I came close to her. Clearly I could see her in her seat. She saw me and faced me, and her countenance might have been the effigy's; it had no expression at all. No fear for herself; none after what she had seen on the sea.
She gestured with her head in appeal to me not to help her, not to try to do anything for her. I was putting myself above her and she was forbidding me the madness of attempting a leap to her plane.
I did not try it. I left my seat but before I could crawl on a wing, we were separated. The business required another pilot in my plane and steady steering of hers. I dropped back into my pit and pursued and watched her. Watched, that was all I could do.
I shot ahead of her, far in front, with her falling behind me. I banked about, staring back and praying—for what already had happened.
Her engine had stalled. From failure of fuel, or whatever cause, her motor was stopped and she was slipping, without the frightful force of the airscrew to speed her, down to
