He shook his head. The Albatross was streaking in at the Nieuport now. Their altitudes were about the same; both had leveled off from zooms. But now the German pilot zoomed again. And then, as Tex pulled back on the stick of the Nieuport, he came out of the zoom and dove.
The American pilot shoved his stick forward, to dive the Nieuport. He saw the nose of the tiny Albatross come up, knew that the enemy pilot had tried again to get beneath his plane for a shot upward. Both planes were streaking at each other now. Tex squeezed the stick-trigger. The crackle of machine-gun fire sounded, then died abruptly. But his fingers were still squeezing the trigger. The gun had jammed!
The German brought his plane up despite the odds, and then Tex’s gun chattered.
Tex Langdon groaned, banked to the right. A strut leaped, out on the left wing. Fabric ripped; the tracer stream of the other ship was tearing through wing and wood. A shape flashed up past the vertical-banked Nieuport. Tex Langdon twisted his neck, got a glimpse of the German pilot’s head. The two ships rushed past each other.
Once again Tex felt the desire to wing for it. He had plenty of reason now. His wing fabric was badly damaged—a strut had been splintered. And yet, something within him refused the chance. He swore hoarsely, banked around, leveled off.
His eyes widened. Slanting down toward earth, flames streaking up from her, was the Albatross! She was an eighth of a mile distant, and for a second he thought that his short burst, before the gun had jammed, had done the trick. And then he saw the other plane.
She was banking around, and evidently had just come out of a dive. She was a Nieuport—and bore the markings of the Sixteenth Squadron on her camouflaged fuselage. Tex stiffened in the cockpit. He forgot about the damaged wing fabric, the splintered strut. Lieutenant Adams—flying the dawn patrol! Adams had shot down the enemy with whom he had been combating!
His Nieuport was roaring toward the other ship. He cut down the throttle speed. Lieutenant Adams was dropping down toward earth, toward the ground fog. At intervals, as Tex followed him down in a mild glide, he could see the other lieutenant’s ship spurt a trail of smoke from her exhaust. The ship was all right; Adams was keeping the gas feed steady.