk to the pilot.” The drifting rain seemed thicker and harder blown in the gathering darkness. He wished suddenly that all his planes were safely tucked in for the night. “Act of God!” he thought ironically. “‘Fire, and hail; snow and vapors, stormy wind fulfilling his word!’” Over thousands of square miles the rain was falling, and wind was swirling, and clouds were creeping closer and closer to earth. Over the hump at Donner Pass snow was falling thickly, and perhaps in the air over the treacherous Tehachapis there were icing conditions. He checked off his four enemies—turbulence, icing, radio disturbance, low ceilings. Also he had his allies—cunningly built planes, powerful engines, de-icing devices, radio-beams, trained pilots. But most of all he counted upon telephone which let him know the weather any minute at any of his stations, and radio which let him order his pilots to land at some mid-way point, or even to turn back and seek safety at the airport from which they had started.

10

“Well, good-bye, Jen; good-bye, Mr. Arnim. Drive carefully. How you youngsters tear around—get in after midnight and start back that evening. It’s a shame this rain had to come up and spoil your trip. It’ll make you pretty late getting home. Remember me to my friends in Reno. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye, Dot!”

“Good-bye.”

The car moved off down the street, and Dot waved from the doorway. That Max Arnim’s a nice boy, she thought; Jen could do a lot worse. Maybe they really were interested. Through the drifting rain she saw the moving car and the momentary dull marks it left on the shining wet asphalt. It turned the corner and was gone.

11

If he was too late in getting to Colusa, he would not be able to see his man, and might miss the sale of flour he was expecting. He had been delayed in leaving San Francisco, and also the rain had slowed him down. Now it was growing dark; he pushed on as fast as he could, driving the limit on the wet road. But he had confidence in his own skill, and he knew that his car was in perfect condition.

He was on the look-out for Tom and George’s Service Station where he was to leave the main highway and take the cutoff. He did not want to miss it, for he could save five minutes at least. Nevertheless, he was right there before he noticed, and not daring to throw on his brakes too hard because of the wet road, he ran by. For a moment he thought that he might as well go through on the main road; then, being a man of set purpose, he backed up to the service station and turned north into the secondary highway.