His impression is that I was really steering and trying to drop into
the Farthing Down beeches. "You hit the trees," he said, "and the whole
affair stood on its nose among them, and then very slowly crumpled up.
I saw you'd been jerked out, as I thought, and I didn't stay for more. I
rushed for my bicycle."
As a matter of fact, it was purely accidental that I came down in the
woods. I am reasonably certain that I had no more control then than a
thing in a parcel. I remember I felt a sort of wincing, "Now it comes!"
as the trees rushed up to me. If I remember that, I should remember
steering. Then the propeller smashed, everything stopped with a jerk,
and I was falling into a mass of yellowing leaves, and Lord Roberts A,
so it seemed to me, was going back into the sky.
I felt twigs and things hit me in the face, but I didn't feel injured
at the time; I clutched at things that broke, tumbled through a froth
of green and yellow into a shadowy world of great bark-covered arms, and
there, snatching wildly, got a grip on a fair round branch, and hung.
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