“Germans!” cried Jack.
“Maledictions!” exclaimed the Frenchman.
For a second or two the Uhlans stood paralyzed as the machine shot upward. They had heard the staccato rattle of the engine from where they lay camped, not far off in the same woods that had sheltered de Garros and Jack. Thinking it betokened a skirmish, they had hastily run toward the noise just in time to see the wasp-like machine whirr its way skyward.
But the machine was not well above the trees when they recovered from their surprise. Rifles were leveled.
“Look out!” cried Jack, “they are going to fire on us.”
“Hold tight now, I show you zee trick,” rejoined the flying man quietly.
The aeroplane was now above the wood which on that side was a mere belt of tall trees. Suddenly the machine ceased its upward flight. It rocketed downward like a stone. Above it bullets whistled harmlessly as the Uhlans fired at the place where it had been and was not.
The ground rushed up to meet them as the machine plummeted downward. Jack’s head swam dizzily.
“We’ll be killed sure!” he thought, but strangely enough, without much emotion, except a dull feeling that the end was at hand. Then just as disaster seemed inevitable, the machine suddenly began to soar again as Jack could have sworn it grazed the tall grass.
Up and up they shot, in a long series of circles, and then de Garros turned and grinned at Jack, showing his white teeth.