CHAPTER IV
A Flashing Cylinder
Joan was caught in the mighty whirl of the blizzard, her parachute opened with a spurt, and she was jerked back and forth like a feather while large chunks of ice shot against her face with sufficient force to lacerate the skin. She was a brave girl but now a great fear overpowered her, and she sent out a wild cry of terror.
Her scream reached the ears of her brother over the howling storm, and his heart went dead. What was happening to Joan? Would it be possible that she could still have a thread of her parachute left, and that the wind was ripping it apart?
With feverish eyes he sought in every direction. He could not see her. Then he realized how puerile his thoughts were. If he chanced to see her there was nothing that he could do to aid her.
Both parachutes had been made to stand up against hard storms, and they held notwithstanding the fact that they were whirled over and over in the rushing air.
After that one wild shout of fear Epworth heard nothing more from Joan, and now his own danger was such that he had little time to worry about her. He had to give his own chute all his mind. Drifting swiftly he was held up by the wind that got under his parachute. Frequently the umbrella tilted and he thought that it would turn inside out but his weight held it down in proper shape, and he raced onward. Suddenly a mountain of snow and ice shot up in front of him. He was on the peak so quickly that he had little time to think or act. Would he be slammed against a jagged rock by the terrible wind, and his head smashed, or would he be dropped into a deep crevasse from which there would be no possible escape—a place where he would freeze quickly or else starve?
He was blown over the summit with a scarce twenty feet to spare, and felt himself falling. He had not fallen far before he discovered that the mountain sheered off at this point with a deep precipitous cliff. This cliff shut off the wind, and he began to fall slowly. Looking down he saw no bottom. He was still in the air.
A sudden gust of wind, a wild shriek and something bumped against him. Before he realized what was taking place a pair of arms passed around his waist, and clutched him spasmodically. He recovered his surprise instantly, and in turn threw his arms around Joan in order that they should not be separated. The two parachutes had bumped together in an eddy, and now the ropes were entangled so that they could not separate if they desired. With a gentle hand he pulled the girl up to his level.
“Oh, very well,” she said calmly, when she discovered the situation, “we will die together. It is best.”
She was cold, wet, frightened, but was taking her medicine like a soldier.