“The kid’s got the stuff, all right,” said Bill. “I knew he had. Who said he didn’t have nerve?”
“He’s better for it, too,” said Pat. “It’s done him good, all right.” They watched the plane climbing into the cloudless skies. Then suddenly the sound of the motor ceased. “Good grief,” cried Pat. The others were too horrified even to cry out. They saw the plane stall, then fall nose down, spiraling as it went.
When he heard the motor conk, Hal’s heart stood still. He tried the stick frantically. The rudder, the ailerons, would not respond. The throttle brought no answering roar of power. The Marianne had become suddenly a mad thing, an enemy, bent on his destruction. She side-slipped, her nose dipped down, an she went into a tailspin.
Hal was frantic. His first impulse was to pull up on the stick, in order to bring up the tail. Then some glint of reason came through his terror, and he remembered Pat’s warning that this was the last thing he should do to pull himself up. But what had Pat said? He couldn’t remember. Then suddenly it came to him. Push forward on your stick! With an effort he made himself push forward. The Marianne gave a convulsive shudder. But the action had taken her out of her spin. With a feeling of unutterable relief Hal felt her come out of her spin and go into a glide. He looked over the side of the plane. He was rushing toward a brick building, at the furthest end of the airport! There was nothing to do now but crash. He was too close to stretch out the glide!
With a last desperate movement, Hal opened the throttle of his engine. The motor caught! With a thrill of joy he heard the roar of the motor as it started again, and felt the stick respond to his touch. He pulled back the stick, the nose of the plane lifted, and he zoomed into the air.
Down on the ground Pat, Bill and Bob had gone through the tortures of the damned, watching Hal fall to what seemed certain death, while they stood helplessly below. When they saw him zoom once more into the air, their hearts bounded with him.
“The gas-line must have been clogged!” shouted Pat. “It cleared itself out when they dived!”
“Thank God,” said Bill.
Bob could say nothing, but kept shouting Hal, Hal, Hal, over and over again. Hal was gliding in, now, to land.
He got out of the cockpit, white and shaking. The others, beside themselves with joy, surrounded him, shaking his hand, hugging him, patting his shoulder. But Hal did not seem to notice what was happening.