A twist of the rear rudder sent the aëroplane away from the road; a touch of the lever increased the machine's speed; then, the next moment, he would have mounted high into the air—had not something happened.
The crack of a rifle came from below, followed by the crang of a bullet on metal, a woman's scream, and a sickening lurch of the aëroplane.
Matt tumbled from the lower wing, and then experienced a shock that almost drove his spine up through the top of his head.
Dazed and bewildered, he lay where he had fallen.
[CHAPTER IX.]
THE COIL TIGHTENS.
Matt's brain was a jumble of vague and half-formed ideas. He did not seem able to grasp any notion firmly, or hold to it realizingly. As his brain began to clear, its first lucid thought had to do with the rifle shot and the man in the automobile. Instinctively he turned his head so that he could have a view of the road.
The automobile had come to a halt a little distance away. The woman, who had been riding in the tonneau and who must have given the scream which was still echoing in Matt's ears, had thrown open the car door and stepped down from the machine.
She was young and pretty, wore a long dust-coat and had the ends of a veil flying out behind her well-shaped head.