“She’s filled to the brim!” the ground man announced, awakening Williams from his brief moment of tranquillity, then yelling as he wound up the motor: “Contact!”
Not daring to look at the girl, Panama gave the ship the gun and in another moment, was taxiing down the broad field, once more embarked upon his futile search for a man who, if he did find him, would be delivered right into the arms of the woman they both loved more than life.
CHAPTER XIX
When Steve awoke from his coma, it was late afternoon. He had been lying there, silent and unconscious, for more than twelve hours.
He looked about for Lefty but the boy was nowhere in sight. An army of vicious ants were crawling over his hands and legs, leaving large, ugly and painful red welts in their wake.
The boy’s face became a contorted mass of fear and suffering as he raised himself to his elbow and shouted the name of his companion.
At the sound of Steve’s voice, Lefty, who had been picking wild berries from near-by bushes, came running back to the wrecked plane and bent over beside the boy, brushing away the ants and wiping the perspiration from his brow.
“Help me, help me, Lefty!” Steve cried out dismally, “I can’t stand it—I can’t!”
The mechanic pulled the limp boy to the other side of the wing, placing his own windjammer under Steve’s head as a pillow, leaving himself exposed now to the swarm of crawling ants that were already upon the sleeve of his shirt.
Steve’s eyes seemed to see something in the sky above and with every bit of remaining strength left in his body, pulled at the other man’s arm and shouted: “Lefty, look! There’s the planes—they’ve found us!”