Over nosed the Ryan and with throttle wide open, she roared down on the Fokker’s tail. From the rear and above came two deafening detonations, and Bill saw the stabilizer and elevator to port and starboard of the Fokker rudder disappear into thin air. For an instant the big bus reeled drunkenly, then shot nose first for the sea, fifteen hundred feet below.
With wings creaking, Bill brought the Ryan up on an even keel, then banked. On the surface of the ocean there rose a cloud of spray. The Fokker had disappeared from sight.
“Gosh!” cried Bill. “That was a quick one!”
“I’ll say so. They must have drowned like rats in a bucket—or do you think any of ’em will come up?”
“Not a chance. They died when she struck. Think of the speed they were traveling! I could hardly see her nose under. Well, they started the shooting. That’s why old Fanely led us out here.”
“Didn’t want a gallery from below watching eh?”
“That’s my guess. Gee whiz, you certainly got in a couple of pretty ones! What have you got in there—a three-pounder?”
“Your father’s elephant gun—” Osceola told him. “And explosive bullets. Another shot, and I’d have had the whole tailplane off.”
“Well, you’ve got no kick coming,” said Bill. “Let’s hike for home, shall we? Nobody will ever see Professor Fanely and Mr. Lambert again. You’ve saved the government a big expense this morning, Redskin!”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of trials for the newspapers to grow rich on out of this business, Bill.”