It was becoming more and more difficult to maintain our little
vessel in a horizontal position. Lower and lower sagged the bow
until it became necessary to stop the engine to prevent our flight
terminating in a swift dive to the ground.
As the sun rose and the light of a new day swept away the darkness
of night our craft gave a final spasmodic plunge, turned half upon
her side, and then with deck tilting at a sickening angle swung in
a slow circle, her bow dropping further below her stern each moment.
To hand-rail and stanchion we clung, and finally as we saw the end
approaching, snapped the buckles of our harness to the rings at
her sides. In another moment the deck reared at an angle of ninety
degrees and we hung in our leather with feet dangling a thousand
yards above the ground.
I was swinging quite close to the controlling devices, so I reached
out to the lever that directed the rays of repulsion. The boat
responded to the touch, and very gently we began to sink toward
the ground.
It was fully half an hour before we touched. Directly north of
us rose a rather lofty range of hills, toward which we decided to
make our way, since they afforded greater opportunity for concealment
from the pursuers we were confident might stumble in this direction.
An hour later found us in the time-rounded gullies of the hills,
amid the beautiful flowering plants that abound in the arid waste
places of Barsoom.
Pages:
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205