"Shut up and tend to your flying!" the English youth growled. "You dropped our nose two feet while you were talking. Want to power dive us in, or something? You—hold it, Dave! Bear right a bit. What's that down there? It looks like—oh, blast it! They would, wouldn't they!"
The last was caused by the two flares finally touching ground and being snuffed out. Quick as a flash Freddy Farmer shot out his hand and released two more flares. The instant his eyes were again accustomed to the bright light, Dave looked in the direction of the English youth's pointed finger. His heart did loop with joy this time, and he gulped with relief. What at first looked like the rock studded side of a foothill was actually a strip of barren and seemingly level ground between two foothills. It wasn't very big, but it seemed big enough—unless Lady Luck deliberately turned her face the other way.
"Yeah, check, Freddy!" Dave murmured, and eased the laboring Lockheed around and down. "That's us, that spot. Just hang on, everybody. It won't be long now!"
"I don't like the way you say that!" Colonel Welsh said with a mirthless laugh. "But I guess you don't mean it. Go ahead, though. I was wrong again. We'll keep the parachutes in their packs. What a fine night this has turned out to be!"
"Me, I'm thinking of tomorrow and next week," Dave muttered grimly as he eased the Lockheed lower and lower, and around toward the near end of the narrow landing space. "This is wild country here. It's plenty wild. Right in the middle of nowhere. And this baby isn't going to do any more flying until she has a couple of new engines stuck in her. Oh well—"
Dave let the rest go with a shrug and hunched forward slightly over the controls. The time for talking had passed. Now was the time for action, and prayer. The Lockheed was down low now, too low to correct any mistakes. The first swipe at that narrow landing space had to be good. It had to be perfect. The jagged rocks and trees on all four sides would make a second try impossible.
Dave's whole body felt dry as a chip, yet at the same time sweat poured off his forehead, and the palms of his hands were clammy and cold. He could almost feel Freddy Farmer and Colonel Welsh hold their breath. As far as that went, he could almost feel the whole world stand still and hold its breath. The dropped flares were throwing off less and less light, but he refrained from telling Freddy to drop a couple of new ones. Their first moment of brilliance might blind him just enough to misjudge things by a hair. And misjudging by a hair would be more than enough to pile them up in a heap among the trees and jagged rocks.
"Now!" he whispered softly. "Now, baby! Easy does it, now. Down you go. Down you go. Ah-h-h...! That's the stuff!"
The Lockheed's wheels touched, touched hard, and the plane tried to push itself off and up into the air again. But Dave had killed the forward speed as much as he could. And after a short run forward, and gentle but firm application of the wheel brakes by Dawson, the twin-engined craft finally bumped to a halt not ten feet from the lip of a sharp drop-off in the ground.
"Now I've seen everything!" Colonel Welsh fairly exploded the words. "I've seen two miracles come to pass in the same night. It couldn't be done, but you did it, Dawson. Congratulations from the bottom of my heart. Good work! We really are on the ground, aren't we?"