CHAPTER V
STORM-TOSSED WINGS
Puffs of cool wind began to bend the tall grass while Don and Garry bent and pulled back at the dory’s oars.
Rapidly the intensity of fitful flashes in the North increased, and the storm drew closer.
“Think we can make it?” gasped Garry.
“Hope so!” Don responded over his shoulder.
Ahead of them, but fully exposed to the blast of the coming tempest, lightning flashes revealed the torn, broken shape of the mail ’plane. If they could get there before the storm broke in its full fury they might rescue its pilot from the added menace of turbulent waters.
Already, while they were a quarter of a mile away, they saw that the time was all too short.
“Don!” called Garry, “I thought I saw a sort of path on the shore, along the water, when the lightning came that last time.”
“I thought this was all marshy, soft ground,” commented Don, “but it might be that we could get around to the mail crate quicker if there was solid earth to run on. Let’s try!”
They let the increasing wind drift them, aiding their efforts.