he was wearing a chute. Neither he nor Carmichael had been asked to wear one and he wondered why. It puzzled him greatly.

“Ask him what’s the idea?” Hal queried, drawing Carmichael’s attention to the pilot’s chute. “Do we look like orphans? We’re his guests.”

Carmichael stared at the chute, then grabbed Rodriguez roughly by the shoulder and a flow of Portuguese ensued. Suddenly he turned back to Hal, his weather-beaten face a little drawn.

“Of all absurd excuses, Keen—he says he didn’t think to ask us if we wanted one. This is the only one on this plane—the one he’s safely wearing. He also says the bus is doomed—comforting news. We’re no less than two hundred miles from Manaos already and there isn’t a deuced place for him to land in this jungle.”

“Then if he thinks we’re doomed, why the devil doesn’t he turn back!” Hal said impatiently. “What’s the idea of continuing north? Besides there might be a place we can find if he’s got the nerve to fly low enough to see. There’s a chance that we’ll pancake and get a bit banged up, of course, but it’s better than letting a bus crack up right under our noses without us making any attempt to prevent it! If you ask me—he’s yellow!”

“I’m thinking so too, Keen.” Carmichael frowned. “You seem to know more about planes than this chap—at least you use your head in a pinch. What do you think the chances are if we landed as you suggest. It’s dense jungle right below.”

“If we could find a bit of a clearing we could take it easy and let her go nose first. One thing, I guess it’s all swamp down there, huh? Well, that’s a help—it makes a softer berth. But to answer your question—if we can find a clearing large enough, there’s a darn good chance for us skinning through whole.”

“But little chance of us getting out,” said Carmichael thoughtfully. “I can answer that, for I know the jungle. One of us ought to bail out in that chute right away and take a chance that this east wind blows him near enough to a settlement so that help could be had. It’s necessary for one of us to go, Keen. Otherwise we’ll all be lost. As long as Rodriguez is wearing the chute....”

“No,” said Hal decisively, “we’ll flip a coin. Heads goes with the chute, tails stays. It’ll be between you and me, then between Napoleon there and yourself. O. K.?”

“Suits me. Here goes—I’ll spin,” said Carmichael, taking a Brazilian coin out of his pocket and flipping it 

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