“Perhaps he wants to land and is asking us about a safe place to land.”
“I doubt it,” answered Jack. “He doesn’t seem to be in any trouble. And coming from the direction he did, he must have passed the Stanhope airport.” There was a pause while Jack continued to watch. “I think he’s using his wireless,” he called out. “See if you can pick him up.”
William inserted a plug and turned a disc on the dashboard. Half a minute later, William nosed his plane into a dive and was off. But the Bristol was right on its tail. “That guy is a confederate of those smugglers,” hissed William. “He was asking if the stuff was on board and we were ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“He didn’t say. Just asked if we were ready.”
The next moment they heard a sharp sound and knew that the pilot of the Bristol had fired at them, the bullet burying itself in some part of the fuselage or wings. William brought the nose up and began to climb. Simultaneously he cried, “Load the revolvers, Jack, and see if you can fire back.”
William wondered what he could do to get the pursuing plane off his trail. He banked and dived again and came up climbing. Jack broke a window, stuck his hand out and fired point blank at the nose of the Bristol. He pulled the trigger fast and emptied his revolver. A bullet must have struck close to the pilot, for the next instant the Bristol dived.
The Bristol was a much faster plane, easier to manoeuver than the craft the boys were in. “What are you going to do now?” queried Jack anxiously.
“I’m going up into the clouds and try to shake him.”