The Wolf Point herald. (Wolf Point, Mont.) 1913-1940, 1929-09-13

We have been flying an hour and
a half. The flowers have come
my way numerous times. as Ut
and down currents toss us about.
He is nosing her down, flying low
e a high plateau. There is a
sheer drop of 700 feet, and ahead
of us is a landing field and SER
vicing station. This is Rock
Springs. We give the good ship
some high-powered food, feel the
pulse of the trusty motor, and
away we go for Cheyenne, Wyom-
ing, u next stop.
Cheyenne
1t is now 1906 a. m. We have
been in the air four hours-did
not make any notes between Rock
Springs and here. The country is
very rough and arid-high ranges,
deep valleys, and sun-baked flats;
ranches more numerous-meditat-
ed over the h|ardships that must
have been encountered by the
hardy pioneer who trekked across
these areas from the Mississippi
Valley with their covered ox-drawn
carts and wagons, covering in a
month what | am now in an hour.
Here at Cheyenne two Dutchmen
one Herman Won Hingleman and
a JOhan Kressman-come out to
the air field to greet me. They
had read in an evening Salt Lake
City paper that 1 was a passenger
on the Boehing plane, on my way
to board the Zeppelin for Ger
many, so they were interested and
wished me a happy and safe jour
ney, and also asked me to greet
their relations over there for
them-one in Hamburg and others
in Bavaria. Bobby Thompson, the
pilot, and our good ship remain
here, while the mail, the flowers,
and l are transferred into another
Just like it. The country is now
leveling out into wide ~table-lands,
and it is beginning to appear more
prosperous and more settled. We
fly at an altitude of about five
thousand feet; a rather thick haze
appears ahead of us; little wind,
and evidently quite warm down
on terra firma. A wide dry river
appears, then another to the north
with water in tit must be the
Platte, and so I know we are in
Nebraska. The haze is heavy and
visibility poor. Hey! What? The
motor has just spluttered-there
is an abrupt stop to its pleasant
drone-and if there is anything
an aviator doesn't like it's when
this happens. He noses the ship
earthward quickly; the flowers
again greet me; I sit up straight
and look for a place to land; then
instantly the gas again comes to
the carburatOr, and our motor
roars with renewed vigor, and we
soon regain the altitude lost.
Now we are shooting down to a
beautiful landing field alongside
the Platte river, and find it to
be North Platte, Nebraska. Right
away I ask the pilot what happen
ed up there awhile ago, and he
quietly informed me that n gas
tank emptied and the little lapse
was caused while he turned on
a new supply. Now a Western
Union messenger advises that a
Rush" message awaits me at
Omaha approximate an effort to
have it relayed, but Uncle Sans
mail must be on it's way, and we
take the air again, while | am
puzzled at what this Rush" mes
sage may contain-has it rained
in Montana? is wheat lower? did
the Yep break another crank
shaft? did the Froid cop make an
arrest? was there an auto acct
dent, a wedding or a birth ! should
be intensely interested in? Oh!
his suspense is awful-wish there
we're some one here to talk to.
2ah! here come the flowers again;
here, stay now. l have pushed this
back so often and so forcibly
nat it's now cracked in the mid
lie, and a red rose peers out to e
,eet neal red, fresh, and r
.agrant. 1 feel better nova q