But, before he could fire, Chester sprang to his feet, and, leaning out, grasped the barrel of the weapon in both hands. With a desperate effort, he wrenched it from the soldier's hands, just as he was about to pull the trigger.
Then, at a second command from Lieutenant Anderson, he dropped beside his friends in the bottom of the car, and it was well that he did so.
A volley rang out from behind. The hum of bullets could be heard overhead, and there was the sound of splintering wood, as others crashed into the rear of the auto, but the machine sped on.
Then came a second volley, and the automobile swerved suddenly to one side. The chauffeur groaned, but the car immediately righted itself and continued on its way.
Unmindful of the bullets flying about, Hal sprang to his feet and climbed into the front seat, where the chauffeur was making heroic efforts to keep the car steady, a stream of blood the while pouring from a wound in his head.
"Give me the wheel!" cried Hal, as the car lurched from one side of the road to the other, at the imminent risk of turning over.
He climbed in front of the chauffeur and his strong hands grasped the steering wheel just as the man's body relaxed and he fell back unconscious.
Bullets were still flying thick and fast, but the range was too great now for accurate shooting. Still, there was always the chance that one of the leaden messengers would hit Hal and end disastrously the career of the flying machine.
Without even checking the speed of the auto, Hal called to Chester:
"The chauffeur is badly wounded. Pull him into the rear of the car!"