For a moment his head reeled, and he felt that horrible impulse to let go and fling himself down.
Starley's strong arm was round him. "All right, sonny, you'll get over that in a jiffy. When you feel fit again we must hold a council of war."
"I'm all right," declared Clifford, half angrily. He was savage with himself for giving way. "What are we going to do now?"
"That's just the trouble," replied the American with a dry smile. "It beats me to know how we're going to get back to the solid."
"Can't we both go down in your parachute?"
Starley shook his head. "She'll take my weight, and not ten pounds more. If we both hung on to her we'd rip the stuffing out of her, and there'd just be a splash to show where we hit the floor."
Clifford glanced at his companion with startled eyes.
"There's worse than that, sonny," went on the other. "You see, this isn't like a balloon that'll come down just when you like by pulling a valve cord. She's just an old thing I use for these descents, and trust to pick up wherever she happens to fall."
"Then you and I can't go down together?" said Clifford sharply.