He peered over the side: the rays were gone.
The nose was coming toward its proper point. Don adjusted his controls. They had first made a great circle, outward from its center, and upward in its arc. Then they had continued to climb, but in an arc that was on a different plane.
It took them far out over the swamp.
Garry, sighting the airport, saw that Don brought the nose to its proper line with the revolving beacon as the beam flicked past in its blinking circuit of the skies.
Chick, staring, with neck craned, over the side, saw something far more deadly.
“Garry!” he yelled at the top of his capacity, “tell Don—helicopter coming—up——”
Garry caught the call, but not its import.
He followed the line of Chick’s pointing arm.
Precious seconds were thus expended.
The strange, menacing craft gained an advantage in the delay of locating it and of discovering its purpose.