"What kind of guns have you got?" said Price. "Damn it, give me the rifle."
Twist said, "Let him have it."
Price was a good shot. Not brilliant, just good. But today he was phenomenal. He blasted the lens and whatever insides there were behind it as fast as he could pump the cartridges into the chamber and fire them. He didn't miss once. And the disc flopped and slipped and crashed down sideways in the woods.
Price leaped for the plane. "Come on," he said.
The others were staring at him, with their jaws hanging open. "Did you see that? Did you see that gun?"
"Come on," Price yelled, "or I'm going without you!"
They tumbled in. Price started the motor, gunned it savagely, and took off as though the devil was on his tail. One of the men, he didn't know which, yelled out in sheer fright, once. Then they were clear of the tree-tops and climbing fast.
Price looked over his shoulder, and once again he thought he saw that dark metallic gleaming in the northeast.
"Which way?"