"Thought I did," was the reply, "but whatever I saw has disappeared now. Guess I must have been mistaken."
But Jack had not been mistaken.
Far back, even now, a fleet of perhaps a dozen German air planes were speeding westward. For the most part they were small craft, having a capacity of not more than three men, with the single exception of one machine, which, larger than the rest, carried four men. The air planes were strung out for considerable distance, no two being closer than two hundred yards together.
And in this manner they overtook the hydroplane driven by Frank and
Jack.
Jack, again surveying the horizon with his night glass, gave an exclamation.
"Here they come, Frank," he said. "Let her out a little more."
Frank obeyed without question and the speed of the hydroplane increased from something more than thirty miles an hour to almost sixty. And still the Germans gained.
"This will do," said Jack, leaning close to Frank. "They'll overtake us, but believing we are of their number, there is little likelihood that they will investigate us very closely. We can fall in line without trouble and accompany them wherever they go."
"Suits me," said Frank. "Just keep me posted on their proximity."
Gradually the Germans reduced the distance and at length the first plane was only a few yards behind the craft in which Frank and Jack were risking their lives. The German craft flashed by a moment later without paying any attention to the hydroplane.