Hastily, he attempted to undo the result of Willie’s imprudent action. It was a moment such as may happen in any aviator’s career, when a false move may send the machine crashing like a broken-winged bird to the ground.
With the engine in reverse, and their momentum only slightly checked, the biplane shot straight toward a rise in the prairie. Another instant, and they would be upon it. All Bob Somers hoped for was to prevent the machine from smashing against the ground with dangerous violence.
But Willie Sloan was even more frightened than ever. A glance at Bob Somers’ knit forehead and firm-set lips gave him no encouragement. A dreadful vision of being held fast with plunging longhorns on every side caused him to reach down and unfasten the leather strap which stretched across the seat. Then he partly rose to his feet.
It was his second blunder, and, like the first, had a most disastrous effect. Several straggling steers were wildly attempting to race out of the biplane’s path, and, in spite of Bob’s quick effort to prevent it, one swinging directly beneath was struck a glancing blow by the descending ’plane. Willie Sloan, partly off his balance, became, the next instant, completely so. He began to topple—a sharp cry came from his lips—he was falling.
The little red book, the innocent cause of this startling incident, slipped from his pocket, to strike an unappreciative steer in the eye, while Willie himself dropped squarely upon the back of another.
Wildly he threw out his hands, and grasped with all his might an immense pair of horns.
Five seconds later, Mr. Beaumont’s ward, still clinging desperately to his novel steed, was being carried away from the scene of the accident.
CHAPTER XIV
MILLING THE HERD
When Willie Sloan made his unfortunate move, it took the six boys riding on the prairie but a moment to realize that something was wrong with the flying machine.
“Hello, Dick Travers, look at that!” called Cranny Beaumont to the nearest rider.