Even as the plane crashed, Tom knew that he had made the best landing possible, and that, for the time at least, he and Mary were safe.
As Tom had anticipated, the spreading branches of the great pine tree acted as an immense cushion, and as the Hummer was a comparatively small plane, she was buoyed up. That is, at least long enough to take up the first shock.
In a few seconds Tom realized that he and Mary must make a hasty exit from the plane, for it might slip from its position, and portions of it drop on them as they slid from their seats.
The poor Hummer was badly broken. A plane cannot crash down into a tree and not have something like that happen. They are not built for that sort of thing. Tom realized this.
“Quick, Mary!” he called. “Unstrap yourself and I’ll help you climb out and down. I don’t know how long this plane will stay here.”
Mary had recovered her nerve after the first shock of the crash and as soon as she realized that neither of them was hurt beyond more than bruises and a shaking up.
“I can get out myself,” she announced, as she loosed the strap that held her to the cockpit seat. “And I can climb down out of the tree, Tom. I’m glad I wore leather knickerbockers to-day.”
“So am I,” murmured the young inventor.
He had loosed himself in his seat and turned now to help Mary, but of this there was little need, since she was capable of acting for herself.
Several of the branches of the great pine had been broken off, and the jagged ends were sticking through the frail wings and the almost as frail fuselage of the plane. These branches thus held it in place for a time, but it might slip down at any moment.