Back in the reviewing stand, Elinor became spellbound, jumping to her feet as Lefty’s plane remained on the ground.
She ran across the field to Panama whose face, for the first time in his life, was a death white, dripping wet from cold perspiration.
Just ahead, in the direction in which Lefty’s plane was tearing, was a solid concrete wall, and certain death for the pilot if he was unable to take off in time.
Panama saw this impending catastrophe, yelled to a Marine sitting on a motorcycle and jumped into the side car, speeding away after the wild plane just as the clang-clang of an ambulance was heard.
Lefty saw the solid, gray concrete wall directly in front of him as a terrible look of horror overshadowed his face.
He knew what to do and he knew what every bit of mechanism in that cockpit was meant for but as hard as he tried, he could not bring his hands, frozen to the stick, into action.
Suddenly all went black before him as a terrible crash deafened his ears and he felt himself jolted forward.
The plane had collided into the wall with its tail flying in the air and its nose buried in the ground as vicious flames burst from the oil tank.
At this same moment, the motorcycle carrying Panama, and the ambulance close behind, drew up alongside of the burning plane with its unconscious pilot pinned in from under.
Panama jumped from the side car and rushed toward the ship now almost completely devoured by the flames.