“Not more than 15 minutes.”
“Close in on him and I’ll see if this rifle can’t convince him that it’s time to come down.”
Tim’s right hand jammed the throttle on full and the trim monoplane leaped ahead, overhauling the old trainer rapidly.
McDowell, hearing the deeper drone of the motor behind him, looked back at them. Tim banked to give Prentiss a clear shot and the federal agent pressed the trigger. Tim could hear the sharp spats of the gun as the bullets sped on their way. Holes appeared in the fuselage of McDowell’s ship. Prentiss was shooting better. McDowell, pointing an automatic at them, emptied the magazine. His aim was wild and not a bullet struck the monoplane.
McDowell put the old biplane into a dive and Tim promptly followed. Twisting and turning, they resumed the battle they had waged over the Atkinson airport. Tim was flying rings around McDowell now and Prentiss pumped shot after shot toward the biplane but the air was rough and it was hard to gauge the distance accurately.
“Concentrate on his motor,” Tim shouted. “We can’t stay up more than five minutes more and you may be able to put his ship out of commission.”
Prentiss filled the magazine of the rifle again and, firing steadily, directed his bullets toward the motor of the biplane. Tim could see the black splashes as the bullets struck the cowling. There was just a chance that he might be able to disable McDowell’s motor.
The motor of their own ship coughed. Tim switched on the emergency tank and it barked steadily again. Their minutes in the air were numbered for he had no way of knowing whether the emergency tank was full or how much it held.
“I’m going to try to bring him down,” Tim yelled at Prentiss.
“What are you going to do?”