"Rebecca! Rebecca, come quick!"

When she heard this urgent call, Becky Pendleton threw down the novel she was reading, bounded out the door of her room and ran downstairs. Moments later she burst through the front door of the rambling two-story frame farmhouse she and her mother maintained, causing the screen door to bang loudly against the wall. "What is it, Mama?" she anxiously inquired, skipping over to the porch rail where her mother stood staring out across the road and field in front of their home. Becky, too, peered out across the yard, coolly green and freshly cut, gay multi-colored flowers neatly trimming it.

"Look over the hay field," spoke the greying older woman, pointing into the air with a freckled arm, while shading her eyes with her other hand. "See it? Yonder, over the pond now. See it? There!"

Rebecca leaned out over the porch rail, her sandals flopping back off her feet, the sweet odor of gardenias tickling her nose wistfully. She drew in a deep breath and concentrated in the direction her mother was pointing. At first the rich, deep blue of the sky and the bright white fluffy clouds seemed blinding in their brilliance to her own sea-blue eyes, unaccustomed as they were to the summer afternoon sunshine. A gentle breeze flowed past her lightly tanned cheek. Several moments passed—and then she saw it! There was a flash of sunlight glinting off metal and Becky saw silhouetted against the perfect sky the silent, graceful shape of the sailplane. She watched it swoop majestically, turning in the wind, its creamy white body accentuated by a single red stripe running from nose to tail. The plane was low, only a few hundred feet off the ground and perhaps two or three hundred yards from them. They could see the tinted bubble of the cockpit canopy and the form of the pilot inside. The ship wheeled and went for altitude.

"Well, if that don't beat all I ever saw," spoke up Mrs. Pendleton sharply. "That fellow is going to crack up for sure!! Look at that! Why, no plane ever goes that low, 'cept round an airport, and there ain't no airport closer than Emoryville. And he ain't got a motor neither; hear how quiet it is?" The cheerful calls of nearby birds was all that broke the stillness.

Becky smiled, her soft pink lips parting to show straight white teeth. "Oh mother," she corrected, "that's not a regular plane. That's a glider. I've seen pictures of them at school. They don't need a motor; the wind keeps them up. See, look how he's sailing. I'll bet he's having a grand time!" The pair continued watching this sailplane, which had gained some altitude and banked out over the field.

Suddenly Mrs. Pendleton uttered a "hmpf" of dismissal and turned, saying, "Well, you can spend your time out here if you want to. I got beans to shell!" She walked briskly back into the house, leaving Rebecca to muse happily about the harsh sounding but in truth mock contempt her mother held for "the crazy fellow in the flying contraption." Once there had been a time Mrs. Pendleton was as adventuresome as the next person, but now she had both feet firmly planted on solid ground and planned to keep them there. Becky, on the other hand, was not so old-fashioned. Oh, yes, she had her "antique notions" and her "country charm", but she had flown once—in a huge, sleek and silver jet—and the thrill of high places, thundering engines and dizzying speed had intoxicated her soul, leaving part of her still far away in the clouds. That part teased her now as she watched the glider, lower once more, making her wish and wonder what it would be like to be up there now. However, she would probably never know. So with a wistful sigh she brushed her wind-swept hair back over her shoulder and turned to go back into the house.

But in that instant, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the glint of sunlight off the plane's canopy as it banked and turned—straight toward their house! She watched, holding her breath, as the sailplane loomed lower and larger and closer. Moments later it flashed silently over the roof and disappeared behind the house. Becky dashed off the porch and ran around the house after it, fearing it was about to crash. But no, it was landing. Landing! Landing—here? The girl dashed out across the back yard, climbed the fence surrounding the pasture behind their house and started running toward the plane, which was rolling to a stop fifty yards ahead of her. It came to rest, one wing low, touching the grassy earth.

Pete Rogers banked his tiny white and red sailplane tightly, keeping one eye on the altimeter, which was already reading much too low, and the other scanning the rapidly approaching ground for both a source of rising air and a flat place to land. The field below him appeared to offer little in either category. With a sigh Pate resigned himself to a forced landing—and still another abortive attempt to secure enough flight time to win hls duration badge.

The day had begun in a most promising vein. A light breeze was blowing in from the southeast, a few puffy cumulus clouds belied the presence of "green air"—the thermal cells avidly sought by all soaring enthusiasts. He had been towed to 2500 feet, released and quickly gained almost another 3000 feet of altitude, after which he settled back for the long five and a half hour flight. For almost two hours things proceeded smoothly. Then the thermals began to grow scarce. Why? Pete could see little reason, as he skimmed through the summer sky—ever farther from the reassuring runways of the Emoryville airport. But Pete was determined to win his duration badge that afternoon!

Thus he had strayed ever more distant from home base until he now circled low over what appeared to be a grimly rocky pasture some fifteen miles from the airport. He knew he could always have his sailplane towed back—but right now he either had to gain altitude or find a postage stamp to hand on—fast! And the field below certainly was not the place. He wheeled again, noting briefly a nearby farmhouse, two women on its porch staring up at him. He smiled as he imagined what they must be saying about him. Then Pete noticed the pond. Maybe—just maybe—there would be some rising air over it. He glided over, felt a gentle bump as his plane entered a thermal and banked to climb.

But it was of little use. Barely 75 feet of altitude resulted. He would simply have to land. At this point Pete noticed a seemingly smoother, grassier field behind the neat, white farmhouse. That's it, he decided and kicked the left rudder pedal. Extending the "spoilers", gently at first, he raced toward the field, sweeping low over the roof of the house. The ground rose to meet him; he felt an earthy bump and he was down, "spoilers" full out to kill his momentum. He came to rest, one wingtip low on the ground. Three hours and seventeen minutes—well, Pete philosophized, there would be other days. Resolutely, he opened the canopy and stepped out, hoping there was a telephone nearby.

As Pete stepped out of his sailplane, Rebecca came running up beside it. Breathlessly, she asked, "Are you—are you okay? Did something—anything go wrong?" Her blue eyes were wide with excitement and concern. She noted, however, that beneath the rim of Pete's battered green baseball cap there was a pleasant, handsome face, perhaps the tiniest, bit angular and very definitely tanned. Sunglasses hid eyes she would later discover were a deep, sparkling brown. Sandy brown hair peeked from beneath the cap's edge. In spite of the comfortable,, rumpled clothes he was wearing, Pete Rogers immediately impressed Becky.

Pete was pleased with the young woman he saw, too. Tall and slender but not too thin, long dark blonde hair blowing in the breeze, colorful summer blouse and shorts—Becky's appearance evoked a cheerful grin from Pete the moment he saw her. "Well, a welcoming committee! No, everything is fine. I just ran out of altitude and had to come down. Really, things are A-okay. Didn't beak a thing. Oh, hope you didn't mind me skimming your roof too much, but it was the only way I could get over here." He looked a little sheepish.

"Oh no!" spoke Becky quickly, her anxiety dissolving. "As long as you didn't hurt yourself. You're sure you're alright? This cow pasture is sort of rough, I'm afraid." She kicked a clod.

"I'm fine, really. And this field is satin, too, compared to the one across the road. Besides, we glider pilots can't be too choosy about where we set down sometimes. People have been known to come running out with their shotguns, demanding we take off again, pronto! And what do you do when the only way to take off is to be towed? Fast talking is about it!" He chuckled. "I notice you are unarmed, thankfully."

"Goodness, I certainly wouldn't shoot you because you had to come down in my cow lot! After all, it's not every day we get visitors who arrive in such strange ways." She inclined her head to look at Pete and said, "My name is Becky Pendleton."

"Mine is Pete Rogers," the youthful pilot responded, taking off his cap, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and tossing the cap into the cockpit of his plane. "I'm glad the natives are friendly here. Say, do you all have a phone I could use to call my ground crew back in Emoryville? Or if not, where is the nearest one, lest I have to sleep beneath the wing tonight?"

"Don't worry about that; we have a phone and you're welcome to use it to call your friends. Will they come and tow you back up again? Or what?"

"No, no. Believe it or not, the wings on this bird are detachable and the whole thing folds up in a nice little trailer. They'll come for me in a truck. By the way, that reminds me; how's the best way to get my plane as near the road as possible?" Pete looked around. "Is that the gate over there?"

"Yes, our drive runs right up to it. That would be a perfect place to wait for your trailer." As Pete moved to close the cockpit canopy, Becky's curiosity got the better of her and she spoke up quickly, "May I look inside before you close it? I've never seen the inside of a glider before!" A tiny blush crossed her face as she heard her own enthusiasm burst out.

Pete grinned. "Sure. Help yourself." He was always proud to put his hard-earned sailplane on display.

As the couple peered into the snug little cockpit, barely big enough to hold Pete, the boy explained the use of the various instruments, the altimeter, airspeed indicator, turn-and-bank indicator and the all-important variometer which indicated when the trim plane was in rising air. He demonstrated the use of the control stick and rudder pedals, briefly and clearly explaining how turns and maneuvers were executed. As they stood up, Becky, who was thoroughly captivated by the whole idea of the sailplane, exclaimed, "But it's all so simple and uncluttered! How can you do all that flying with so few instruments?"

"Well, this is no DC-9, you know!" laughed Pete. "Actually, all that junk in a big plane goes into radio equipment, electrical gear and monitoring systems. And each one of those planes has two or three back-up systems, too. And radar, et cetera. It's a mess. Flying a sailplane is kind of the old "seat-of-your-pants" routine. In my opinion, it's real flying, the most exciting kind. It's like you and the plane are the same, like the wings were hooked on your shoulders. It's quiet, slow and easy." He shrugged his shoulders. "It's great; just fantastic! But I don't want to bore you to death I taking about it!" Pete was a little embarrassed at his own ardor.

"Oh but it's not boring: It sounds like fun!" Becky smiled warmly. "It really does!" She wished that she could soar high among the clouds, free and alive as Pete had described. Her life, though not exactly dull, was unfortunately routine. She enjoyed teaching but that obviously was not all there was in life! Yet, how could she ever get to soar? She didn't know.

Pete closed the plane's canopy and moved around to the tail. Picking it up easily, he began to pull the plane along on its nosewheel, heading for the pasture gate. Becky skipped to catch up with him and asked, "May I help?" Pete nodded and she took hold of the other elevator. Together they made swift progress. "I never dreamed it was so light," Becky remarked, when they had the plane safely out of the pasture and beside the Pendleton's gravel driveway.

"The lighter the better for sailplanes. The whole thing I hardly weighs 400 pounds—with me in it! Now. Where's that phone?" Becky led him inside, introduced him to her mother, who first viewed him skeptically until his grin began to penetrate her gruff exterior, and fixed him a coke while he made his telephone call. The pair then retired to the front porch to await the arrival of the ground crew, who had been given hasty directions on how to reach the Pendleton's farmhouse.

Pete learned of Becky's teaching job and induced her to relate several humorous stories about it. She in turn discovered that Pete was a recent graduate of pharmacy school and was working at the Gayley County Hospital dispensary. It turned out that they had a mutual acquaintance there, and by the time Pete's ground crew arrived, he and Becky were well on the way to becoming good friends.

Dismantled and stored in its trailer, the sailplane presented an appearance far more awkward than before, but Pete knew its true self as he made sure the last clasp was secure. Turning to Becky, he said, "Thanks for all your hospitality this afternoon. It made up for the poor flying." They smiled at each other. Then, on a whim, Pete said, "You know, we have some two-seaters over at the airport. Why don't you come over sometime and find out what's going on when I talk about soaring?"

Pete had struck exactly the right chord. Slightly taken aback, Becky answered, "Why—I'd like that very much, Pete. Is there any particular time that would be good? I don't want to get in the way or anything."

"Oh well, we glider pilots are sort of a casual bunch. Any time the sun is shining would be good; a day like today for instance. Why don't you come on over Sunday, if it's nice?" Pete noticed the happiness in Becky's smile.

"Sunday sounds fine!" And with that, the girl watched Pete and his ground crew drive away.

Sunday dawned another perfect summer day. Rebecca arrived at the Emoryville airport about 2 P.M. The crystal clear sky was highlighted with towering, billowing cumulus clouds, and she felt a tiny bit giddy at the prospect that she would soon be among them.

The airport was a small one, with two asphalt runways laid out in a narrow "X". Rebecca had not wandered about many minutes before she spotted the bright green cap worn by her new friend. Pete saw her at almost the same time and waved her over to where he was standing beside a blue and white Schweitzer sailplane, the club's two-seat trainer/demonstration plane.

"Hi there," he greeted her when she reached him. "It's a fantastic day for soaring! I don't know when I've seen so much 'green air.' This is our bird," he said waving toward the Schweitzer. "Are you ready to go?"

Becky swallowed once and said, "Yes!"

"Okay, then," Pete began as he moved to clear the seat belt and shoulder harness from the forward seat. "You'll ride up here, and I'll sit in the back. Go on and climb in." The boy helped his friend into her seat, somewhat of an awkward task due to the plane's characteristic one-wing low attitude. Then he showed her how to buckle the belt and harness, explaining the release catch which would quickly free all the straps with a single motion. "Of course," he continued, "I'll be doing all the actual flying, but you keep your feet lightly on the rudder pedals and a hand on the stick, so you'll have some idea of what I'm doing. Just don't fight me!" He laughed.

At that point, two other young men walked up, and Pete introduced them to Becky. One was Eddie Spiegel, who was to help attach the tow line and steady the wing just before take-off. The other was Don Burgess, who was the pilot of the tow plane. They joked playfully with Pete and Becky about the former's flying ability and the latter's newness to the sport. However, both of them were friendly and efficient. Becky felt as safe as she could.

Then, all at once, Pete had finished his inspection of the plane and had climbed into his seat behind Becky. The cockpit, though larger than the one in Pate's single-seater, was crowded; Pete's feet on the rudder pedals were up beside Becky's seat. He tested all the controls, raising and lowering the wing flaps, the elevators and swinging the rudder. Then the tow line was attached, release mechanism tested, Eddie giving the line a hard jerk, and re-attached. By this time, Don had taxied the tow plane into position ahead of them. Eddie bid the pair happy soaring and closed the canopy.

"Now," said Pete to Becky, whose heart had begun to beat faster in excited anticipation of their take-off, "I'll be reading all the instruments over your shoulder. Every once in awhile give the altimeter a little tap, because it tends to stick since there's so little vibration. It's reading 350 feet now since we keep it corrected to sea level and the airport is 350 feet above that mark. We'll be towed to 2000 feet, where I'll release us by pulling my cable release knob, similar to the red one in front of you. Any questions? Okay, then—take up slack!" This last remark was directed to Eddie outside, who raised the wingtip from the ground. This was a signal to Don to take up slack in the tow line. Becky noted how thin the tow cable appeared.

A moment after all the slack was out, Pete wagged the rudder, the signal to Don to take off. Then they were moving over the rough ground, faster and faster, leaving Eddie behind, who had been steadying the wing during the initial moments of take-off. Their speed mounted rapidly, and suddenly—the roughness disappeared. Although the tow plane had not yet gained enough speed to leave the ground, the lighter sailplane was already air-borne, skimming along three feet from the dry, cracked earth!

Then they cleared the trees at the edge of the airport and began their lazy, spiraling climb to 2000 feet. Becky watched with delight as the trees and buildings diminished in size and the horizon dropped away, revealing the rolling, grassy countryside to her sparkling eyes. The vast creamy clouds came down to meet them, as they gained altitude and upon reaching the 2000 foot mark (Pete having to remind Becky to thump the altimeter, she was so enthralled by the scenery), Don towed them directly under a huge, swirling cumulus.

Feeling the strong surge of "green air", Pete released the cable with the sharp, fire-cracker bang he had warned Becky to expect. He banked steeply to the right to circle in the column of rising air—and for the first time in her life, Becky was truly as free as a bird!

They stayed in the thermal until it had carried them up nearly 2800 feet more, high into the depression in the base of the cloud. Not until they were in the cloud itself and the ground could be seen only dimly through a layer of misty haze did Pete leave the thermal and begin to soar. They burst through the cloud's edge into dazzling sunlight. "That was a great thermal, Becky. We could have gone right on up maybe five or six thousand more feet, but flying blind in a cloud isn't that much fun—unless it's a thunderhead! What's our altitude?"

"Forty-six hundred and twenty feet," Rebecca answered.

"Okay, let's head for that stand of trees over there on the left and see if we can't go up again." The girl felt the controls move appropriately.

And so they flew, sailing majestically from cloud to cloud, finding an abundance of thermal currents to keep them aloft. To be right up there among the clouds, to be almost all alone with the sun and sky, to hear the gentle, whistling rush of the wind was most thrilling to Rebecca. This was a freedom and joy beyond the common, ordinary pleasures of life. This was happiness and satisfaction, excitement and a sort of fulfillment, too, which Becky felt but did not quite understand. But, she thought, this is how a person should feel, if there were fewer cares and sorrows in the world. She wished everyone could ride the wind as she was doing, and be as happy and smiling as she.

The flight lasted almost two hours. There was another moment of excitement as Pete was landing the plane. Some other pilot in a small powered plane cut in front of them to land. This caused Pete to veer somewhat from his pattern. "Spoilers" part-way up, he "crabbed", letting the plane slip sideways to use up altitude and momentum. Then the ground rushed up to meet them, there was a bump, and they rolled across the cracked earth to come to rest just a few feet from where they had started.

When Pete had helped Becky from the plane, all she could say was, "Oh Pete! Thank you! It was simply wonderful! It was!" Her enthusiastic smile beamed out to him.

"I'm glad you liked it, Becky. Man, am I thirsty! Let's go get a coke." The couple walked toward the small terminal building. But as they walked, Pete noticed that Becky was still very much up there with the clouds. And he was glad.