Dorothy Dixon Wins Her Wings. Wayne Dorothy

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      "Gradually getting better-pretty painful, but then I'm used to this sort of thing."

      "Poor boy!" she exclaimed sympathetically, then gritted her teeth in the effort to keep their course as a huge comber crashed slightly abeam the nose.

      Bill grasped the side of her seat for support. "You handled that one nicely," he approved when the wave had swept aft. "But don't bother about me-you've got your own troubles, young lady. I'll be all right in a few minutes."

      "What I can't understand," said Dorothy, after a moment, "is why this plane didn't sink when you landed and picked me up. How did you keep from slewing broadside and going under?"

      "Well, it was like this. When I left you on the beach, I motored back home to New Canaan. The sky was blackening even then. I was sure we were in for the storm, so after putting up the car, I went out to the hay barn in that ten acre field where we house the old bus. She needed gas, so I filled the tanks, gave her a good looking over and went back to the house and telephoned."

      "You mean you phoned the beach club about me?"

      "Yes. The steward said you weren't anywhere around the club, and your sloop wasn't in the inlet. It was pretty dark by then and the wind was blowing a good thirty-five knots. I made up my mind you must be in trouble. Frank ran after me on my way out to the plane-he's our chauffeur you know-"

      "Yes, I know-" broke in Dorothy-"he drove you and your father to the movies last night. I saw him."

      "That's right. Frank's a good scout. He wanted to come along with me, but I wouldn't let him."

      "I s'pose you thought you'd save his skin, at least?"

      "Something like that. A fellow doesn't mind taking responsibility for himself-it's a different thing with some one else. Well, before Frank and I ran this plane out of the barn, I rigged the sea anchor (nothing more than a large canvas bucket with a couple of crossed two-by-twos over the top to keep it open) with an extra long mooring line. The sea-anchor I brought up here in the cockpit with me. The other end of the line was fastened to a ring-bolt in the nose, of course. Well-to get through with this yarn-I took off alone and flew over to the Sound."

      "But wasn't it awful in this wind?"

      "It was pretty bad. As soon as I got over water, I switched on the searchlight, but it was a good half-hour before the light picked you up. Then I landed-"

      "Into the wind or with it?" interrupted Dorothy.

      "Getting interested, eh?" commented Bill with a smile. "Well, just remember this then, never make a downwind landing with a seaplane in a wind blowing over eighteen miles an hour."

      "Why?"

      "Because the wind behind your plane will increase the landing speed to the point where you will crash when you strike the water-that's a good reason, isn't it?"

      "Then you landed into the wind when you came down for me?"

      "That's right. And as soon as I struck the water, I shut off the motor, opened one of these windows and threw over the sea anchor. Then I fished you out with the boathook."

      "It sounds sort of easy when you tell it-but I'll bet it wasn't." She gazed at him admiringly. "You surely took some awful chances-"

      "Hey there!" called Bill. "Pull back the stick or you'll nose over."

      "That's better," he approved as she obeyed his order. "Keep it well back of neutral. Sorry I yelled at you," he grinned.

      Bill got to his feet. "I'm O.K. now," he went on, "and you must be pretty well done up. I'm going to take it over."

      Seating himself on her lap, as she had sat on his, he placed his feet upon hers. A minute later, she had drawn her feet back from the rudder pedals, slipped out from under and was seated on the floor, rubbing life back into her feet and legs, as Bill had done.

      "Why is it," she inquired presently, "that the plane rides so much smoother when you're guiding her?"

      Bill smiled. "When I give her right pedal, that is, apply right rudder, I move the stick slightly to the left and vice versa. In that way I depress the aileron on the side I want to sail. It aids the rudder. You got along splendidly, though, and stick work when taxiing needs practice."

      Dorothy got to her feet, rather unsteadily. "Look!" she cried. "Lights ahead. We must be nearing shore, Bill."

      "We are. There's a cove out yonder I'm making for. And better still, the wind is lessening. Just about blown itself out, I guess."

      In another ten minutes they sailed in through the mouth of an almost landlocked inlet and with the motor shut off drifted in comparatively smooth water.

      "Any idea where we are?" inquired Dorothy, when Bill, after throwing out the anchor, came back to her.

      "Somewhere between Norwalk and Bridgeport, I guess," he replied. "There are any number of coves along here. I'll take you ashore, now. We've got a collapsible boat aboard. Not much of a craft, but it'll take the two of us in all right. We'll go over to one of those houses, and get your father on the phone. He can come down and drive you back to New Canaan."

      "Drive us both back, you mean!"

      "Sorry-but it can't be done. I've got to take this old bus home as soon as the wind dies down a little more."

      "How long do you suppose that will be?" asked Dorothy quietly.

      Bill glanced up at the black, overcast sky and then turned his gaze overside and studied the water toward the inlet's mouth.

      "Oh, in about an hour I'll be able to take off."

      "Then I'll wait and fly back with you."

      "You certainly are a sportsman," he applauded and looked at his wrist watch. "It's only ten to six-though anyone would think it was midnight. I'll tell you what-suppose I shove off in the dinghy. I'll row ashore and telephone your Dad from the nearest house. He will be half crazy if he knows you were out sailing in that blow and haven't reported back to the club. In the meantime, you might scare up something to eat. There's cocoa, condensed milk, crackers and other stuff in the cabin locker nearest the stove. You must be starved-I know I am!"

      They were standing on one of the narrow decks that ran from amidships forward to the nose of the plane below the pilot house.

      "The very thought of food makes me ravenous," declared Dorothy, starting for the cabin door. "Give Dad my love and say I'm all right-thanks to you!" she threw back over her shoulder-"Tell him to put back dinner until seven-thirty-and to have an extra place laid. In the meantime I'll dish up a high tea to keep us going."

      Within the cabin, she set water on the two-burner electric stove to boil. While it was heating she let down the hinged table and set it with oilcloth doilies, that she found, together with other table necessities in a cupboard next the food locker. She discovered some bread and a number of other eatables stowed away here, as well as the things Bill had mentioned.

      Twenty minutes later, Bill returned to find the table set with cups of steaming cocoa and hot toasted sandwiches spread with marmalade.

      "I'll say you're some cook, Dorothy!" He pulled up a camp stool, and seated himself at the table. "This is a real party!"

      "There isn't any butter-" began Dorothy doubtfully.

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