Just when the third Zero, in what appeared to be a suicide attack, leapt squarely at Jimmie’s plane, the whole picture disappeared, and the room went dark.
“Jan!” Gale exclaimed in sudden desperation, “What has happened?”
“Are you deaf?” was the startling reply. “Listen!”
Gale did listen, and to her waiting ears, above the sound of battle, came the roar of a single plane close at hand.
“It’s a Zero plane,” Jan exclaimed. “Perhaps he carries a bomb. He may have seen the sunshine on our window.”
Jan had drawn the thick shade outside their window, but there remained a small crack. Just as Gale peeked through this crack, the enemy plane passed so close she saw the flyer’s ugly face. Did he look her way? She imagined that he did. For a second he was there, then he was gone for good.
“Gone this time,” she shuddered, “But what about next time?”
Who could answer? Had the pilot of that plane really spotted their hideout and guessed its purpose? For the present there was nothing left but to carry on.
When Gale opened the window a wider crack to fix her binoculars on the few remaining fighters, Jimmie’s small plane with the slender wings was nowhere to be seen.
“He was shot down,” she thought in sudden panic. Of this she could not be sure. Nothing is certain in war.