“Anyway,” he sighed, “I’ll be through with that money. They’ll never suspect this trick of ours. And they’ll never find it. This is once in my life when I do the Robin Hood.”
Hardly had he thought this through than Curlie turned his head about to nod. He held up three fingers.
“Three fingers. Three minutes!” Johnny’s mind went into a whirl. Three minutes of sunshine and fleecy clouds. Three minutes of glorious freedom and life. And after that?
He rose stiffly to his place. As he put out a hand to steady himself it seemed that he was stiff as a wooden soldier.
“What nonsense!” He got a grip on himself. “Gotta go through! Lots of fellows have.”
At this he felt better. He moved carefully a little way out on the wing, looked to the straps about his body, allowed his eyes to circle the sky; then, putting his hands together, he made a perfect dive.
At once he was shocked because there was no shock. He was going down. But what a glorious sensation! Like real flying, a bird’s way.
“One. Two. Three. Four. Five!”
He pulled the cord. More gliding downward. A slight shock that told him the parachute was open; then the earth came up to meet him.
At first a blurred impression, it resolved itself into fields and pastures, an orchard, a farmhouse, and last of all, a small girl dressed in red.