"Leslie F. Stone - Men With Wings" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stone Leslie F)

D'ARCY leaned toward me. "I suggest that we go in search of some likely place
and proceed on foot . . . If these fellows have some means of destroying the
plane . . . we'll be in a hell of a fix!"
Acting on his suggestion I caught up one of the ear-phones that communicated
with the driving seat; for D'Arcy and I were riding in the passenger cabin
while
Norton rode with Wormley, the pilot.
Immediately we commenced circling down looking for a clearing in which to
land.
We saw two clearings that were not very large and appeared too irregular for
our
purpose. Then the trees, great giants, spread out before us without a single
break mile after mile. We turned about then for we did not wish to get too
close
to the village of the winged men. We recalled the fate of the pilot who had!
It was Norton who called my attention to a sight below. On the highest tree
top
we could make out a figure and it was waving to us, beating both arms over
its
head. D'Arcy cried out. "It's a woman !"
It was a woman and Wormley dropped lower so as to pass close to her when as
suddenly as she had appeared she vanished from our sight into the thick
foliage
of the trees, pulled from below. We could do nothing but stare at the place
she
had been, as we skimmed overhead. We did not doubt but that she was indeed a
captive, one of the hundreds of girls who had been abducted in the last few
months.
We were wild with joy now. The search was over. Below us we would find our
quest. We knew at the same time that if we now returned to Cuzco with the
news
and brought out a squadron of rescue planes we would have been heroes indeed.
But fired, rather, by the eagerness to carry out our own mission we decided
in
favor of landing, if we could only park our plane somewhere! We had no way of
knowing then that our decision was to cost our party two lives, but on the
other
hand our own plans would have carried no weight at all in the next turn of
events.
Turning back we continued to look for a clearing, but the winged men had
already
a different scheme for us. We had no sooner turned about when we heard
murmurs
through our communication lines from Wormley. We could not understand what he
was saying, but it became noticeable to D'Arcy and myself that the plane was
acting queerly. Then we almost took a nose dive, but with a superhuman effort
Wormley held the nose up. He spoke into his phone.
"I'm losing control," he said.
We held on to our seats not knowing what was coming. It was D'Arcy who first
noted that he was cold and I began to feel the chill in the air, a northern