Page:The Fun of It.pdf/115

Rh no landing marks with which to identify my loca­tion. So I decided to follow the same course that I had held over my last-known location, a little south of west.

Somewhat to the north, a highway with many busy cars soon became visible. I turned to fly be­side that road. So many cars must be going some­where, and I felt I would like to go there, too. In all the vast rolling country below, those automo­biles were the only signs of life except an occasional ranch house or oil derrick at intervals of many miles. I chased that highway across the state into New Mexico, passing only a few unnamed towns, and then, with misgivings, I watched the cars scat­ter for their homes. The road and its traveling population simply oozed away, and I was left lonely and lost.

The sun began to sink. The purple haze of the dry countries rose on the horizon. I desired food. My plane desired gas, or would shortly. I wanted very much to get somewhere before dark.

A small cluster of houses grouped around an oil well, swam into the darkening landscape below me. Cautiously I circled low to see the condition of the ground, and the single wide flat thoroughfare of the little community. Convinced that Main Street was the best visible place to land, I sat down at one end. At high altitudes where the air is thin, it is necessary to make a pretty fast landing, so I am afraid I broke speed ordinances as the Avro Avian rolled smartly through the heart of the city.