"We've—almost—made it!" he panted. "Here—grab my right arm and hang on for dear life!"
An involuntary shout of relief came from Dynamon's lips as he felt Keltry's strong fingers close over his arm.
"Hang on!" he shouted, and his left hand flew up to his helmet and carefully turned the counter-gravitation knob. At the same time, he twisted his back around and fought his feet downward. A moment later, he gripped Keltry's torso under the arms with his knees. Frantically, he tried to estimate how far above the bottom of the pit they were. They might be five thousand feet—or five hundred feet. Slowly he turned the dial on his helmet, resisting the almost insuperable impulse to twist the knob too fast. If he tried to stop their fall too quickly it would tear their bodies apart.
Slowly, ever slowly, the air-rush diminished. By now, they were well down into the area illuminated from the bottom of the pit. And they could see that they were falling through a round shaft perhaps one hundred feet in diameter. Dynamon judged that they were less than one hundred feet off the bottom.
"Look out, Keltry," he said. "I've got to put on the brakes hard."
He gritted his teeth, and flicked the knob on his helmet. He stifled a groan as invisible ropes attached to his feet and hands seemed to be trying to pull him apart. But gradually the terrific pressure released. He moved the knob a shade, and released the grip of his knees on Keltry.
"There!" he grunted as they both landed lightly on solid ground. "There wasn't two seconds to spare."
Keltry drew a shuddering sigh and put a hand on Dynamon's arm for support.
"Oh, Dynamon!" she whispered, "if I weren't such a well brought-up girl I would break down and cry from sheer relief."