‘Steady, you crazy punk!’ Baird snarled, ‘or you’ll have us over!’
Rico controlled himself and began to paddle more carefully. The boat swung towards the bank and the sheltering darkness of the trees. They were within three or four yards of cover when the aircraft went roaring overhead.
It was flying low, and the roar of its engine and the rush of wind from its slipstream made both men duck. It was gone as quickly as it had come.
‘Hell!’ Baird exclaimed. ‘Think they were looking for us?’
Rico wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hand.
‘They couldn’t have seen us,’ he said uneasily. ‘It’s nearly dark, and at that speed…’
‘Better get going,’ Baird said. ‘Keep nearer to the bank, and put your back into it.’
Rico drove the boat forward. He was rapidly tiring. It was years since he had taken any exercise, and paddling a boat as heavy as this made his arms ache.
‘I can’t keep this up much longer,’ he panted. ‘Can’t you take a turn?’
‘You’re damn well going to,’ Baird said. ‘Take a look at this,’ and he thrust his swollen arm at Rico.