He did then what many a flying fighter had done before him. A quick movement of the control lever dipped the rear ailerons, sending the plane almost vertically downward toward the earth. With the engine stopped, he tipped to one side, and the machine entered the vrille, or spinning nose dive.
With frightful velocity, turning on its axis, the Nieuport dove through the agitated storm-clouds. The wind roared past him as it had never roared before, singing and moaning, like the strains of some wild, weird symphony as it beat against the plane’s wires and supports. Gasping for breath, almost dazed by the fearful whirling motion, the boy, nevertheless, felt the joy of triumph surging within him. He had cheated the birds of ill-omen of their prey. He could laugh at their efforts. They would never catch him now that he knew of their presence in the sky.
Down, down shot the little biplane through an obscurity so dense that nothing could be seen in any direction. And soon, while still surrounded by the heavy vapors, it straightened out parallel to the earth, and, shaken and rocked by the wind, sailed swiftly ahead.
But at that instant, just as all danger seemed to be passed, Don Hale made another most alarming discovery—something had happened to his motor, and though he strove with the utmost desperation to get it started it persistently refused to work.
“Tough luck!” he burst out, aloud. “This is the worst ever! Here I am miles over German territory.”
Filled with apprehension, with all sorts of dreadful fancies running through his mind, and the dread and uncertainty of it all making his nerves tremble and twitch, the young combat pilot volplaned through the clouds.
Presently he skimmed through the thinner mists, and saw the darkened and sombre-looking earth beneath him. His head was still aching from the effects of the headlong plunge. His breath, too, came in short and painful gasps. But all these physical manifestations were almost unnoticed in the pilot’s excited state of mind.
Was there nothing that he could do to avert the fate for which he seemed destined?
There must be. Surely his career as a combat pilot was not going to come to such an inglorious end!
Feverishly—energetically, Don Hale continued to manipulate the levers that controlled his motor. But there was no sign of it awakening into life. And all the while he was gliding nearer and nearer the earth.