Weber looked back with a silent question.
“Bearing’s busted. We’ve got to land!” Jimmy yelled. “Brace yourself and get ready for a crash.”
The old man looked off toward Keno and then nodded his understanding. They would land fifteen or twenty miles short of their destination. It looked as though he had just missed the rich strike once more. Jimmy spiraled down over a narrow valley. Trees crowded down to the bank of a little creek. There was no clear spot in which to make a landing. Jimmy headed the Calico Peacock into what appeared to be a patch of young aspens and then braced himself as the crash came.
He expected the ship to nose over as the wing fabric was ripped off and it settled down into the trees. He was not prepared, however, for the demolishing crash which followed as the plane settled. A ledge of rocks had been concealed by the trees. The Calico Peacock nosed head on into the rocks and crumbled into a tangled mass of wreckage.
When Jimmy regained consciousness, he found himself several yards away from the wreck. Rough splints and a bandage were around his right forearm. One of his eyes was swollen shut and a bandage was wrapped around his head. His left leg throbbed with pain. He was lying on a blanket and another blanket was spread over him. A few yards away Weber was bending over a fire. The old man’s clothing was torn, but he moved about as though he was not seriously injured.
Jimmy moved and Weber came over to him immediately.
“How do you feel?” he asked solicitously.
“Like the devil,” Jimmy groaned. “That was some smash.”