the flying field as some
men went running and others moved by swifter means toward the shaken,
nerve-racked Ribiera, on whose lips were flecks of foam.

Bell looked far below and far behind him. The incredible greenness of
tropic verdure, of the jungle which rings Rio all about. The many
glitterings of sunlight upon glass, and upon the polished domes of
sundry public buildings, and the multitudinous shimmerings of the
tropic sun upon the bay. The deep dark shadow of the banking clouds
drew a sharp line across the earth, and deep in that shadow lay the
flying field, growing small and distant as the plane flew on. But
specks raced across the wide expanse. In a peculiar, irrational
fashion those specks darted toward a nearly invisible speck, and
encountered other specks darting away from that nearly invisible
speck, and gradually all the specks were turned about and racing for
the angular, toy-block squares which were the hangars of the
aeroplanes of the city of Rio de Janeiro.

Little white things appeared from those hangars--planes being thrust
out into the open air while motes of men raced agitatedly about them.
One of them was suddenly in motion. It moved slowly and clumsily
across the ground, and then abruptly moved more swiftly. It seemed to
float upward and to swing about in mid-air. It came floating toward
the amphibian, though apparently nearly stationary against the sky.
Another moved jerkily, and another....

* * * * *

Just before the big plane dived into the wide white wall of falling
water, the air behind it seemed to swarm with aircraft.

In the cabin of the amphibian, of course, the bellowing of the motors
outside was muffled to a certain degree. Paula clung to the seats and
moved awkwardly up to the place beside Bell. She had just managed to
seat herself when the falling sheet of water obliterated all the
world.

"Strap yourself in your seat," he said in her ear above the persistent
tumult without. "Then you might adjust my safety-belt. Well be flying
blind in this rain. I hope the propellers hold."

She fumbled, first at the belt beside his upholstered chair, and only
afterward adjusted her own. He sent a quick glance at her.

"Shouldn't have done that," he said quietly. "I can manage somehow."

The plane lurched and tumbled wildly. He kicked rudder and jerked on
the stick, watching the instrument board closely. In moments the wild
gyrations ceased.

"The begin