Distinctly Montana Magazine

Fall 2011

Distinctly Montana Magazine

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The guide fire continued to burn, the embers blasted by the wind. Crom- well tensed for the impact. Set her down, he told himself. Set her down now! The machine dropped, leveled, then dropped again. The ground raced up toward him. Three…two…. He held his breath. Three…Two… One…. He felt the bump of the wheels on the ground. They rumbled over the meadow, the machine jarring him in his seat. When he rolled to a stop, he grinned, pulled the pocket watch from his jacket, and checked the time. It was 2:34 p.m. There it is, he sighed, numbed and overjoyed. You're the first pilot to fly an aeroplane over the crest of the Rocky Mountains. Cromwell leaned back into his seat. He released a deep breath and shivered under his leather coat. It was cold, and getting colder. His lips were tinged a chilly blue. Even so, a slow grin spread across his face when the throng of people raced over to greet him. "Tell the folks in Helena I arrived!" Cromwell shouted, jumping down from the machine. "Tell them I'll start back in a few minutes. Tell them I'll see them before 4 o'clock." Cromwell shook hands with those around him, beaming under the clap of their hearty congratulations. "That reminds me," he said, pulling the gover- nor's letter from his pocket. "This belongs to you." One of the men opened the letter. The man grinned as he read the governor's name. At 3:16 p.m., the "man-built bird" left the meadow and faded from view. The aeroplane vanished as quickly as it had arrived, fluttering away on wings of wood and sailing toward the valley below. A jaunty little machine dreamed up by men, a marvelous sight to behold. "The car with the [mechanicians], helpers, and press representatives left immediately after but were, of course, beaten to Helena by the aeroplane," wrote a reporter with The Helena Independent. "Minutes seemed hours to the big crowd in the grandstands while they continued to watch for the aviator, and when he was finally sighted, a mighty cheer went up. Gradually the little speck, which had come over the mountain, assumed larger proportions and soon the outline of the machine was plainly discernable." As news of the pilot's approach spread in the stands, thousands of independent conversations con- verged into a rambling murmur. Cromwell's machine grew larger in the sky. He sat bravely behind the wheel, stiff as a statue. Gasoline www.distinctlymontana.com 75

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