WE were under sudden bombardment. Fort Wadsworth was firing; puffs showed from several of the warships; and abruptly a group of ghostly monoplanes dove at us like birds. They went through us, emerged and sped away. And in a moment the shots were discontinued.
“That is better,” said Tako. “What a waste of ammunition.”
Our direction was carrying us from mid-Manhattan. The bridges to Brooklyn were visible. Beyond them, over New York, mingled with teeming buildings was a mountain slope of Tako’s realm. I saw one of our carriers lying on a ledge of it.
A sudden commotion in our car brought our attention from the scene outside. The voices of girls raised in anger. Tolla’s voice and Jane’s! Then came the sound of a scuffle!
“By what gods!” Tako exclaimed.
We all leaped to our feet. Tako rushed for the door of the compartment with us after him. We burst in upon the girls. They were standing in the center of the little room. One of the chairs was overturned. Jane stood gripping Tolla by the wrists, and with greater strength was forcibly holding her.
As we appeared, Jane abruptly released her, and Tolla sank to the floor and burst into wild sobs. Jane faced us, red and white of face, and herself almost in tears.
“What’s the matter?” Don demanded. “What is it?”
But against all our questionings both girls held to a stubborn silence.
CHAPTER IX