We made a great sweeping half-circle, plunging down as though to attack and leveling at above two hundred feet. As we passed over the lines of watching men and the cart, two or three bolts stabbed up, fell short. Then a man's voice roared orders to withhold the fire.
Curtmann. As we passed at the lower altitude over the cart I saw him standing on a raised platform near its front. We swept past, and up again.
"We better swoop now," Jim urged. "This is as good a place to attack as any we'll ever get."
That was obvious. The lines of men were in an open glade. A few hundred feet ahead of them, the forest was dense again. It would be far more difficult for our Midges to swoop down and attack amid the enveloping lacery of vegetation.
And Curtmann, even though probably he had not as yet the least fear of us, already was starting to advance again. The men in front were marching on. Orders were being roared at the harnessed Midges. The cart went into motion. And the Forest City certainly was no more than a few miles ahead. Curtmann's murderous band would be there in an hour or two.
But still I hesitated to give the signal.
Little Meeta hovered before me. "The Master-God will order us down now?" she pleaded. "We will serve you well."
My heart was pounding. I nodded, with a lump in my throat that choked my voice as I shouted the signal sending so many of them to die.
A designated quarter of them swooped down. From up at this height, Venta, Jim and I hovered, with the rest of the Midges in a gathered group around us. All of us staring down.