Things happen swiftly in the air. The ship had already fallen a thousand feet while her pilot rode her down in his dazed condition. But even now it was still some three thousand feet up—more than half a mile above earth. As Hal leaped out, he looked back over his shoulder to see in what direction the stripped fuselage was heading.
A moment more and he was hurtling down through space! Now the wreckage of the ship was even with him, now it had passed him, its greater weight carrying it fast and faster.
Hal’s fumbling fingers tugged at his rip cord. He was falling head on—ages swept past—would she never open? Then the parachute blossomed into a great blessed silken flower above him. The silk went taut, yanked him back into an upright position. Beneath the inverted chalice he floated. The earth had ceased to rush up to meet him. It stayed where it belonged—no, it was floating gently up to meet him now. He was going out of his head again, losing his grip on himself. Quick, before blackness went over him again, he must choose a place to land!
He looked down, heard a crash as the ship hit the ground. An airpath seemed sucking him down, hurtling him on to land in the very midst of the wreckage. Bad landing—flames might burst out in that twisted mass below him!
Before his brain went blank again, he must side slip, veer his parachute in a different direction. With instinctive, mechanical motion, his fingers reached up, caught a cluster of shrouds in his hand and drew them down little by little, spilling air from the ’chute. His speed increased as the drop veered off at a sharp gliding angle.
All over. That must be ground below.
But instead of solid contact, there came a splash.
One moment Hal Dane’s feet struck water, the next moment he went down, engulfed!
CHAPTER XV
TWO ROADS TO FAME
Next thing Hal knew, he felt land grating against him. A strong hand had him by the collar dragging him out of the water, many voices beat into his ears.