A dizzy, nauseous sensation came over Flash as he gazed downward. If the ’chute failed to open—and the odds were against Brooks—would he have the courage to keep on taking his pictures? He wondered.
“Good luck, Brooks,” said Wells. “Happy landing.”
“I won’t need luck,” the man answered jerkily. “Not with a ’chute like this baby.”
He stepped to the edge of the cliff. For a long moment he stood there, gazing out across the sea, savoring the glint of sunlight upon the tumbling waves.
“Whatever happens,” he said, “keep grinding.”
Then with lips compressed, face tense, he stepped off into space.
CHAPTER II
OVER THE CLIFF
At terrific speed the body of the jumper hurtled toward the earth. The parachute did not open.
Grim-faced, his horrified eyes focused upon the falling figure, Flash shot his first picture. His heart was in his throat, but he was able to keep his hand steady. Swiftly he extracted the holder and made ready to take a second exposure.
“It’s curtains,” he thought. “The ’chute never can save Brooks now.”