But Buck seemed deaf to appeal or command. He had thoughts only for the figure beyond him swinging helplessly back and forth, caught on the long, pendulumlike crane. With each movement of the airship the twenty foot metal arm swung forward and backward as if to shake Ned from his hazardous hold. And with each swing of the fragile crane, the spidery ladder and Buck moved back and forth like a shadow. Cold with fear, Alan and Bob were helpless. To follow Buck on the ladder was impossible.
“Make a landing,” cried Bob hoarsely. All had happened so quickly that no one had even thought of this. “Hold on,” he yelled through the door, “we’re goin’ down.”
Alan was already at the tube.
“Put her down,” he screamed, “or they’ll both be killed. Quick! Put her down—in the water!”
He sprang to the pilot house ladder and then stumbled back and threw himself on the floor at the door. The panic that had seized him and Bob was lessening. His muscles still numb with sickening fear, his mind had begun to work.
“Another line,” he panted to Bob, “the starboard buoy, Stewart,” he added quickly, “don’t throw till we make you fast. Wait!”
But the reporter gave him no heed. Buck, who had not yet cast his life line, hung poised like a cat.
“Keep your nerve, Ned,” called out Alan hoarsely, “we’re goin’ down. We’ll get you in a minute. Hold on!”
The boy hanging between life and death, made no response. Alan, his head through the trap, saw that Ned had no thought but for Buck and the coiled rope. He seemed not to hear the words meant for him. Then Alan saw for the first time that his chum’s lips were set. His face was distorted as if by pain.
“Hurry!” shouted Alan again as Bob threw an end of the starboard buoy line from the gallery. Even Roy in the pilot room above, despite the vibration of the planes and the noise of the engines, heard the cry. It was needless so far as he was concerned. From its height of nearly two thousand feet the Flyer was already on the first downward sweep of a huge spiral.