Hall walked forward, stood behind the men at the instruments. The navigator was making his readings under a shielded blue light. Millares, the pilot, pulled back on his stick, slightly, begging altitude at a minimum loss of air speed as he climbed to put more distance between the plane and the string of lower hills which lay across their course.
The navigator suddenly became very busy at his radio. "Major," he said into his microphone, "we are being called by a ground station. They've spotted us. They want to know who is in command, and what flight this is."
"Stick to your course," Segador answered. "Maximum speed." He crawled back to the main cabin.
"What shall I answer, Major?"
"Don't answer them. We'll just act as if we didn't pick up their signal."
"Yes, Major. They're repeating their request."
"Mateo," Segador said, "this is very bad. I don't know who controls the ground station. We can't take chances. I'm jumping as soon as it gets dark."
"That's a matter of minutes."
"I know. Navigator, the plan remains the same, except that I jump in ten minutes. Ignore all ground challenges on your way back to San Martin."
"I'm jumping with you," Hall said.