Like one waking uncertainly from thick sleep, Col. Charles Augustus Lindbergh groped in the foggy Venezuelan morning. He twitched the Spirit of St. Louis upwards and sideways, seeking an opening in the mists and mountain peaks. He found a rift and streaked out over the Caribbean. For 100 miles seeing no land the flyer contemplated the two tinges of blue sky and bluer sea. Once he dipped to scoot cheerily close to the steamer Amsterdam. Once he scuttled through a sudden rain squall. Land notched the horizon far ahead. From there...
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