“Don’t I hope we find one, though,” declared the other.  “Oh, wouldn’t it be too mean for anything, Frank, if we smashed the precious little machine just when we are at the last stage of our big undertaking?  If I lived through it I’d be broken hearted sure.”

“Look, then,” said Frank, earnestly, “and you take the right, while I keep an eye on the left.  Both of us can watch out ahead.  If it comes at all to be of any use, it’s got to be found inside of the next five minutes!”

“So soon as that?” echoed the other, in distressed tones.  “Oh, I’m afraid we’re in for the very worst experience we ever met up with.”

“Ha! hold on, Andy.  What’s that dead ahead?” cried Frank, who suddenly decreased the speed of the little motor.

“It’s an opening of some sort, though awful little!” ejaculated Andy.  “We can never do it, I’m afraid, Frank.”

“We’ve just got to, no matter what chances we take.  Hold hard now and if you can jump out in time, help stop her before we wreck her against a tree.”

Even while speaking the air pilot was starting to drop down.  He had made a specialty of this part of the business, knowing how very important it must always be to aviators.  The rise was nothing compared to the descent, for many a gallant aircraft has been injured or even wrecked by clumsy manipulation, want of room or some other cause while landing after a flight.

Andy gripped hold of an upright.  He tried to see down into that little slash in the great forest, as though it might hold every hope connected with his fortunes and the success or failure of his mission of mercy.

“Oh, be careful, Frank!” he called, as they just barely missed the top of a great tree.

There was no need of saying this, as Andy ought to have known.  No one could possibly be more careful than Frank Bird.  And yet this was one of those times when daring had to go hand in hand with caution.  The space in which they meant to try for a landing was so very small that it seemed necessary for the aeroplane to come down almost as lightly as a feather.

Fortunately the youthful pilot possessed a good pair of eyes.  And the gloom had not as yet entirely blotted out all features of the landscape, now that they were so close to the earth.

Andy was holding himself in readiness.  He knew that there would perhaps be an opportunity for him to drop to the ground and by pulling back, help to bring the little airship to a full stop before they banged up against a tree at the further side of the little glade.

Never before had Andy found himself compelled to do such a queer “stunt,” as he afterwards termed it; but he was braced to exert himself now to the best of his ability.

“Jump!” shouted Frank, as they came roughly in contact with the ground.

And Andy went.  He never knew whether he jumped purposely or lost his grip of that upright after the shock of the collision; but the next thing he realized he was straining himself with might and main to hold back the monoplane, already gliding along with sundry violent bumps, on the three bicycle wheels.