The wind shrieked through the rigging with a terrifying scream and threatened to tear away the side of Ted’s face. He straightened out the plane, reversed his controls, and then began falling in the opposite direction. Back and forth they darted; the ground was rushing up to meet them at a furious speed. It was fascinating, this sight of the ground rushing upward, and as he looked at it he suddenly realized that they were almost directly above an open field—the landing-field, it must have been, for there were the white hangars in which the ships were kept; and the machines that had been out in the open were scurrying in all directions. Vaguely he wondered how long it would be before they should crash in their midst.
After what seemed like ages, but which was in reality a matter of seconds, the ground loomed up close to them. The moment for the supreme test had come. Throwing the controls into neutral he brought the ship into an even glide. The hot blast struck his face and the fumes of burning oil made him cough and choke. But not for an instant did he relax to lower his head for a breath of air; he must see the thing through if it was the last thing he ever did.
Her speed gone, the ship settled rapidly; it was but ten feet from the ground. Ted pulled back the wheel cautiously to keep her nose up, as he had been told so often by Stanley, and the plane responded ever so feebly. The ship struck with a jolt, bounded, settled again, rolled forward a short distance, and came to a stop.
Ted snatched at the buckle of his belt, tore off his goggles, and jumped to the ground. His head was reeling and his throat was parched. The flames now extended in back of the hood and were reaching for the fuel-tank. It was only a question of seconds before the explosion that would deluge them with a shower of burning gasolene.
There was not time to try to rescue Stanley by pulling him over the rim of the cockpit, and, besides, Ted had not the strength left for such an undertaking. So he clambered up on one wing and kicked in the linen side of the fuselage, after which he dragged the unconscious form of his companion through the hole. Then he tottered away with the limp body in his arms, how far he never knew.
A chorus of excited voices reached his ears in a confused murmur and helping hands relieved him of his burden. His head burned and a thousand needles seemed to stab through his chest. He clutched the air wildly and, gasping for breath, plunged headlong into darkness.
CHAPTER III
THE RETURN TO THE LAND OF THE INCAS
The exploits of Stanley and Ted in the great World War form no part of this story. It is enough to say that they saw extensive service on the Western Front and that they acquitted themselves in an entirely creditable manner.
The armistice was signed at last and the two, in common with thousands of others, were returned to their own country. They had attained the rank of first lieutenant. Now, their services being no longer urgently required, they tendered their resignations and received honorable discharges.
“I am beginning to feel as if I have had enough of a rest,” Ted said one night a few weeks afterward when Stanley dropped in at his home for one of his visits. They saw one another almost daily. “What do you say to making another attempt to get the treasure?”