Presently Perk assured him he could manage to get fair glimpses at what lay below; at which Jack again started on an even keel, moving with as little speed as was compatible with safety.
It was not very long before the watcher gave tongue.
“Looks good to me down yonder, partner—guess now we might make a safe an’ sane landin’—’specially with you at the stick. Circulate a little bit to the south, brother, ’cause it looks some better thataways.”
This Jack did, and then at another signal from the observer, he proceeded to drop down with almost as much confidence as he might have felt when making a landing on Candler Field, well lighted, and with every convenience suited to safety and comfort.
His confidence, it seemed, had not been misplaced, for they effected a very fair contact, all things considered, even though the landing was somewhat “joggly and rough” as Perk expressed it.
Once the ship came to a stop and both of them hastened to clamber out of their close quarters—“cribbed, cabined and confined,” Jack sometimes liked to say in connection with their limited cockpit, although his pal always reminded him of the fact that cabin was something only conspicuous by its absence.
Perk’s first movement was to start threshing his arms against his thighs with more or less vigor, in which he showed good common sense since there is no better method for stirring up sluggish circulation after a long period of inaction. Jack on his part commenced to check up on certain sections of the undergear, meaning to make certain he had done no damage in making connection with the earth under such unfavorable conditions.
“Everything in ship-shape, I reckon, Perk,” he announced. “And now let’s make out to find something in the line of trees, where we might pick up enough wood for that fire.”
“Looks kinder like things’d be mighty well soaked after all that downpour,” affirmed the shrewd Yankee-Canadian; “so it’d be a tough job coaxin’ stuff to take fire. But wait a minute, partner—I didn’t get a chance to tell you that I spied what looked like an ol’ tumbledown shack over to windward—I guess now it might be abandoned, but just the same, partner, we’d be apt to run across some dry wood inside.”
“Suppose you step over and take a look-in, Perk,” suggested the other. “I’ll stand by the crate here, and keep our little glim working, so you’ll get your bearings when you start back.”