WHAT HAPPENED
Quebec was a fascinating city to Gale. The old churches and streets, the
people, friendly and smiling, all charmed her. She walked beside Brent,
feeling as happy as she had ever felt in her life. It had been such a
marvelous trip up to Quebec, and they had made it in such a marvelously
short time. They were to have a late supper with Mr. Howard before they
were to start back to Marchton, late the same night.
Gale regretted leaving this intriguing city so soon after her arrival,
but tomorrow’s air races would be thrilling, too. She mentioned this to
Brent and saw his eyes gleam in anticipation at the thought of his plane
a possible winner.
The two young people stopped in a little shop for postcards and
souvenirs and lingered too long. When they emerged onto the street again
and Brent disclosed his wrist watch they were amazed at the time.
Immediately they hurried to the little restaurant where they were to
meet Gale’s father.
There they found he could not go back to Marchton with them that night.
He had already made arrangements to stay at a hotel until the next day
for a further talk with the man he had come to see.
“May I stay too?” Gale asked eagerly.
But her father refused, as she had expected him to do. She was to fly
back with Brent as had been planned. Mr. Howard accompanied them to the
plane.
Gale had asked Brent to circle over the city and fly over a little more
of Canada before setting his course southward. Now as the plane streaked
over the ground and rose into the blackness of the clouds Gale watched
with interest the scene below her. Lights flickered on and off. She
noticed the stars overhead had disappeared. The moon was hidden behind
clouds and the air was much colder. Gale huddled down in the cockpit and
was thankful for her woolly coat, but she could have stood even more.
It was while the plane was flying toward the north, away from Quebec,
Brent trying to satisfy Gale’s longing to see more of Canada even at
night, that the storm struck them. Brent, before he took off, had felt a
little consternation about the unnatural darkness of the sky and the
hint of storm in the air, but he had felt confident of his plane to ride
it out. However, he had not counted on such uncontrollable fury or the
suddenness with which the storm was upon them. One moment they had been
flying calmly and the next they were in a sea of trouble, being tossed
about like a toy balloon. The motor turned rhythmically. Brent felt sure
they would come through the storm all right, but just the same he wished
Gale was either with her father or safe at home.
Idly he looked at the instruments on the board. His light revealed an
alarming fact. The gas needle was dangerously near to the empty point.
Was the instrument broken or was the tank really that near empty? He
tapped the glass on the indicator but the needle did not vary.
Suddenly the plane lurched heavily and turned over and over, going into
a spin. A down current of air had caught him unaware and for a few
moments the earth rushed up to meet them with terrific speed. Gale
wondered frantically what was the matter, but soon Brent straightened
out and the nose of the ship pointed gently upward. He would try to get
above the storm before heading south. If the storm was all along the
coast he preferred to keep away from that direction, no sense in being
swept out to sea!
Gale, in the rear cockpit, could have no inkling of the turmoil that was
going on in Brent’s mind. She was nervously clinging to the edge of the
seat, wiping the rain from her face, and endeavoring at the same time to
get a glimpse of the ground below them. The lights, now, were gone from
sight. No more did they twinkle on and off like stars. She looked above
and around her. Even the heavens were black—no friendly star or moon.
She wished for one second that she had insisted on staying with her
father in Quebec or rather still that she had never come to Canada at
all! But then she reconsidered. It had been no end of fun flying up with
her father and Brent. And it was thrilling to be flying back alone with
Brent. She had not had much chance for private conversation with him
ever since that night at the airport. She still felt embarrassed when
she thought of it. But he had been so nice and she had had quite a crush
on him! In fact, she admitted to herself reluctantly, she still had and
he was still nice! The very next day when she had gone with Phyllis to
the airport to talk over the previous excitement he had acted as though
they had never said a word. But she had not been able to pass it by so
easily. Mortification enveloped her every time she thought of it.
She noticed with alarm, now, that the motor had stopped. They were
gliding in a gentle spiral toward the ground. She strained her eyes
through the darkness, trying to see ahead to Brent.
The pilot was bent anxiously over his instruments. His first fear was
realized. The gas tank was empty. The man at the field where they had
landed had not filled it for the return trip. Brent blamed himself for
not determining before they ever took off whether there was enough gas
to take them back to Marchton. Now what would happen?
His question was soon answered. They hit another air current in the
midst of the storm. This time the plane could not pull out of the spin
into which it had fallen. Over and over they turned. Parachutes, if they
had had them, would have been of no avail in the fury of the elements.
Gale braced her feet and held securely to both sides of the cockpit. She
shut her eyes and waited breathlessly.
Up ahead Brent was working frantically to bring the plane down in a
glide, but it was no use. He looked over the side and wished he could
see upon what they were going to crash.
The crash came with a loud splintering and rending of canvas and wood.
Overhead the lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, but on the earth
all was silent, except for the whistle of the wind and patter of the
rain. The plane lay crushed like a bird brought low by a triumphant
hunter. The wheels were sticking grotesquely up into the air, the tail
mangled and the wings crumpled like paper.
For a long, long while, until the storm had almost wasted its fury,
there was no stirring of life about the plane. At last a brown jacketed
arm appeared and Brent slid from the front cockpit. He had landed on his
face when he fell from the plane, and now with difficulty he got to his
feet. Stumbling in the darkness he felt his way to the cockpit in the
rear where Gale was.
The plane had crashed in a forest and now as Brent tried to extricate
Gale from the wreckage of the plane he could not. The limb of a tree
which had been torn off by the impact of the plane lay squarely across
the fuselage, effectively pinning Gale in her seat. Vainly Brent pulled
and tugged at the limb, but he could not move it. Queer pains were
shooting through his shoulder and he felt strangely lightheaded.
Brent stepped back and leaned heavily against a tree while he tried to
see through the darkness. He must get help! There was nothing else to
do. He took a few steps away from the wreck and saw faintly in the
distance the flickering of a light. He started toward it, determined to
make as fast time as possible. The ground was muddy, and he could not
see where he was going. Several times he stumbled into muddy holes and
fell headlong over low lying logs.
Once when he thought he had come quite a distance he stopped. The light
was gone. On each side of him was nothing but darkness. Undaunted, Brent
spurred himself on. The thought of Gale behind him lent him fortitude.
He didn’t know how many hours it was since they had crashed. He should
have reached that light by this time. Unless—the thought gave him
pause. Suppose it had been a car on a road in the distance. It might not
have been a house after all! After a brief rest he continued on his way.
Sooner or later he must come to civilization!