Impatiently Sally waited. At last she said, “Now! Here I go!”
Over the side she went. She pulled the ripcord. The parachute opened, then she went drifting down. Her aim had been good. She hit the water not a hundred yards from Danny’s raft.
After releasing herself from her parachute she went into the Australian crawl and soon was there at the raft’s side.
Danny would have welcomed anyone after his long days on the sea, but to have Sally drop from the sky seemed too good to be true. Danny’s pet sea parrot, however, was not so friendly. He had become very fond of Danny, particularly fond of his dried fish. He didn’t propose to have anyone come between him and Danny, so, with his vice-like beak, he had taken a firm grip on one of Sally’s pink toes.
By the time Danny had settled the quarrel between Sally and his pet, the boat was at their side.
“Danny, are you all right?” his mother cried from the boat.
“Oh, sure! Fit as a fiddle, and I have lots more brain cells. I’ve been living on fish.” He laughed gaily.
When the raft, the pet sea parrot, all Danny’s dried fish and, of course, Danny and Sally, had been taken aboard, the boat headed for the carrier.
“Danny,” Sally asked, “how did you ever ride out that storm?”
