But when it comes to enemy fighting planes it would seem that four minus two equals five for, as she looked again, she saw five planes zooming straight at them.
The sun came out from behind the cloud. At that all the planes shone in that bright light. Mary’s big plane with its precious load still climbed, but to her excited mind it seemed so slow. “Like a lumbering stage coach,” flashed through her mind.
The fighters, too, climbed. It was one of those times when a minute seems an hour, when the work of a lifetime is rewarded for good or evil in a trice.
Before the girl’s astonished eyes, a rare spectacle of the air formed itself, then put on its deadly show. Six planes, three of the enemy and three of her fighter escort, formed in a circle, head-to-tail. Each striving for the advantage, went circling round and round.
It was Ramsey who broke this up. Darting out from a cloud he sent a burst of fire into the tail-end enemy plane, then with a wide swing met the foremost enemy head-on.
Mary caught her breath. It seemed to her that they must crash. A moment more and they were hidden by smoke. One had been hit. Which one? She could not tell.
Free for the moment, the remaining enemy of the three headed straight for the big cargo ship. Then it was that the two-seater pilot, who had given her the bronco-nose salute earlier in the day, got in some deadly work, for, with surprising speed, he got on this last plane’s tail and brought him down in flames.
“Good work!” she screamed. “But, Ramsey? What of Ramsey?” She was soon enough to know.
After allowing her eyes to sweep the sky making sure that the two other enemy planes were not an immediate menace, she turned once more for a look at the spot where Ramsey and his opponent had been. They were not there, but high in the sky and still climbing, Ramsey was in hot pursuit of his antagonist.
“Both planes are smoking,” she said to Sparky who had come to stand at her side.