Larry moved the throttle forward as far as it would go.
He peered ahead.
“Yes! There they are! Just a little below our level.”
Closer and closer they approached. The two airplanes were vividly visible in the bright light reflected upward also from the fleecy tops of wind-tossed cloud.
“They’re stunting—” Dick gasped.
“No—not stunting,” Larry forgot his voice would not reach Dick. “They’re maneuvering.”
It was clear to him. The amphibian, easily identified by its clumsy, bulky looking trucks, with the pontoons slung to braces, was trying to get away from a relentless biplane which sought to overtop it, to ride down onto its tail, force it down.
Two war pilots fought it out above the clouds!
In the airplane with one sat a woman whose presence marked him for a dangerous character, after the Everdail emeralds.
Behind the other pilot sat one of the Sky Patrol, at the mercy of a devilishly minded adversary, and he was as helpless to save himself as Larry and Dick were to aid him!