“One plane is coming. I hear it,” Gale insisted.
There came the sound of voices.
“Who’s that?” Gale opened her eyes, then wiped the water from her face.
“It’s our Chinese guard. They weren’t killed. That’s swell!” said Jan.
Two youthful Chinese soldiers appeared round a ledge, dragging a heavy machine-gun after them.
“Too bad,” said the taller of the pair. “Wanna shoot this plane. Can’t shoot airplane—too fast.”
“Let me see that gun.” Gale staggered to her feet.
“Made in America,” she murmured. “Good old America!”
With skilled hands she set the gun up behind a pile of rocks. Then she examined each part with care.
“Good gun,” she told Jan. “My father is an expert on machine-guns. He showed me all about them.”