When he had collected his scattered senses after the tremendous lift which the plane had been subjected to, Johnny Thompson knew that they must have been in the midst of a terrific electrical explosion which had occurred in mid-air; a current of electricity such as no mere man-made voltmeter would ever measure had leaped from cloud to cloud. For a fraction of a second the circuit had been broken. The explosion had followed.
Pressing his lips to Pant’s tube, Johnny inquired curiously:
“Any—damage?”
“Can’t—tell—yet,” came back. “Hope—not.”
For a moment there was no sound, save the screaming of the wind. Then, again, came the call of the stranger.
“Hello!” exclaimed Johnny.
“About—the—wreck. Ought—to—tell. May—not—come—out—of—this. You—may—come—out. Can—you—hear?”
“Yes,—yes!” Johnny was impatient of delay.
“Ought—to—tell. Mighty—important. Wreck—mighty—important. Lot—of—people—affected. Children—most. Ought—to—tell.”
“Well, why doesn’t he tell?” was Johnny’s mental comment. “Has the storm driven him mad?”