“There goes the ’chute!” Dick was equally thrilled.
The parachute opened.
“The life preserver snapped out of his hand!” Larry muttered, giving up his effort to locate the moving objects in the glass and using his unaided eyes to view the tragedy—or whatever it would prove to be.
The life preserver was jerked away by the jar when the parachute arrested the fall sharply, making it impossible for a handgrip to retain the rope of the swiftly plunging white circle.
“Why doesn’t the other one jump clear!” Dick’s heart seemed to be tearing to get out through his tightening throat. Which one was under the parachute? Which stayed in the falling seaplane—and why?
An arm of mist, swinging far over the land, intervened between their vision and the shore line.
Into it, hidden from sight, the seaplane flashed.
Through its concealing murk flicked the tiny round object of mystery.
More deliberately, settling down, first the hanging bulk of the unknown man, then the spreading folds of the parachute drifted into mist—and mystery.
The chase was ended.