There was a jerk and a roar as Bevans hastily threw the helicopters into gear, then a rapid upward movement that glued them to the floor until their bodies had gained momentum. Quick though he had been in carrying out orders, the pilot was not quick enough for the forces of Nature. As if incensed at this puny attempt of man to conquer her, she seized the frail craft in the grasp of her powerful winds and played with it as if it had been a feather. At the first impact Ted saw Roger strike his head on the edge of the refrigerator and slump to the floor. He tried to go to him, but found this impossible. The craft dipped dizzily, spun like a top, and rolled end over end. Gripping the doorknob, unable to help his fallen companion, he found his feet sometimes in midair, sometimes on the wall, and sometimes on the very ceiling. There was an unending glare of lightning and a continuous roar of thunder. Rain, sleet, and ice pellets alternately beat in through the unclosed rear window. The craft steadied a bit for an instant, and Ted succeeded in seizing Roger’s ankle. Dragging the limp form of his companion toward him, he passed his arm beneath the slender body and held it as best he could, meanwhile keeping a tight grip on the doorknob. Though the storm continued outside, Bevans seemed to be getting the plane under control once more, for it rocked less and less as time went on. Presently, too, the lightning flashes appeared farther apart, and the intervening darkness grew steadily lighter. As soon as he was able to release his grip on the doorknob, Ted gently lowered his assistant to the floor of the disordered cabin. Switching on the light, he made a hasty examination of the gash in the pale forehead and found, to his relief, that there was no skull fracture. After carefully dressing it from the contents of the emergency kit, he placed a pillow beneath the head of the still unconscious Roger, and made his way to the rear window. At a glance, he saw that they had risen above the electrical storm, but were still beneath a dense cloud stratum that shut off the sunlight like a blanket. He shouted up to the pilot: “All right, Bevans?” “Sound as a dollar, sir.” “Good. Keep those helicopters going and see if we can get up into the sunlight.” “Yes, sir.” Roger moaned feebly, then opened his eyes as Ted bent over him. “Wh-what happened?” he asked. “You were knocked out. Nothing dangerous. Be all right soon. Want anything?” “Cigarette.” “Sure thing. Here.” Ted placed it between the ashen lips and fired it with his atomic lighter. “Lie still for a while,” he counseled. “I’m going to try to make some observations if we can ever get above these confounded clouds.”