I glanced backward. He was right--about the fact of the rapping, at any
rate.

The huge wing was precisely in line to deal my unoffending cranium a
terrific whack, which would probably stun me, and certainly brush me
from my perch.

"There's a big wind coming!" I cried. "Look at those trees."

"By Jimminy! You're right!" gasped the inventor, recklessly hurling
himself upon the ladder. "Quick, Griggs. Come down after me. Quick!"

When one of Hawkins' inventions gets you in its toils, you have to make
rapid decisions as to the manner of death you would prefer. In the
twinkling of an eye, I decided to cast my fate with Hawkins on the ladder.

Nerving myself for the task, I swung to the quivering steel cable, kicked
wildly for a moment, and then found a footing.

"Now, down!" shouted Hawkins, below me. "Be quick!"

That diabolical windmill must have heard him and taken the remark for a
personal injunction. It obeyed to the letter.

When an elevator drops suddenly, you feel as if your entire internal
organism was struggling for exit through the top of your head. As the
words left Hawkins' mouth, that was precisely the sensation I experienced.

Clinging to the ladder for dear life, down we went!