Almost instantaneously a huge
bulk swooped down upon me, and as I looked up, I realized that there
were flying reptiles even in this part of Caspak. The creature
dived for my right wing so quickly that nothing but a sheer drop
could have saved me. I was already close to the ground, so that
my maneuver was extremely dangerous; but I was in a fair way of
making it successfully when I saw that I was too closely approaching
a large tree. My effort to dodge the tree and the pterodactyl at
the same time resulted disastrously. One wing touched an upper
branch; the plane tipped and swung around, and then, out of control,
dashed into the branches of the tree, where it came to rest, battered
and torn, forty feet above the ground.
Hissing loudly, the huge reptile swept close above the tree in
which my plane had lodged, circled twice over me and then flapped
away toward the south. As I guessed then and was to learn later,
forests are the surest sanctuary from these hideous creatures,
which, with their enormous spread of wing and their great weight,
are as much out of place among trees as is a seaplane.
For a minute or so I clung there to my battered flyer, now useless
beyond redemption, my brain numbed by the frightful catastrophe
that had befallen me. All my plans for the succor of Bowen and
Miss La Rue had depended upon this craft, and in a few brief minutes
my own selfish love of adventure had wrecked their hopes and mine.
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