"We have flown across Hungary in the night, and those are Hungarian regiments, giving way before the advance of Russian troops who have come through the passes from Galicia!" cried Stepan. "But that is not what counts! Look down there—to the right!"
Dick looked. What he saw was a small village that had suddenly become a city. Trains were drawing in, and a dozen or more sidings contained strings of cars that had evidently arrived during the night. As they looked a train stopped and soldiers poured from it.
"Do you understand? Can you realize what that means, Dick?" cried Stepan. "They are sending reënforcements from Servia! Those troops were among those who were attacking us. The Russian invasion through the passes has brought them back! That is what we came for—to learn if that were so!"
"Oh, I do understand now!" cried Dick, as a great light burst on his mind. He saw it all. This was what Servia had been hoping for; a weakening of the forces massed against her. No wonder it had been all-important to know if the reënforcement had really been sent! Then his eye wandered, and he saw something coming through the air—another aeroplane was approaching them.
"Look out, Stepan! Here comes one of their machines!" he cried.
Stepan seized his glass on the instant.
"Yes!" he said. "That is bad luck for it is one of their newer, faster machines! We must try to get away! Here, take this rifle. If she comes so near that she discovers who we really are, we must fight. Aim for the tank. A bullet through that will send them down quickly! But don't fire until I give the word. It is better to run than to fight, if we can."
And now, as if he had not seen the hostile aeroplane, Stepan turned and began to race south, in the direction whence they had come. There followed the most exciting of possible contests—a real race between aeroplanes, not for a prize or a trophy, but with life itself, or liberty at least, as the price of victory or the penalty of defeat.
With the slower, clumsier machine, Stepan still made a wonderful showing. He went up, then down, twisting this way and that, manœuvering with brilliant skill. The other machine followed, however, and it was gaining constantly, thanks to its better motor. Still it did not fire a shot, for it must have been difficult for the pilot to know what possessed the machine that he chased. It was so obviously an Austrian monoplane, yet its actions were suspicious.
At last Stepan reduced his speed. At the moment they were above the rival birdman, who was climbing to get on a level.