All sense of direction was lost, nor could the compass tell him anything.

A glance at the barometric gauge showed him an altitude of but 850 feet, and this was decreasing with terrible rapidity.
Strive as he might, he could not check the swift descent.
"God send me a soft place to fall on!" he thought, grimly, still clinging to his machine and laboring to jockey it under control.
Close by, a thunderous detonation crashed through the mist.

His machine reeled and swerved, then plunged more swiftly still.

All became vague, to Gabriel--a dream--a nightmare! _Crash!_ Flung from the seat, he sprawled through treetops, caught himself, fell to a lower limb, slid off and landed among thick bushes; and through these came to earth.
The wrecked 'plane, whirling away and down, fell crashing into the river that rushed cascading by, and vanished in the firelit mist.
Stunned, yet half-conscious, Gabriel presently sat up and pressed his right hand to his head.

His left arm felt numb and useless; and when he tried to raise it, he found it refused his will.
"Where am I, now, I'd like to know ?" he muttered.