However, as I approached the land, I saw a number of human figures
apparently pursuing one who fled across a broad expanse of meadow.
As I dropped lower to have a better look at these people, they
caught the whirring of my propellers and looked aloft. They paused
an instant--pursuers and pursued; and then they broke and raced
for the shelter of the nearest wood. Almost instantaneously a
huge bulk swooped down upon me, and as I looked up, I realized
that there were flying reptiles even in this part of Caspak.
The creature dived for my right wing so quickly that nothing but
a sheer drop could have saved me. I was already close to the
ground, so that my maneuver was extremely dangerous; but I was
in a fair way of making it successfully when I saw that I was
too closely approaching a large tree. My effort to dodge the
tree and the pterodactyl at the same time resulted disastrously.
One wing touched an upper branch; the plane tipped and swung
around, and then, out of control, dashed into the branches of
the tree, where it came to rest, battered and torn, forty feet
above the ground.
Hissing loudly, the huge reptile swept close above the tree in
which my plane had lodged, circled twice over me and then
flapped away toward the south. As I guessed then and was to
learn later, forests are the surest sanctuary from these
hideous creatures, which, with their enormous spread of wing
and their great weight, are as much out of place among trees
as is a seaplane.
For a minute or so I clung there to my battered flyer, now
useless beyond redemption, my brain numbed by the frightful
catastrophe that had befallen me. All my plans for the succor
of Bowen and Miss La Rue had depended upon this craft, and in a
few brief minutes my own selfish love of adventure had wrecked
their hopes and mine. And what effect it might have upon the
future of the balance of the rescuing expedition I could not
even guess. Their lives, too, might be sacrificed to my
suicidal foolishness. That I was doomed seemed inevitable; but
I can honestly say that the fate of my friends concerned me
more greatly than did my own.
Beyond the barrier cliffs my party was even now nervously
awaiting my return. Presently apprehension and fear would
claim them--and they would never know! They would attempt to
scale the cliffs--of that I was sure; but I was not so positive
that they would succeed; and after a while they would turn
back, what there were left of them, and go sadly and mournfully
upon their return journey to home. Home! I set my jaws and
tried to forget the word, for I knew that I should never again
see home.
And what of Bowen and his girl? I had doomed them too. They would
