“She won’t come up!” he gasped.
“Then we’ll have to crash!” murmured Mary.
Tom nodded hopelessly. He reached over and began loosening the buckle of the girl’s safety belt before unfastening his own.
“The only thing to do is to jump when I give the word.”
“Is there no chance of saving the plane, Tom?”
“I don’t believe so, Mary. But I’m not worrying about the machine. I can make another. It’s you!”
Tom put his arm around her and she leaned close to him. The machine was dashing downward now at terrific speed, and on a dangerous slant that meant the nose would strike the earth first, driving the engine back upon those in the cockpit. The motor had stopped, whether having been cut off by Tom or because of some defect Mary did not inquire.
“Leap clear when I tell you to,” said Tom, as he made one more fruitless effort to straighten the plane out so he could pancake down instead of hitting on the nose. “You go out on that side, Mary, and I’ll go on this.”
“If there was only some water for us to land in,” murmured the girl. “If we were only over Lake Carlopa instead of having to jump on the hard ground, it wouldn’t be so bad, Tom!”
“I’m heading for Jamison’s cranberry bog,” the aviator answered, pointing to a marshy place just ahead. “It will be a softer place to jump on than the fields or in the woods. I hope we can make it!”