“Catch hold of the frame—here—anywhere!” called an eager voice—eager though it strove to be calm.
I raised myself and made a frantic effort to obey, but failed and sank again. When I came to the surface a moment later the biplane was circling over the bay. Again it came toward me, and this time it dipped until it nearly touched the water. I grabbed the frame as it passed by and clung to it desperately, for it nearly jerked my arms from their sockets.
Arrows were whizzing about me in a cloud; the natives were shouting angrily and a thousand boats were rushing toward us; but the next instant I was high in the air, dangling from the frail crossbar of the lower plane, and my safety was only a question of whether I could hang on or not.
A face bent over me from the seat and stared into mine—a girl’s face.
“Lucia!” I cried in wonder.
“Save your breath and hold on!” she returned. “Can you manage it, Sam?”
“I’ll try—for awhile.”
“Till we get to the ship?”
“I—I’m afraid not.”
Indeed, this rush through the air was fast driving the life out of me. My arms and hands were so numb there was no feeling in them at all. Lucia had straightened up to attend to the machine, and the next thing I knew I bumped the earth, lost my hold, and went rolling over and over.