Part 6 (1/2)

This gave him a better chance, although at any second one of the flying bullets was apt to find its way aboard and do either himself or Morgan an ill turn.

Whichever way he turned so wheeled those sentry planes above. They were like a trio of hungry cats watching the twistings and turnings of a poor mouse that had its safety-hole stopped up, and could find no means of escape left open. And with three agile cats on guard what chance had little Mr. Mouse?

But then Jack Parmly had often proved himself to be one of those who refuse to call themselves beaten until the very last effort has been made. He had been in tight places before, and had always managed to wriggle out by some means or other.

Besides this, there was some hope that his predicament would be seen by other American airmen scouring around the skies, who, with the accustomed daring of their breed, would fly immediately to his relief.

Even as this thought flashed through his brain Jack believed he heard the sound of firing directly above him; though it was only because of a sudden lull in the continual fighting all through that region that he was able to discover this fact.

Then came a yell from Morgan, who, not having to manipulate the motor and handle the levers, had been better able to observe all that was going on around them.

”Shoot up, Jack? We've got to do our share in driving those Boches off!”

Yes, there had been an increase in the number of circling planes hovering over them, since Jack could now count five. All were in violent motion, circling this way, and darting the other, rising and falling in a movement only adopted when a fierce engagement was on.

Even though their flight was so rapid Jack quickly made the two newcomers out to be friends, for they handled machines similar to his own.

That opened a way for him to escape possible destruction at the hands of the gunners below, who were increasing their volume of fire. So up Jack turned the nose of his plane, and quickly reached the elevation where all this work was going on.

So the battle of the six enemy planes began, Jack immediately singling out one of the Huns for his own particular attention. Alert, eager, and fairly itching to get even with the Boche fliers for the fright they had given him, Morgan crouched in his seat, ready to start firing when the first favorable moment came along.

It must have been an inspiring sight to any who watched the fight from below; at least, if he wore the khaki of the American army boys. The Germans would hardly be so apt to suck consolation from the picture, since it early became apparent that their representatives no longer attacked with dash and enthusiasm, but seemed to be acting solely on the defensive.

They may have been veteran aces, with a long list of disabled planes to their individual credit, but there was something about the dash and vim of these Yankee fliers that combined all the better qualities of both British and French airmen, and discouraged the enemy greatly.

Jack swooped down upon his antagonist, and fired when he fancied he had the enemy in range of his machine-gun fire. The Boche on his part was reciprocating, so that the exchange of shots was mutual.

They pa.s.sed at a little distance like swallows on the wing, the guns chattering and smoking, and the air filled with a shower of missiles that for the most part would be utterly wasted.

Then Morgan took up the challenge, and continued to pepper the speeding Gotha as long as it remained within range. A turn on the part of Jack put a temporary end to the bombardment. But now they were once more spinning toward the enemy.

Around them a wild scene was being enacted, with the other quartette of planes swooping down on each other.

Apparently all this work had so far been without result; but Jack could plainly see that the Huns were quite satisfied with what little they may have accomplished in the battle, and were anxious to pull out.

As if a concerted signal had been given, the three Gothas were soon in retreat. No doubt the sight drew many a hoa.r.s.e, derisive yell from watching Americans below, who could not understand the feeling of extreme caution that would tempt an air pilot to turn tail and run for home when opposed on equal terms.

They made excellent speed, too, and after chasing them for a short distance the Americans turned back. There was work much more important awaiting their attention just then than following the fleeing Boche fliers to some spot, where possibly a swarm of their mates would be turned loose to cut off escape and bring the daring Americans down.

One of the two friendly machines that had so opportunely come to the relief of Jack and Morgan now approached. To the delight of Jack he recognized in the m.u.f.fled figure waving a gloved hand at him no other than Harry Leroy.

”A bunch of slick runners all right, Jack!” bawled Nellie's brother, as the two planes pa.s.sed not far distant from each other.

”They're all right when three to one!” answered Jack, as he circled in order to keep close to the other for a brief time.

”What luck?” demanded Harry; for of course that was the one important subject ever on their minds when thus out hunting for hidden snipers'

nests.

”Got two to-day so far,” called Jack. ”Then came over here looking for a boss nest. Found it, too, down there; and we're going now to see what our battery boys can do with it.”