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 and Kent had been struck, I would fall spinning, faster and faster each second; faster a thousand feet down; two thousand; a mile; yet another mile to fall, spinning; still another mile of nothing below.

I twisted my shoulders to feel the pack of the parachute. I might leap clear, as Pete had done. But he could not do it again; and neither Selby nor Kent had been able to, from a plane sent spinning.

I looked down at the girl. She was mad—and something more. It was at this moment, when she made a stabbing swerve to follow me, without looking up, that I began to feel the cold tingle of the sensation that mere madness was insufficient to explain her. I had encountered something more remarkable than mere madness in the sky.

I was flying, with full throttle, for the cloud ceiling. I was giving my engine all I had. For the clouds, with their layers of concealment, displayed the best chance of escape. I might dive and dodge; but Pete was on my wing, there was three miles of the clear below us to the floor. I preferred to race her for