The Hardin tribune-herald. [volume] (Hardin, Mont.) 1925-1973, 1935-08-30
PART TWO
FORCED LANDING

FORCED LANDING
Russell Brown drove into Mercer air
port that morning just as he had on
many mornings. He parked his car in
the usual place beside the hangar and
unfolded his long frame Of a body out
cabin airplane on the line whose motor
wa already tuning up. He saw his
mechanics fat and beaming face look
ing out at him through the glass Of the
pilots cockpit. He stopped by the tip
Of the wing to listen to the motor.
He saw the fine snow dust of the six
inch fall of the day before being pick
ed up by the shining disk of the whirl-
ing propeller and swirled backwards
over the tail surfaces. He felt the bit
ing cold wind IN his face, but didn't
turn up his coat collar because he was
%straining to hear any irregularity in the
sharp, cracking beat of that motor. He
was worried about it. Finally he slow
lly and thoughfully nodded his head to
his mechanic. Sounds all right from
chanic'S hand start backward with the
throttle and heard the tapering roar
of the motor easing down to the pop
ping idling beat of a few hundred
R. P. M.
He walked toward the door of the
ship, ducked his head toward the front
OF the ship and hurried up his move
ments a. he entered the icy cold blast
OF the Slip stream to reach for the door
knob. With a quick twist of the knob
and a GREATNESS little scramble he
Tor of the cabin. He walked up to the
pilots cockpit, waited for his mechanic
to crawl out, and crawled in and sat
down.
Els she still rough?" he asked,
turning his head toward his mechanic,
who crouched now behind him, looking
over his shoulder.
"No, she seems all right to me-" his
mechanic answered. "She turns up a
turns up. I've checked everything and
can find nothing wrong"
"Okeh," Russell said resignedly. "You
might as well pull the blocks now. I'll
hold her on the brakes until the old
man comes"
He waited until his mechanic had
crawled out and pulled the blocks from
in front Of the wheels, then he stamped
down hard on the brakes and opened
frosty air sounded all right, but he
thought it still felt rough. There was
no use saying anything to his mechanic
though. He knew his mechanic was a
thorough and reliable man. If he could
find nothing wrong with the motor
there was probably nothing wrong with
it. It was probably his Imagination.
Maybe he was getting old. Maybe he
vas losing his nerve. Getting fussy
was no use denying it. The motor tun-
ed up perfectly and sounded all right.
Funny though, he thought, that I
should have thought for the last three
mornings, ever since this motor came
out OF the overhaul shop, that it felt
rough.
He eased the throttle back and sat
and waited with the popping Of the idl-
ing motor in his ears. He looked out
of the cockpit windows across the snow
expanse of the little airport to the little
town of Mercer in the distance. He
could see the smoke curling up from
some of the chimneyS of the houses on
the airport side of town. He could
see the tall cluster of buildings in the
middle of the business district. Beyond
that, on the other side of town, al
though he couldn't see it at the NOM
ent, was his house. He pictured his
the feeding of the baby now. She was
probably starting her own breakfast.
After that
He saw the old man just swinging
into the airport entrance in his car.
He took his idling mind from its wan
dering thoughts and opened his idling
motor up with a couple of businesslike
blurps, which served to clear the motor
out from its idling as well as to i'm
press his boss.
The old mans car stopped in a little
cloud of snow alongside the ship. The
old man, bundled to the ears, got out
and got into the ship. His wife was
with him this morning. Russ didn't
like to see the wife. She was v
about flying. He would have to fly the
ship with kid gloves that morning with
her in it. He hated flying nervous
people.
The old man wasn't ervous He had
flown in the war as an observer. He
had a lot of quits. as a matter of fact.