Cries of alarm came from Dick and Carl.
The motor stopped with an impotent gurgle, the propeller slowed down, and the Hawk began to pitch forward and backward and to swerve sideways dangerously.
"Some one shot at us!" yelled Dick excitedly. "The bullet came from among the trees, down there!"
"Py shinks," roared Carl, in a panic, "ve're done for. Ged her down on der groundt, Matt! Be as kevick as vat you can! Ach, himmeblitzen, I bed you ve vas all goners."
"Steady, pards!" came the calm, unruffled voice of Motor Matt. "Hang on! Don't jump or let yourselves be thrown out. There's plenty of gas in the bag yet and it may be I can find a landing. Do you see an opening anywhere among the trees, Dick? Look sharp and speak quick!"
"I can't see the first sign of a clearing," Dick answered.
Just then the Hawk went into the wildest contortions. She seemed like a living thing, wounded to the death and plunging about in fierce agony.
First the car would be tilted until it was almost perpendicular in the air; then it would swerve to the same position, with the other end of the car downward; and, all the time it was leaping upward and downward in this hair-raising way, it was jerking violently right and left.
It was impossible for the boys to do anything more than to hang on for their lives. Occasionally they were swinging out of the car, above the tree tops, and again they would be hurled fiercely against the iron framework.
Matt, in this desperate plight, continued to keep his head. He knew that the bullet fired from below had struck and damaged the motor, and had then passed on through the gas bag.