“Now.” Barbara slid into her place. Her hands were at her sides, her chin high. When she heard “Number seven” she slid from sight.
In her eagerness to follow, Sally nearly went down without an order. As it was, she sank breathlessly down until, with startling suddenness, she felt a pull at her straps and knew her parachute had opened.
“Good old chute!” she murmured as she glanced up to catch its white gleam against the sky.
She looked for Barbara. Yes, there she was off to the left, floating down with the greatest of ease. This was Barbara’s big moment, perhaps the biggest moment of all her life.
“Good Old Chute!” Sally Murmured
But here was a voice coming up from below: “You’re coming down nicely, number seven,” it said. That would be Barbara.
“Number four, bend those knees. Don’t be trying to land stiff legged.” It was the voice again. An instructor was talking through a loudspeaker. His voice carried up to them perfectly.
“Number eight,” he called.
“Oh! He’s calling me!” Sally thought in sudden panic. “Number eight, you must turn round. Reach up, grab the strap.” Sally obeyed. She swung half about. “That’s it. Always land with the wind, not against it.