But his surprise and relief were not any the less on that account when he saw, lying limp and senseless across the slender stern shaft supports, the body of his young chum, for such Ned had grown to be in their weeks of work and association.
“Great Glory!” he exclaimed in his relief. “Heiny, hurray! he’s alive. Had an attack of air-sickness I guess, and it’s knocked him out.”
But in the midst of his jubilation came another thought,--a reflection that sent the hot blood curdling like ice water through Tom’s veins. Suppose the boy were suddenly to regain consciousness and, not realizing where he was, attempt to raise himself? In such a case he must inevitably be dashed to death through space.
Still further reflection, after the first gush of his joy at finding his comrade alive had subsided, convinced Tom that to get him on board from his perilous position would be no mean undertaking in itself. Ned lay some eight feet out from the end of the “running-bridge.” His inert form was balanced across the swaying, vibrating framework. Would that framework--it looked as slender as a spider’s web--bear the weight of the two boys?
Tom thought it would. He knew the care with which every section of the Electric Monarch had been constructed. Every rivet and bolt in her had been tested and retested to three times the strain that would be placed upon it.
“I’ll risk it,” decided Tom. “Here, Heiny, hold my coat.”
He stripped off his khaki Norfolk swiftly and handed it to the German who, too stupefied by the sight of Ned’s perilous position to say anything, stood gaping, open-mouthed, powerless to speak or move. He took Tom’s coat mechanically. Then speech came to him.
“Can’t you see I’m going out there to get Ned on board again?”
So saying Tom cautiously got astride of the framework, and began worming his way toward Ned’s still form. It was terrible work, but Tom knew that the return trip would be still more accompanied by peril. Steeling himself to the task in hand, he worked slowly forward while Heiny stood petrified watching him.
Foot by foot, or inch by inch, as it seemed to Tom, he drew closer to the form of the boy he had come to rescue. At last he could touch him and look into his white face.