“Don’t, Terry. It’s a terrible chance to take!” pleaded Prim.
“Nonsense! I’ve made lots of parachute jumps!” Terry snapped impatiently. “Don’t waste time! We have less than ten minutes to get there. Peter Langley can’t close a deal with Joe Arnold until twelve o’clock. Our contract holds until then.”
Prim’s face was white as she climbed into the pilot’s seat, protesting nervously. “Don’t jump, Terry! Don't take such a big chance!”
But Terry was studying the ground below her and she answered, “I’ll jump when we are directly over the mine. You take the plane down to Jenkins' store and wait for me there. I’ll be down after a while. Bye!”
Then at sight of Prim’s tragic face, she laughed and began crawling out on the wing. Terry watched the ground beneath her, then with a catch in her breath, stepped out into space.
No matter how many times Terry jumped, she never could get used to that long drop. Her mind was clear, every sense alert to what she had to do.
In a few seconds she pulled the rip cord but there was no response from the parachute.
Had something gone wrong? Terry was falling with terrific speed toward those jagged rocks. “This is the end,” she thought. But suddenly she came up with a tremendous jerk as the parachute opened above her head and she began sailing gently downward. Working with the shrouds, the girl steered the parachute toward a safe landing.
At the sight of a figure hurtling through the air, Mary Langley had screamed, “Oh Peter, Peter! A man has fallen from the plane! Help! Help!”
Horror-struck, Peter Langley watched the falling figure, then gave a lusty cheer as the white parachute opened, the little figure in the sky was righted and came sailing down gracefully.