One of the High Flyers ran toward him, protesting on the use of the monoplane, but Hunter waved him back with a curt explanation. Tim turned on the starter and the motor, still warm, caught on the first turn.
He was about to give the ship the gun when Prentiss ran toward him, a rifle in hand. The narcotics inspector clambered into the cabin and slammed the door.
“Let’s go,” he shouted. Tim nodded and opened the throttle. The field had been cleared for the stunt and he sped out of the hanger and rocketed into the air. With the motor taking a full flow of gas, he shot the speedy monoplane into the air. They danced skyward in a crazy, climbing turn that saw the earth dropping away from them.
“How’s Ralph?” Tim shouted.
“He’ll be all right. Got a nasty bump on his head but there’s a doctor patching him up now. He’s weak from loss of blood more than anything else.”
Tim, with the stick jammed back between his knees, was watching the drama of the circling planes. He was careful to keep behind McDowell as much as possible.
The old trainers had levelled off and were jockeying for the first dash toward each other. Tim’s hands gripped the stick hard as he saw them start. Then he relaxed a little. Ace hadn’t waggled his wings. There would be no crash this time.
The old ships soared past each other with little room to spare and Tim almost pulled his own ship higher by the sheer tension he was on.
Tommy was circling slowly for another dash toward Ace when Tim flashed past him waving frantically. In pantomime he went through the motions of jumping and then shook his head vigorously while Prentiss attempted to indicate to Tommy that his chute was damaged.
As he flashed by a second time Tim caught the look of alarm in Tommy’s eyes and saw the other examining the chute pack. There was the sudden roar of another motor and McDowell, forgotten for the moment, shot down toward them.