When they reached the door, which had been torn from its hinges by the impact, Miss Comstock cautioned them again.
“It’s about six feet to the ground. Slide over the edge and hang by your hands until your feet are on the ground. Then each girl wait until the next is down and we’ll form a chain of hands so that no one is lost. Count as you come and we’ll know when everyone is out.”
Jane was the first one out and she cried, “No. 1 out,” in a loud voice. Girl after girl called out their number as they scrambled down out of the wreckage until every one was outside.
Still holding hands, Miss Comstock led them away from the plane as Jane wondered about the pilots. The wreckage was at least fifty yards behind when Miss Comstock paused.
“You girls wait here. I’m going back and find the pilots.”
She started back alone, but Jane slipped out of the group and joined her.
“You can’t go alone,” she said. “If they’re trapped, maybe I can be of some help.”
“Go back, Jane,” ordered the chief stewardess. “There’s the gasoline. Smell it? The wreckage may catch on fire at any moment.”
“That’s just why you need me,” insisted Jane.
Miss Comstock hurried on. Jane was determined and there was no time to waste in argument.