“Lang!” he shouted, and waggled the stick.
Lang looked around.
Bob’s arm pointed backward and upward.
Lang, leaning out of the cockpit, to see around the wing-tip, stared.
“The cabin ’plane!” he cried. “I know it. Golden Dart.”
“After us?”
“I don’t know!”
But as Bob opened the throttle to regain flying speed without having to dip down too low, there came from the other ship a red flare.
It was, as Bob realized, a signal—not of danger but of command.
“Land!” it commanded.