Tacoma. The old tri-motors which had
braved the elements through winter and summer for four years were to be
retired. The new ships would have two engines, of 600 horsepower each,
and would speed along at 180 to 190 miles an hour, with a top speed of
210.

Jane asked Charlie Fischer about the planes, but Charlie professed to
be in almost complete ignorance.

"We've got to go to school and learn how to handle them," he said. "I'm
starting for Tacoma tomorrow night. I hear they're all metal with the
latest do-dads the inventors can stick on them. Pretty soon we'll have
to have an expert along to tell the pilot what to do."

All of the ace pilots of the line were called to Tacoma at various
intervals to see the new planes. Charlie returned enthusiastic.

"They're the greatest ships ever built," he told Jane and Sue, the
first time he saw them after his return. "Why we'll be able to outrun
the lightning. They carry ten passengers, two pilots and a stewardess,
although I don't know why they want the latter tagging along."

"Seems to me, Charlie," interrupted Sue, "that once or twice you've
been mighty glad to have a stewardess on the ship."

"Must have been some other fellow," grinned Charlie. "Just wait until
you see your pantry. The whole thing's done in the latest stainless
metal. My instrument board looks like an inventor's paradise, but I
guess I'll be able to figure out what all of the gauges and dials are
for."

Interest in the new planes ran high and the first test flight across
the entire system was set for October 2nd. According to the tentative
schedule, they would clip at least eight hours off the coast to coast
time.

Jane hoped that she would get the first assignment, for she was back in
active service, but Grace drew the coveted slip, which gave her the
right to care for the passengers on the initial flight of the new queen
of the air.

They watched the progress of the swift craft from the moment it left
the Golden Gate. As many of the Cheyenne crew as possible grouped about
the radio in the communications office. With a favoring tail wind, the
pilots west of Cheyenne kept the average at better than 190 miles an
hour, including stops. It was fast enough to make them almost dizzy.

"I'll bet I never get a deep breath from here to Chicago," smiled
Grace, as the silver monoplane settled down on the Cheyenne field.

The new craft was a thing of beauty, all metal, with one low wing. The
propellers we