flier's spiral increased in steepness. Straightening up, he poised
himself while he coolly measured the distance; and then he calmly
leaped a matter of ten or twelve feet, over and down to the top of
the other craft.

The shock of his landing steadied it. Clinging fast with one hand,
the man bent and unbuckled the woman's strap. Next instant he had
lifted her, a dead weight, into his arms and then over his
shoulders.

His own machine was still scooting downward, its speed even greater
than that of the broken flier. When the man saw it swinging past and
below him, he instantly clambered, burden and all, to the edge of
the cockpit. For a second he stood, balancing precariously; and
then, half jumping, half diving, he plunged once more.

Man and woman landed in a heap in the sound machine. In a flash the
rescuer snatched his controls, and tried with all his might to
"straighten out." But it began to skid; and Smith saw, despite the
shakiness with which his excited agent held the binoculars, that the
craft was hopelessly out of control. Next instant the man caught
sight of the ship, not a hundred yards away; and steered straight
for her.

Smith's agent rushed back to the engine-room, where he immediately
located a new group of instruments. Smith recognized a telephone and
some wireless apparatus; then found himself staring into some sort
of a compound mirror system. Probably it was an illuminated tunnel
affair, opening into a long white cabin. Seemingly the place was an
emergency-ward.