Willard Middle School - Target Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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We were flying along when we hit an air pocket. The next instant there was an explosion, probably due to an overheated gas tank. The plane pancaked down, and Baker and I were safe. I was lucky not to be killed as I was near the front. Could I quote you as saying you saw nothing to suggest a planned accident? I believe so, but why do you ask? The authorities have thought that perhaps the co-pilot ' s jealousy of the pilot caused trouble, said Starling. Towers ' face brightened and he asked, Is that all, gentlemen? No, there ' s another thing I want to ask. Did you notice anything that could have shaken the co-pilot just before the flight? Why, no! In fact I didn ' t see him. Here, take a drink of water! cried Starling, as Towers looked very ill. Roberts and I examined the engine. We observed that one piston looked like metal fused by liquid air, but I needn ' t tell you this, since you used liquid air for your own murderous ends! Towers started out of bed, but Starling quickly handcuffed him. He looked so violently ill I asked, Shall I call a nurse? No, Roberts, call a policeman. On the way home, my curiosity got the better of me. How in the world did you unravel that problem, Starling? I asked. I first decided that it was a murder when I saw the explosion had been from inside the engine. Then I saw that only liquid air could have made the explosion. As I told you before, the only way for the liquid air to get into the engine was with the gasoline. I checked the feed lines and found parts of a bottle used for handling liquid air in the gas tank in the wing. This checked with Mr. Baker ' s story. I was searching for the intended victim when I noticed that both Mr. Martin, the co-pilot, and Towers had flown in the war. I inquired and found that Towers and Martin had been in the same unit in France. On further inquiry, I learned that Towers and an officer were flying in a bomber protected by Martin in a pursuit plane. Then the officer was killed by the Germans. I took a guess that Towers had killed the officer, Martin being the only witness. Martin ' s agitation on seeing Towers at the airport proved that to me. From all, I deducted that Towers knew Martin was flying on this route. His conscience probably had been torturing him so he hit upon this scheme to kill Martin and himself at the same time. He obtained some liquid air, put this into a bottle, and put the bottle into the gas tank. When the plane hit the air pocket, the bottle broke against the side of the tank. The liquid air flowed into the motor, exploding in the first cylinder it reached. Luckily all the passengers were not killed, and the newspaper man decided to start life with a clean slate now that the one man who could witness against him was dead. He probably would have done so, if two meddling persons had not started an investigation. Charles Bell.

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inch, you can imagine its tremendous power. Liquid air fuses metal when in contact with flame, and that explains the condition of the piston. Well, who was the murderer? said I. That remains to be seen, but first we must know the intended vic- tim. Here is what I have learned about the passengers: the pilot, David Burwick, killed, born 1909 in Boston, has been a pilot about a year, just transferred to this route, well liked by all. It isn ' t likely that he ' s the one. Co-pilot, James Martin ,killed, born 1898 in Omaha, flew in the war, been on this route about a year and a half, a bit grouchy. Maybe he was the murderer. He was probably jealous of the young pilot, said I. Let ' s get them all, answered Starling. Carl White, killed, born 1900 in New York, had been fairly successful in business. He was going to see about the sale of some wheat. Lawrence Towers, born 1897 in Denver. He flew in the war and brought down the plane safely when his pilot was shot down by Germans. He is a newspaper reporter now and was there to get a story of the flight. He got a story. Have you read his write-ups of the accident? Yes, I answered. He poses as the hero. To continue: John Baker, born 1901 near St. Paul. He had worked his way up in the company that owned the plane and was along to report on the plane ' s performance. He says he heard a strange noise in the gas tank, which, he thinks, was a leak. There you are: three dead, a company official with a broken arm, and a newspaper reporter only bruised and scratched. What do you make of it? Nothing at all. In fact I don ' t believe it was a murder, I ventured to say. I hardly expected a lawyer to believe me, said Starling, chuckling. The more I think about it the more— —Let me see those names again, Roberts? Peculiar that— -Why, I have it all now! I have to follow up this clue, Roberts. Meet me at the Downtown Hotel at 8 o ' clock to- night. With these words, Starling left the room. I must admit that I was completely puzzled over the case, but I decided to be patient. Eight o ' clock found Starling leading me out of the hotel into a wait- ing taxi. When the taxi rolled to a stop, we were in front of a hospital. But Starling, I protested, here you have dragged me to this hospital without a word of explanation. You will pardon me if I seem neglectful, he replied as we entered the hospital, but I have been planning my next move. We have come here to see Towers, the newspaper reporter. He seems to be making the best of his misfortune. Inside an open door we saw a photographer taking pictures of a man in bed. We caught expressions like these: Get a worried look on your face; don ' t forget you have had a terrible experience; what luck! best story I ever got; that ' s better — hold it; ' bye! When the photographer was through, we entered, and Starling said, Good evening, Mr. Towers. I am from the airplane company, and I want your version of what happened.

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Loyalty ' ° a Agister John, a boy of twelve, was sitting on the doorstep with a frown on his face. Here he was, left all alone with the exception of his dog Jumbo. The cause of this scowl was because his friends had gone on a hike and left him alone. He kicked Jumbo, and the dog let out a howl of pain. Out of the window he heard a familiar voice calling him. What did his mother want anyway? Running down the driveway and turning into the road, he was followed unheard and unseen by Jumbo. Well, at least he had escaped running on an errand. Then he had an inspiration. He would go swimming! He would teach his friends. It was a warm spring day too. It was so far to walk to Out- line Pool that he thought it did not matter to hook a ride. Jumping on the back bumper of the next car, he went whizzing along the road. Sud- denly the car went over a big bump. John was thrown off the car to the side of the road where he hit his head on a huge rock and lay there un- conscious. Jumbo, who had continued following John, ran up to him. He licked the bump on his head and dragged him to a grassy spot. Just then a car went by, and Jumbo, seeing that barking did no good, ran his fastest, getting ahead of the car. Then stepping out in the middle of the road, he made the car stop. A man got out, and to Jumbo ' s delight he saw it was Dr. Horte. Taking the man by the pants ' leg, he forced him to go to John. The doctor examined his head and lifted him into his car. Quickly driving to John ' s house, he rang the doorbell. John ' s mother answered the bell, and he was put to bed. The doctor said that death had been possible if he had come a minute later. You can imagine how John treated his dog when he was well again. Barbara Bush. Tommy Wililile Wolilile JpOMMY arrived at her new domain during September. Lulu Wibble Wobble accompanied her but died shortly after. Tommy was so named because she was thought to be a man duck. A little while later Tommy ' s owner moved, taking the duck with her. Tommy spent all her time in the back yard eating bugs and worms, enjoying herself immensely. One day Mrs. Morgan went out into the back yard. Seeing that Tommy was quite upset, she went over to the bush that Tommy had claimed as her own. Here she found eleven eggs in a nest of down. It was then that the owner realized that she had misnamed the duck, but it was too late to change the name for Tommy would not come when called by any other name. Since then she has laid about thirty eggs and is quite a pet. She has gotten into the habit of coming up on the back steps and knock- ing at the door by hitting it with her bill as if to say, May I come in? Janice Morg an.