There was a ripping, tearing sound; the German plane wavered and started to fall as the craft in which the boys were flying dashed by. But, by a superhuman effort, the German succeeded in righting his craft.
Then, holding the wheel steady with one hand, he calmly produced a revolver and took deliberate aim at Hal.
There was a sharp crack, followed immediately by another, but Hal was unharmed.
Realizing the German’s purpose, Chester’s weapon had spoken a second before that of the enemy. The lad had not had time to take careful aim, but the bullet sped true, striking the German squarely in the forehead, even at the moment his finger pressed the trigger of his own revolver.
Chester saw the man throw up his hands and fall backward. The German plane, now without a hand to keep it steady, rocked crazily for several moments, then turned turtle and went tumbling over and over toward the ground.
“Did you get him, Chester?” asked Hal, who had not turned his head, and therefore had not perceived his own danger.
“Yes, I got him,” replied Chester simply.
“Good!” returned Hal. “And the machine?”
“Gone!”
The lads now paused to take stock of their own damage, if any. There was none. Not a German bullet had so much as struck the machine.