The tri-motor had landed on a hillside, first striking a fringe of trees which had wrecked the undercarriage and then skidding along the hillside until the nose had dug into the ground, flipping the tail into the air at a crazy angle.
The pilots’ cockpit appeared badly smashed, but as Miss Comstock and Jane approached, a man crawled out of the wreckage. It was the co-pilot, badly battered and only half conscious.
“Slim’s in there,” he gasped, pointing back at the smashed cockpit.
Miss Comstock lunged ahead, tearing at the wreckage, hunting for Slim Bollei, the chief pilot. The smell of gasoline was doubly strong and Jane realized their grave danger, but she never wavered in following the chief stewardess.
They found the chief pilot jammed behind the control wheel.
“You take his shoulders while I try to free his feet,” ordered Miss Comstock. Working swiftly, they managed to lift the pilot clear and Jane was thankful that he was slight in stature. It would have been impossible for them to carry a heavy man.
They staggered away from the wreckage just as a tongue of flame leaped along the remains of the right wing.
“Hurry,” gasped Miss Comstock. “We’ve got to get farther away.”
The co-pilot tried to assist them, but he was too weak to help.
“Take care of yourself,” Miss Comstock told him. “We’ll get Slim away.”