John's interest in what followed was, in a measure, scientific. He realized afterward that he should have been terribly frightened. In fact, he felt more fear later on, but at that moment the emotions that produce fear were atrophied. The extraordinary nature of his situation caused instead wonder and keen anticipation.
The Arrow shot to the right and then to the left. It dipped, and it rose, and then it darted on a level line toward the south.
John wondered afterwards that the delicate fabric was not torn to pieces, but Lannes was not a supreme flying man for nothing. Every movement was part of a plan, executed with skill and precision. Once more his hand played upon the rudder, as the fingers of a great pianist play upon the keys.
"Is the fellow directly above us yet, John?" he asked.
"Not at this moment, but I think he must have been several times. He has dropped at least three more bombs."
"Then his supply is probably getting small, and he'll be extremely careful with what's left. It's no easy task, John, to drop a bomb from a height, and hit a small target, moving as swiftly as the Arrow. Let him alone for the present, and look out for the fellow below. See what he is doing."
John looked down quickly. He had almost forgotten the existence of the second Taube, and he was surprised to find it beneath them and close at hand. The dark, hooded face of the man in the seat looked up at them. As well as John could judge he was using the superior speed of his Taube to keep up with the Arrow, and, at the same time, to rise slowly until they approached the point of contact. His apprehensions were quickly transferred from the upper to the lower Taube.
"The second machine is under us and rising," he said.
"And the second attack is likely to come from that point. Well, he can't drop bombs on us. That's sure, and we can meet him on his own ground or rather in his air. John, did you ever shoot at a man?"
"Never!"