A few minutes later, the engine had warmed up, full power test against brakes worked, waves exchanged between pilot and tower confirmed that the runway was clear, and they were airborne.

“You gentlemen are comfortable back there?” Cornelius asked.  “We may hit a few updrafts until we’ve reached altitude, so you may want to hold off on the coffee.”

Two gentle turns brought them to the Atchison, Topeka, Santa Fe rail line.  Below them, a column of smoke marked locomotive hauling its coal car and caboose slowly northward.

“Fellow down there isn’t moving very fast,” Charles observed.  “Of course, they don’t know where the break in their line is.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Andrew said.  “I come back with photographs or I don’t get paid much.”

“You should see them on the rail line straightaway toward Los Angeles,” Cornelius offered. “I can be at full throttle, not just this cruising speed, and they are passing me underneath.  Actually, we’re well under cruising speed, doing just 50 miles an hour, because someone might see something and want me to come around so you can look at it again. “

“You fly this route often?” Charles asked.  “Asking because you might spot something interesting that I’d miss.”

“I’m keeping my eyes open,” Cornelius answered. “So long as we don’t hit rough air, I really don’t have much to do. The engine temperature is just right, the radiator isn’t leaking, the engine sounds as though it just had a tuneup, which it did, and we’ve got plenty of fuel. So far, I just see the rail line. We’re still climbing, not real fast, because the ground goes up a bit.”

“Railroad said they could talk to signal towers for close to twenty miles in,” Andrew said.  “My night editor got a tip, checked, finally thought to call me in.  And you were flying the Major anyhow.”