Reason was right. Hal's fingers clenched into palm to keep from seizing the gear. He must think it out, know what he must do before he ever shoved that lever a hair's breadth. With cold sweat bursting out to drench him, and his brain prickling to the terror of falling, falling,--yet Hal Dane held himself rigid, eyes closed, while in his mind's eye he made himself see again the paper diagram of a Wright motor's control board. In his own cluttered old workshop at home he had memorized every movement of manipulating ailerons, elevators, rudder. Memory must save his and another's life now.