Slim Bollei, who had been looking out the window, shrugged his shoulders.

"You're optimistic," he grinned. "It's snowing thicker and harder than at any time this winter."

The weather had turned bitter cold with the wind lashing around the big hangar in a chilling overture.

When Jane started back to the city, she found that the field car which had brought her was stalled. She telephoned for a taxi, but was informed that no machine would be available for at least an hour, so she made herself comfortable in the waiting room which adjoined the office of the night operations chief.

Sue called to learn if they were going to try to get the _Coast to Coast_ through and Jane informed her that she was marooned at the field.

"Maybe I'll be home by morning," she concluded hopefully.

It was half an hour later when the phone on the night chief's desk rang. Jane was near enough to catch most of the conversation for the man on the other end of the wire was shouting.

"Sure, I know there's trouble," the night chief said, "but we aren't moving any of our mail planes. It would be suicide to attempt to fly tonight."

"What's the matter?" asked Slim Bollei.

"It's the governor at Laramie," replied the night chief. "There's been a bad outbreak of diphtheria at Lytton, a village up against the Montana line in the country that G.o.d forgot. The doctor there is out of serum and a couple of the youngsters are desperately ill. There's plenty of serum here and the governor wants us to get a plane through."

The night chief turned back to the telephone.

"But I tell you, governor, it can't be done. You can't see a hundred feet through this storm and the temperature's down to five below zero and dropping fast."

"Wait a minute," cut in Slim Bollei. "Find out what's the least possible time the serum can be used and do any good."

"They've got to have it before tomorrow night," said the night chief when the governor's reply came to him. "Everything else that's tried to get to Lytton has failed. It's a plane or nothing at all."

"Tell him we'll get through some way," snapped Slim. "We can't let kids die without trying."

"But we can't afford to wreck one of the new ships," protested the night chief.

"I'll take one of the old tri-motors. Tell the governor we'll get through."

The flyer turned and walked toward the radio room.

"Get Chicago," he snapped, "and have them put the operations chief on the wire."

Less than a minute later Slim Bollei poured his story over the short wave radio and into the ears of the operations chief at Chicago. He wanted one of the old tri-motors and he got it with the chief's blessing. After that he left on the run to route out a ground crew to get the plane ready for the flight.

Miss Comstock, who had listened gravely, turned to Jane.

"Slim can't go alone," she said. "A nurse will be needed there. I'm going. You take charge here."

"But you're needed more than I am," protested Jane. "Let me go."

Miss Comstock shook her head.

"There's too much danger. Slim and I will go."

"One nurse won't be enough," insisted Jane. "Think what two of us could do, think what it will mean to those youngsters."

Miss Comstock smiled. "You win, Jane. We'll both go."

Outside the shadowy bulk of one of the tri-motors was being wheeled into the hangar. As soon as there was the slightest break in the storm, they would be away on their errand of mercy.

Chapter Twenty-three

White Madness

Miss Comstock, with Jane at her heels, hurried into the commissary.

Supplies must be made ready and food placed aboard the tri-motor. Out in the hangar a crew worked desperately over the big plane, tuning up the motors and checking in the gas and oil.

Slim Bollei, in a sheepskin, appeared to be everywhere, orders cracking from his thin lips.

In half an hour Jane and the chief stewardess had two large hampers ready, one filled with medical supplies and bandages and the other containing food. There was more than a chance that they would be forced down and food might become very much of a necessity.

A car struggled through the storm, bringing the serum out from the city, and Slim Bollei returned to the operations office.

"Everything's ready," he informed the night chief. "How's the weather?"

"Not so good. It's still snowing hard in the mountains and the mercury is eight below now, but it won't drop much further."

"We'll wait another hour and see if we can get away then," decided Slim.

Jane and Miss Comstock sat down in the waiting room, drawing their coats around them, for at eight below zero the heating plant was functioning none too well.

The pilot came in with two fleece-lined coats.

"Better put these on," he advised. "There won't be much heat in the cabin and I don't want to drop down at Lytton with a couple of frozen stewardesses on my hands."

They accepted the coats gratefully and waited for the next reports on the storm.

It was dismal waiting there, with the wind howling around the hangar and the snow driving against the windows. At midnight it was still storming hard and they delayed their departure another hour. But the storm held on and the sky was greying before Slim Bollei decided to make the attempt.

The motors of the huge biplane roared l.u.s.tily in spite of the cold, the hampers and the precious serum were placed aboard, parachutes were adjusted under their coats and the trio, the chief pilot and the two stewardesses, struggled out to the plane.

The cabin was cold and it would take some time before heat from the motors warmed it. Miss Comstock and Jane kept moving about and looking out at the storm. It was still snowing, but the fall was not as thick as it had been during the night. Reports from the west indicated the end of the blizzard was near.

Slim Bollei came back into the main cabin.

"All ready?" he asked.

Miss Comstock nodded.

"See that your chute packs don't foul. If I signal three times on your light you'll know we're in trouble. Four sharp flashes will mean you've got to unload."