“Look! He’s coming back!” Al pointed to a speck. They listened and heard the drone of an engine.
“He’s back again!” shouted Al, and the people came out again, standing with backs to the glaring light, shaded eyes turned upward.
“No—he’s flying low, though,” commented Curt.
“Yes, he is.”
“Look!” Curt caught Al’s arm. “He’s in trouble—isn’t he?—yes, he is! Listen! His engine has stopped—dead!”
“Yes, he’s gliding!”
“He can’t land here,” said Curt. “He’s too low to spiral and shoot this little clearing—anyhow, it isn’t a place to land—not for night landing!”
“I wonder if the same things are happening that happened—when Mr. Tredway was—lost!” Al murmured. “That time, we heard the engine, and then the ship dived.”
“This one isn’t diving—it’s gliding!”
“I know, Curt—he’s getting over Rocky Lake. Come on!”