Maybe they won't do anything to you on account of your father's name and the reputation of the bank. "

He got up slowly and walked into the control room. The machine was what I think is called a pusher type; the motor and propeller were at the stem. The controls, however, were all forward. He started the engine, and right off we began to make headway; but instead of coming down I saw that we were making altitude, and he wasn't turning her back toward the landing field.

"Where you going?" I demanded.

"For a little ride."

"Bring her down, Billy; it'll be better for you in the end. "

"And go to the pen? Not on your life."

Glenora is about twenty miles from the coast, which swings in a southeasterly direction from Point Conception so that the southwesterly direction he was heading was the shortest route to the ocean. We were headed out across the San Fernando Valley toward the Santa Monica Mountains; after we crossed those we'd be out over the ocean. I realized that if I were going to do anything I'd have to do it in a hurry. I couldn't tell by looking down what speed we were making, but I guessed that perhaps forty miles an hour would hit pretty close to it; that didn't leave me much time. Pretty soon however I realized that it was just as good as a week, for there wasn't anything that I could do. Perry sure had me to rights; I was being taken for a ride, and no joke. I never felt so helpless in my life as I did then. I could have slipped the bracelets on Perry easy enough; but that wouldn't have helped me out any, for I couldn't navigate the ship. All I could do was sit tight and hope that he'd bring her down sometime somewhere.

We crossed the mountains and hit Santa Monica just below the old soldiers' home at Sawtelle, and there, ahead of us, stretched the Pacific. It was a fine, clear day; I could see Santa Catalina and far San Clemente lying like emerald jewels in a setting of turquoise. I recall even now that the beauty of the scene impressed me even through the pall of my anxiety.

Just as we were crossing the far-stretching strip of sandy beach bordered by the restless, wavering line of white surf I saw a land plane overhauling us; it was a Los Angeles police ship. It circled us and then came up close again on our port side. I saw the pilot and another officer in the cockpit and waved to them. One of them pointed down emphatically. I knew he was signaling us to land. All I could do was raise my palms in a gesture of helplessness.

Pretty soon two more planes joined the pursuit; these were civilian planes come up to see the fun. They couldn't do anything; neither could the police plane. Of course Perry had seen them, and he was chuckling to himself. It was evident that the Glenora police had telephoned Los Angeles for help, and those boys did their best to help us. The civilian planes followed us about halfway to Catalina and then turned back; of course, like the police ship, they were land planes.

After we had passed Catalina several miles to the northwest of it, I thought the other plane would turn back; but they kept right on. I imagine they figured that Perry was planning on landing on one of the other islands after he'd shaken them off, perhaps San Clemente or one of those off Santa Barbara like Santa Cruz; but after they'd got out fifty miles, and Perry wasn't heading for any island on that side of the Pacific, they turned back. It sure seemed lonesome way up there after they had left.

Perry hadn't said a word all this time; now he turned to me with a grin. "Not many bank robbers get a police escort while they're making their getaway. "

"Isn't it about time to turn back?" I suggested.

"I'm not going to turn back."

"Where in hell do you think you're going, then?"

"Quite a way."

"To Honolulu?"

"And then some."

"This thing wouldn't get halfway even to Honolulu; you'll end up by falling into the sea and drowning both of us."

"Not much loss-a bank robber and a lousy cop; but we won't fall into the sea. I knew what I was doing when I built this flying Lizzie.