sudden shifts stopped. I was flying by grace of engine power and inherent stability.
I squirmed in my straps as I felt it. I was helpless, seven thousand feet up, with my throttle full open, flying full speed, wild and unpiloted—with the controls four feet in front of me which I could not touch. I felt myself amuck, a crazy missile in the sky. I shot up, slanting to the left, tipped and started to dive. With the engine on full it frightfully increased the pull of gravity; I zoomed with the ground rushing up to me—when the radio caught me again.
It leveled me off, straightened me and sent me ahead of the three-seater once more; and held me there, as on a leash, for an hour. We were over Ohio, with Lake Erie lying on the left, when I was sent circling and the three-seater passed me and flew on far ahead.
Still circling, I watched it go eastward and diminish to a speck. It was inconceivable that it still piloted me; yet I was piloted, for I was circling, level and steady; but the character of the control had changed. Another pilot, not so abrupt and positive, held me in his hand.
