blue eyes peering out at the desolate moonlit landscape that careened rapidly up at us. "Find out what's wrong!"
Rocking on my feet, I floundered up to the driver, and nudged his fat shoulder.
"Hey, Mister Chunky!" I shouted. "What in the world—"
I broke off with a gurgle when I saw his face.
Our affable driver's moon-like puss had become a frozen mask. His chubby mouth was curved in a puzzled smile; his eyes were peculiarly glassy, like a stuffed owl's.
"Susie!" I gargled, painfully gulping for air. "I think our driver has gone nuts!"
"What!" Susie May squealed. "Well, don't stand there like a nincompoop! Do something!"
"You know I don't know anything about airplanes," I said meekly. "I'm a bookkeeper." I glanced out the window at the fast-approaching earth. "And it looks like we're much too near the ground to bail out."
My eyes rested on my girl's frightened reproachful orbs apologetically. "I'm sorry, Susie May. Looks like we're going to crash!"
SUSIE MAY loosed a dismal coyote's wail.
I shook our driver's shoulders frantically.
My eyes turned down at his gloved hands, on the controls.
"Mister Ch—" I shouted.
I cut off abruptly, as I clung desperately to the edge of the driver's seat to maintain my balance. I became suddenly aware that his hands were maneuvering the controls expertly. His face was a Zombie’s, but his hands were deftly at work. He was making a landing deliberately!
I was so surprised, I let go. Suddenly he swung the plane around, apparently to dodge some object on the rough terrain along which the plane now taxied. An object which he couldn't possibly see! His glassy eyes were rolled up and staring fixedly at the ceiling.
Kerplunk!
I went down like a ten-pin. My head cracked open on something hard and sharp, and a galaxy of stars oozed in. Suns, all mixed up with rolling pins and squacking Donald Ducks . . .
I groaned. Then at last I came out of it. My head rested on a cushion held in Susie May's lap. She was in the act of swabbing my noggin with something cool and soothing.
"It's all right, Lem," she said, smiling down at me crookedly. "At least—" She side-glanced around her furtively. "I hope it is!"
"Where are we?" I queried groggily. "What's that humming noise?"
"We're flying again," she told me in a tense whisper. "To Las Vegas—I hope. We only landed long enough to pick up a passenger."
She glanced over her shoulder fearfully.
"Who—" I started up indignantly. The driver had no right to pick up other passengers. We had chartered the plane for ourselves alone. It cost a pretty penny, too.
I pulled up, wincing at the cutting pain in my head. After I could sit up decently, I turned around sharply to have a look at the man we'd picked up.
I had it in my mind to tell him a thing or three. But definitely. Who did he think he was, anyhow?
He sat directly behind us in the other double seat. He was burrowed down in a heavy black overcoat, and surrounded by suitcases and boxes of every shape and size.
He was a smallish man, with slender
