Part 16 (2/2)
The pilot seemed to control his craft with the greatest difficulty. Trying to fishtail to reduce speed, the s.h.i.+p nearly went into a spin. Then it sought to land.
”Bet the gal don't know what happened to hen” Monk howled gleefully.
IF THE steel-haired girl was mystified, she was not the only one. The dapper Ham was also puzzled.
”What did happen?”
Monk slapped his bulging chest with a furry fist' ”Give me credit for that.”
”I didn't see you do anything,” Ham sneered.
”Doc turned the stuff loose, of course,” Monk admitted. ”But I mixed it before we took the air. it's gas.The stuff is in a tank in the back of the bus. Doc simply pulled a valve cord and released some of it. In the moonlight, our steel-haired lady friend didn't notice it.”
Ham glanced at the other s.h.i.+p. ”You can have the credit!”
”Huh?”
”The gas doesn't seem to have worked!”
To their astonishment, they saw that the other craft had straightened out and was climbing into the air.
”The gla.s.s enclosed cabin of the crate!” Doc said. ”Just enough of the gas got in to. cause temporary dizziness.'t The bronze man hurled the gyro toward the other s.h.i.+p.
His metallic features were expressionless. He reached a corded hand back into the cabin.
”Your rapid-firer,” he requested of Long Tom.
The slender, unhealthy-looking electrical wizard pa.s.sed over his compact little supermachine pistol.
”Every third slug in the ammo drum is a tracer,” he vouchsafed.
The other s.h.i.+p, instead of turning back to give battle, was flying a straight course not far above the water.
”Givin' her head a chance to clear!” Renny boomed. Conversation was possible inside the gyro because of the unusual efficiency of the silencer on the engine. The rotating wings had also been designed to create a minimum of wind-whistle.
Doc Savage drove after the other s.h.i.+p. It was flying slowly; he overhauled it rapidly.
”This is gonna be simple, after all,” Monk said optimistically.
The fight had drifted through the sky until they were now hardly more than a mile from the island which they had intended to investigate.
The isle seemed to be nothing more than an expanse of rock, spotted here and there with stunted, wind-twisted trees. There were many large boulders on it.
Doc Savage opened the cabin window. Air rushed in, together with the loud hiss of the silenced motor.
He aimed with his machine pistol.
But before he could fire, a tiny rip appeared in the fuselage of the other plane. This had apparently been made by a knife or an ax.
The muzzle of a machine gun poked through the opening, its snout slavering flame. The shooting was more accurate than previously.
Clattering, gnas.h.i.+ng, lead chopped at the underside of the gyro. Long rips opened in the fuselage.
Monk's pig, Habeas, squealed in alarm.
Doc juggled the controls with a dazzling speed to get away from the deadly leaden hail eating at the fuselage. He succeeded; then the lead storm found them again. This time, the slugs snapped in the region of the gas tank. They chattered with an appalling noise.
Again Doc maneuvered clear.
”Holy cowl” Renny thundered. ”That last burst opened the fuel tank!”
An instant later, colorless gasoline washed over the floorboards. It reeked in the cabin.
The other pilot had been more fortunate than he knew. The fuel tank of the gyro was coated thickly with a fire-proofing and extinguis.h.i.+ng compound -- it was practically impossible for it to be fired by incendiary bullets. A burst must have struck, opening a leak through the spongy protective coating.
A stark grimness had settled on the faces of Doc's men. The sky brawl had progressed to a point where chivalry had somewhat lost its appeal.
The gyro flung in alongside the enemy s.h.i.+p. They made a discovery which was nothing if not interesting.
”Hey!” Monk howled. ”The girl ain't flying that bus!”
THE STEEL-HAIRED GIRL was lashed in one of the bucket seats in the pilot's c.o.c.kpit. They could see that now, because she was pitching about madly, and apparently was on the point of freeing herself.
”I knew she was all right,” Monk chortled.
The actual pilot of the other plane was a squat fellow in a tan blazer. Due to the shadows inside the plane, they could not tell much about him.
”He ducked out of sight and flew blind whenever he was close to us!” Monk decided, his usually small voice a great yell. ”That's why we couldn't see him!”
The other pilot discovered that the girl had loosened her bindings. He flung himself toward her. Using the machine gun, he clubbed at the girl.
The young woman threw herself from under the descending weapon, then clutched its fluted barrel with both hands.
Pitching about in the fight that followed, one or the other disturbed the controls. The plane reeled over on a wing tip, motor bawling.
The squat pilot saw his danger. He released the steel' haired girl. Wildly, he battled the controls. But there was insufficient time.
The girl took one look at the water, then covered her head with her hands to break the force of the crash.
A wing tip knifed the water first. The wing crumpled. The plane hit the water and jumped end over end.
The other wing left the fuselage as if sliced off by an invisible razor. The battered hulk wallowed a few yards and came to a stop. It began to sink.
DOC SAVAGE drove the gyro toward the wreck. The windmill plane could land with equal facility on earth or water. Doc, however, did not intend to land. He hovered over the wrecked and sinking plane, the water some ten feet below. He turned the controls over to big-fisted Renny.
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