Al knew that Bob wanted light. He ignited the flare, which proved to be a green signal blaze, flung it overside and watched its tiny parachute catch the air and suspend it.
In that light he swung his eyes to see what Bob meant to do.
The other pilot, arresting his dive, also flew along level, and watched, it appeared.
Bob, lighted by the glowing green flare, pointed to himself and then pointed to earth.
The other ship, coming steadily closer, was quite plain in the illuminated space. Its pilot made a similar gesture, pointing first toward the airplane Bob piloted, then downward.
Bob lowered the nose and began to spiral, as though looking for a spot on which he might safely “set down.”
On a wider swing the other pilot flew, observing his act.
Swiftly Bob summed up the situation. Beneath him, easily reached, was the wide ribbon of the asphalt highway. By heading almost directly into the wind he could “shoot” the road, and by keeping his engine running at partial speed he could make a “power stall,” letting the craft settle very gradually instead of trying to glide down, guess at the correct height and then stall and drop. To do the latter in the comparative darkness of the highway might result in smashed landing gear or worse if he stalled too high and dropped, or it might happen that he would “put her on hot,” or at too great speed and without stalling, come against the ground. In one case out of ten that might enable him to roll along, but if he struck the slightest uneven bit of road, or a bulge of the tar at the intersections of the asphalt road blocks, up would bound the ship, perhaps to stall herself and crash.
By using power he could keep flying speed while gradually settling until his wheels contacted the road. He could also rise more readily if he discovered that he had gone too far to either side of the narrow road—wide enough in fact but narrow from the standpoint of its use as a landing place.
He gave up the half-formed notion of trying to outwit the pilot.