EXIT RENE
When they got to the plane, Rodriguez proceeded on into his cockpit,
motioning his passengers to make themselves comfortable in the tiny
cabin. After a moment they were off.
They bumped across the field, then rose into the air, hesitated a moment
as if they were going to fly straight for the jungle, then soared high
into the blue. Hal nodded with satisfaction, after a half hour had
elapsed.
“Some beautiful country,” he shouted at Carmichael. “Like a big painted
canvas.”
“You wouldn’t think so if you got lost in it,” Rene shouted back. “This
fellow’s taking us for quite a long hop, eh?”
Hal nodded and looked out of the tiny window down upon the endless sea
of jungle over which they were passing. The plane roared on through the
glistening blue and for a time neither of the young men spoke. Yet they
were both aware of a peculiar sound coming from the motor. It was not
missing, yet each revolution seemed more labored than the one preceding
it.
Rene looked at Hal questioningly.
“I’ve traveled in these things plenty, but I don’t know a thing about
them. But I can tell the thing isn’t running perfectly.”
“It isn’t,” Hal roared across to his newly found friend. “We’re going to
have trouble in a sec and I don’t mean maybe. If I could talk to
Rodriguez I could find out, but his English is painful and my Portuguese
hasn’t even begun.”
“If that’s the difficulty, Hal,” said Rene unconsciously using the name
with all the affection of an old acquaintance, “why, I can help you out
that way. I can speak Rodriguez,” he added with a conscious chuckle.
“Gosh, that’s fine,” said Hal. “Come on, we’ll pile up there and you ask
him.”
The Brazilian seemed surprised to see his two passengers appear in the
narrow, low doorway of his cockpit. In point of fact, Hal sensed that he
was even startled. The smile that he gave them looked twisted and
forced.
Carmichael questioned him in Portuguese, an undertaking which seemed
interminable to Hal. Meanwhile, the engine sounded worse and after
another second it began to miss. They were in for trouble. Rodriguez’
gloomy face augured the worst.
Hal noticed then with something of a start that he was wearing a chute.
Neither he nor Carmichael had been asked to wear one and he wondered
why. It puzzled him greatly.
“Ask him what’s the idea?” Hal queried, drawing Carmichael’s attention
to the pilot’s chute. “Do we look like orphans? We’re his guests.”
Carmichael stared at the chute, then grabbed Rodriguez roughly by the
shoulder and a flow of Portuguese ensued. Suddenly he turned back to
Hal, his weather-beaten face a little drawn.
“Of all absurd excuses, Keen—he says he didn’t think to ask us if we
wanted one. This is the only one on this plane—the one he’s safely
wearing. He also says the bus is doomed—comforting news. We’re no less
than two hundred miles from _Manaos_ already and there isn’t a deuced
place for him to land in this jungle.”
“Then if he thinks we’re doomed, why the devil doesn’t he turn back!”
Hal said impatiently. “What’s the idea of continuing north? Besides
there _might_ be a place we can find if he’s got the nerve to fly low
enough to see. There’s a chance that we’ll pancake and get a bit banged
up, of course, but it’s better than letting a bus crack up right under
our noses without us making any attempt to prevent it! If you ask
me—he’s yellow!”
“I’m thinking so too, Keen.” Carmichael frowned. “You seem to know more
about planes than this chap—at least you use your head in a pinch. What
do you think the chances are if we landed as you suggest. It’s dense
jungle right below.”
“If we could find a bit of a clearing we could take it easy and let her
go nose first. One thing, I guess it’s all swamp down there, huh? Well,
that’s a help—it makes a softer berth. But to answer your question—if we
can find a clearing large enough, there’s a darn good chance for us
skinning through whole.”
“But little chance of us getting out,” said Carmichael thoughtfully. “I
can answer that, for I know the jungle. One of us ought to bail out in
that chute right away and take a chance that this east wind blows him
near enough to a settlement so that help could be had. It’s necessary
for one of us to go, Keen. Otherwise we’ll all be lost. As long as
Rodriguez is wearing the chute....”
“No,” said Hal decisively, “we’ll flip a coin. Heads goes with the
chute, tails stays. It’ll be between you and me, then between Napoleon
there and yourself. O. K.?”
“Suits me. Here goes—I’ll spin,” said Carmichael, taking a Brazilian
coin out of his pocket and flipping it in the air. “Yours first, Keen,”
he called as the coin came down on his palm.
It was tails. Carmichael’s flip brought heads and with the next turn the
pilot lost too. Hal lost no time in ripping the chute from him and
adjusting it on Carmichael.
“Good luck to you, fellow,” he said. “I’ll try to find a spot as near
here as possible. Have you got our position.”
Carmichael nodded gravely. Rodriguez uttered a little squeal, the color
went from his face and in a second the plane began to wobble. Hal pulled
him from behind the wheel and himself righted the ship.
“I’ll keep hold of her now,” he assured Carmichael who stood anxiously
in the low doorway of the cockpit. “Our brave Ace isn’t fit to steer a
baby carriage. He hasn’t morale enough to keep himself going, much less
a ship. All right, now, I’m giving you enough altitude to let you clear
us nicely. Can’t keep it up more than a couple of minutes though. Listen
to her missing! Bail out now, Rene,” he added, using the latter’s
Christian name unconsciously. “See you later.”
“Sooner than that, Hal,” Carmichael smiled wistfully. “Promise me you’ll
be careful.”
“Doggone right I will! Scoot now!”
Hal knew he was going, knew he was gone. There was that about
Carmichael, he felt, that one immediately missed—that effulgent
something which seemed to radiate from his slim person. Now that light
had gone with him and there was no sound but the unsteady throb of the
motor. Rodriguez was huddled over in the corner of the cockpit
shivering, with his eyes fixed fearfully over the illimitable roof of
the jungle.
Hal, however, had ceased to consider his presence at all. Moreover,
there wasn’t time. Every precious second he used in circling lower and
lower over the glistening green jungle and trying to remember word for
word the valuable advice that the famous brothers Bellair had given him
as to what could be done in a pinch.
He had cut down a thousand feet, then two thousand, and then he could
pick out the colorful birds flying from tree to tree. A few hundred feet
more and he could see them quite plainly. After that he dared to let her
dive a little and coming out on an even keel he saw something between
the dense foliage that made his heart thump.
It was a clearing.