taggering to his feet a moment later, bruised and shaken, Stoddard gasped out:
"Professor are you there? Are you all right?"
A groan answered him, and for a moment his heart sank, but then came the reassuring call:
"Yes—all right, I guess. And you?"
"O.K. Let's get out of here, quick!"
An ominous hissing sound beat on their ears, as they groped their way toward the door. Evidently escaping gases from the deranged mechanism, thought Stoddard. The floor rose at an angle, indicating that the rocket was half over on its side.
They found the door, and struggled along the twisted corridor toward a flight of stairs that would lead below; found it, descended, and groped along another dark corridor, seeking an exit; when suddenly, around a bend, daylight confronted them, and to their joy they saw that one of the main doors had been burst open by the impact.
Approaching it, they peered out—to be greeted by an awed group of officials and mechanics from the field.
As they climbed through, dropped to the ground, the group retreated, taking no chances.