Jane remained in the forward cockpit while the pilot sought a break in the storm which would enable him to get his bearings and land. For fifteen minutes they cruised in great circles.
“The storm’s breaking away,” cried Jane.
Slim nodded hopefully. It did seem as though the snow was thinning. For another fifteen minutes the motors droned steadily and at the end of that time, the snow lessened to a fine cloud. Objects on the ground came into view. “There’s a village!” cried Jane, pointing to the right.
Slim Bollei swung the tri-motor in a gentle circle, for he lacked the power for steep climbs and banks. As the plane roared over the snowbound town, men appeared, waving their arms frantically.
“I guess that’s the place,” grinned Slim. “It’s the only town within thirty miles. Now we’ve got to find a place where we can do a little skiing.”
Beyond the village he found a field nearly half a mile long. It was sheltered in a valley with what wind still remained sweeping the length of the field.
“Get back in the cabin and hang on,” shouted the pilot. “I’m going to cut the motors and see what kind of a snowbird this is.”
“We’re starting down,” Jane told Miss Comstock when she returned to the cabin.
The plane tilted forward and the motors eased down to a whisper. The snow-covered ground leaped toward them, then seemed to pause in its mad rush as the biplane leveled out there was a sharp bump, the sound of tearing wood and fabric, and a series of jolting shocks before the tri-motor came to rest with its nose in a deep drift.
Slim Bollei staggered back into the cabin, a deep gash over his right eye.