The Wings of Pegasus by George Chatteron

Things looked pretty grim.

Of the tug there was no sign, where it was, I hadn't a clue, where we could be flying

over the top of it for all I knew.

It wouldn't be the first time that had happened in cloud.

A few feet in front of the glider I could just make out the V of the toe rope where it

parted to join to each wing of the horse.

Every now and again the cloud would thin out slightly and I would catch a glimpse of

the shadowy vague outline of the tug.

Sometimes I could swear we were almost flying alongside it and I swore at the horse

up, where do you think you'll go now you bastard.

I couldn't get rid of the thought that was going through my mind with nagging persistence

that all the time we were in this cloud there was a chance the toe rope snapping as easily

as a piece of cotton thread.

If that happened there was only one direction we could travel.

Downwards, down and down until we would eventually have to come to terms with the unfriendly

Atlantic.

I didn't fancy our chances if we had to ditch in this weather.

At 4,000 feet we were still in cloud and I was still struggling with the control column.

Harry was now sitting in the seat next to me as Percy had gone back for well earned

rest.

Not that I could imagine him getting much rest while we were being tossed around as we

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