“There’s a rather large clearing about fifty miles down. Think you can make it?”
“We’ll have to try,” came in a man’s strong, even tone. “We’re on one motor now. The other is cutting out on me. Can’t tell how soon it will quit dead.”
“We’ll tag along,” came in the girl’s voice. “If you make it—”
“If we get that far, we’ll try a landing,” was the answer.
“And if anything goes wrong—”
“You’ll fly right on.” The man’s voice was harsh, insistent. “Remember! Secret—”
“Don’t say it, Sparky!” The girl’s voice rose sharp as an alarmed bird’s. “Don’t say it!”
“All right! All right!” the man’s voice grumbled into the tropical air. “Then I won’t say it. All the same—”
“All the same, if you go down there we’re coming right down after you,” the girl insisted. “You know what our orders were, to fly in pairs. If one plane is disabled, its mate must go to the rescue. All other planes must go straight on. We’re on a mission of destruction. That’s all we know. It’s urgent. We must go through!”
“Okay, sister, that’s why you should fly right on.”