CHAPTER XXIII
FIGHTING DEATH
Even the exertion of leaning forward, slight as it was, proved dangerous in the abnormal condition the high air produced in the human system. In that instant of stooping forward, Hal Dane lost consciousness and fell with his plane, like a plummet, through the thin air.
The rarefied state of stratosphere was as dangerously violent against the human-made air machine as it was to the human body. Despite oil emulsions on the wings, up here in this terrible cold, ice formed with deadly quickness on every part of the machine. In an instant, the plane was covered all over in a frozen layer an inch thick. Ice formed continually on the propeller, and was as quickly thrown off in terrible vibrations that near tore the motor mechanisms asunder.
And young Dane, a modern Viking who had dared ride the uncharted skyways, hung limp across his belt strap. The insidious treachery of the upper air had taken him unawares and hurled him into unconsciousness in the midst of his triumph of speed.
The life-giving oxygen was there in its tube, at his very lips, but here in this dangerous light-air pressure, Hal had not been able to assimilate all the oxygen that he needed. The human lungs, built to take in the amount of air needed at ground levels, had balked at having to take in five times the usual volume as was necessary in the heights of the stratosphere. And all in an instant, the exhaustion of air-starvation had claimed the flyer as its victim.
Down and down shot the plane, wallowing in the air troughs like some dismasted ship in a sea wreck.
And now, choking, hanging limp and unconscious though he was, Hal Dane began to faintly breathe in the blessed heavier air of the lower altitudes he was hurtling into.
Back from the heights he slid, back into normal air pressures. He shot ten thousand feet while the struggle for breath and for consciousness held him. Longer and deeper breaths he drew at the tube, and the oxygen gradually began to restore his strength.
As control of self came to him, he straightened back into position and fought to bring his mad ship to an even keel.
Below him lashed the hungry, growling wastes of the Pacific. As he plunged wildly downward it seemed that the ocean depths would swallow up the twisting, turning plane before it could gain its equilibrium.