“See here,” he demanded sharply, “how long is this flight going to keep up?”
“The further the better,” was the indefinite response. “You know what I’m after—to get us far and fast as possible from the people I don’t want to see. Hey—what’s that?”
Hiram uttered a quick cry of joy. Of a sudden a swaying flash of light moved over and beyond them. A radiant, searching pencil of brilliancy wavered and dilated.
“It’s a biplane searchlight,” thought Hiram, holding his nerves as steady as he could, and not daring to look behind him. “It’s the Ariel—it’s Dave!”
“Say, what’s that now?” muttered his passenger, fidgeting about and straining his neck.
“It’s an airship, like our own,” replied Hiram.
“They’re chasing us!” exclaimed the man.
“I can’t help that,” retorted Hiram, coolly.
“Well, aren’t they?” persisted the passenger. “See! they’ve got us in their focus, and they’re keeping us there. You take a look and see if that isn’t so.”
Hiram ventured a glance backwards. It was swift and fleeting. It persuaded him that he was not wrong as to the identity of the biplane.