Immediately it releases the cords that hold the parachute in folds and the silk spreads out in the form of an immense umbrella. The air, getting under this, acts as a brake, and the person comes to the ground much more gently than otherwise would be the case. Even with the parachutes, however, there is danger in the fall, if it happens to be in a tree, and often there is peril in falling into the water. But, with all those, there is much more chance for life than if none is used. There is, too, always the danger that the parachute will not open in time, but this happens so rarely that it need not be considered.
“Bless my door mat!” cried Mr. Damon, fumbling with the straps. “I hope I don’t get this thing on backward!”
“This is the way it goes!” cried Ned, who already had his adjusted.
Tom, likewise, had adjusted his safety device, and now the young inventor, thinking regretfully meanwhile of this sudden ending of his hopes, began to prepare for “abandoning ship.”
“Come here, Rad!” he called, for though the colored man’s voice had issued from the galley with the warning cry of fire, the man himself had not appeared. “Hurry, Rad!” cried Tom.
A moment later his old servant showed himself.
“What happened, Rad?” cried Tom. “Quick! Is the kitchen on fire? The automatic chemical sprinkler ought to have worked!”
“No, Massa Tom,” answered the old colored man. “De kitchen didn’t cotch fire—jes’ dis pie whut I was makin’ fo’ yo’. I put her in de oven ob de gaskoliny stove, and den I forgot it. ’Case why? ’Case dat big giant got hungry an’ wanted me to fix him up suffin to eat. An’ when I were doin’ dat mah pie burned! Look, it’s laik a piece ob charcoal.”
“And do you mean to tell me, Rad, that you raised an alarm of fire just because a pie burned?” cried Tom, somewhat sternly.
“Suah, I did,” was the answer. “Why not? It was a fine pie!”