Hal Dane looked down. It had been a fearfully close thing. Below him was no island at all, merely a surging waste of waters where he had just been. The last of the land rim had crumbled.
Now that he was above it all, his heart beat to the zooming roar of his rotors.
Speed! Speed! He must wing it back before life force ebbed entirely from those limp bodies behind him. Already his tapping fingers had flung the message of his find into the ether.
CHAPTER XX
PRISONED WINGS
In the days that followed, Hal Dane plugged steadily on with his share of the rescue program, until at last the crest of the flood had passed and the waters began to recede.
After a late supper each night, he paid his regular visit to the field hospital to see how the Wiljohns, mother and child, were getting on.
Tonight, as he tapped on the board and canvas door, the nurse stepped out.
“Yes, the change for the better has come,” she said, “for a while we thought it was a matter of hours before life would go. Both had marvelous reserve strength though, and they’ve rallied surprisingly—are out of danger now. But,” and the nurse smiled, “it’ll be a good while before they’ll be ready for another such speed trip as you gave them. That was a wonderful rescue you made, Mr. Dane.”
Hal squirmed uncomfortably. “Just came in the day’s work. Anybody’d have done it—”
“Nonsense!” A heavy voice boomed in. “Nonsense, Hal Dane! I’ll tell you for the tenth time you’re the only man alive that could have handled that gyroscope, and done such a feat. Finest thing I ever heard of—finest, absolutely—” Colonel Wiljohn’s boom choked suspiciously and he blew his nose vigorously.