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of mishaps that had overtaken them; she also knew that he chafed at
his own helplessness. But there was no fear either in his voice or his
expression. He too was looking down, on to the thick impenetrable
jungle that lay below. 'We shall have to land in the trees.' Turning, he
called to the steward. 'We're making a crash landing! Malcolm how
is he--?'
'He's come round--'
'A crash landing!' shrieked Ingrid from the back. 'Oh, not with her in
charge, Clive! She's done enough damage already! Are you going to
let her kill us? Clive, can't you take control?'
'Ingrid,' he said softly, but through gritting teeth, 'keep quiet!'
'I'm going to die--'
'Be quiet!' he snarled, uncaring for her terror, portrayed by her
trembling body and staring eyes. 'Get yourself strapped in for the
crash landing! Tommy, sit Malcolm up and strap him in! Miss
Sheridan are you all right?'
'I'm not likely to faint,' she just could not resist saying. 'I'm not such a
poor specimen as that.' Nevertheless, she was tensed, and her face had
lost much of its colour. For her efforts were futile; the plane was
gliding, and as it rapidly lost height the dark unfathomable jungle
rushed up to meet it.
'Landing among trees is so dangerous,' she began, then stopped.
'Look!'
About five miles away was a dry river bed and, by some unforeseen
working of nature, one fairly long length of it was straight.
Clive had seen it too.
'If we could manage to make that ...?' Faun was talking to herself,
oblivious of the man beside her now. She must make that river bed!
She had no power at all, and with the plane fast losing height it
seemed that there was imminent danger of its crashing, but with
steadfast courage she persevered, refusing to admit defeat. A crash
landing was inevitable, but if it could be made along that river bed
there was far less chance of injury to the passengers, and also of
sustaining a major injury to the aircraft.
'Do you think you can make it?' No arrogance in the voice now, not a
hint of authority even. Clive Tarrant was fully alert to the tremendous
strain which was being put upon Faun, and it would not only be
ungracious, but highly dangerous, for him to say anything to upset her
at this time.
'I can only try.' She spoke softly, feeling very feminine in this
moment of terrible uncertainty and danger. She felt sure that, were it
possible, she would gladly have handed over control of the plane to
the man sitting beside her.
'Yes,' she heard him say, 'you can only try.' No fear fn his voice and
she turned, swiftly, to watch his expression. He had a certain amount
of faith in her ability to land this aircraft safely on the river bed.
She would never know how she managed it ... but somehow the
miracle was performed and the landing made without injuring any
passenger or damaging the aircraft. It was a bumpy landing, though,
for the river bed was strewn with boulders.
She looked at the taut face of the owner of the plane, endeavouring to
read what lay beneath that mask. It was impossible, so even now she
had no idea whether or not she was to achieve her ambition and work
for his airline. But it was only natural that a sense of victory filled her
when presently they were all off the plane and standing on the river
bank all except Malcolm, that was, who had had to be assisted by
Tommy and Clive and who was now lying on the bank, conscious but
obviously very 111, his breathing heavy and his lips blue and swollen.
Looking down at him, Faun wondered if he would survive the ordeal
which inevitably must now face them all, stranded in the midst of
dense jungle part of it primary jungle with trees reaching to heights
of a hundred and fifty to two hundred feet, their tops forming a dense
carpet through which little light could penetrate. The secondary
jungle lay for the most part along the river bank, the dry part of the
river being a wind-gap, Faun realised, the headwaters having been
'captured' by another river. In the region of secondary jungle the
ground was covered by dense undergrowth and creepers, with an
abundance of lianas clinging to the trunks of the trees, climbing in
their search for sunlight.
'There's no risk of fire,' Clive was saying, but added that they would
wait a while before entering the plane, just for safety's sake.
'Oh, what are we to do?' cried Ingrid, glaring at Faun almost
venomously. 'You could have killed us all!'
Tommy jerked, and opened his mouth to voice a strong protest, but
closed it again, returning his attention to the sick man lying on the
ground. Faun glanced at the girl for a mere second, contempt written
all over her face.
'What are we going to do?' demanded Ingrid again, looking wildly
about her and giving a shudder. 'We'll all be killed by wild animals!'
Faun's eyes glinted. She was fully aware that although Clive's
attention was concentrated on Malcolm, he was at the same time
listening to these hysterical utterings of his girl-friend.
'The best thing you can do,' Faun said to Ingrid, 'is resign yourself to
this situation which we're all in. We shall need your help--'
'What sort of help?' broke in the girl rudely. 'If you think I'm going to
play at Girl Guides and start rubbing sticks together then you're
mistaken!'
In spite of herself Faun had to laugh, but she did it quietly, to herself,
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