His firing, however, produced exactly the effect for which the lad had hoped. The cracking of the revolver and flashes of flame proved too much for the courage and fighting spirit of the bird. With a cry of alarm, it turned and flapped away. Then the boys, to their great relief, saw it begin a wild swoop downward.
They watched the eagle as it shot off into space, one moment silhouetted against the green pine forests, and the next passing across rocky crags, until, finally, the heavy atmosphere blotted it from view.
“A mighty lucky escape for us both, old king of the air,” breathed Bob Somers, with a great sigh of relief.
He steadied the rocking biplane, and glanced behind at the “Border City.” The balloon, considerably to the rear, had now risen to a very high altitude.
“I’ll have to make a turn and come about,” mused the aviator. “We’re leaving them too far behind. Here’s a chance to test my skill.”
Bob Somers’ forehead became knotted again. In the stiff breeze, with the currents of air no longer steady, he was facing a difficult task. All his senses were on the alert to detect the slightest indication of danger. Cautiously, he operated the levers.
The flying machine, obeying these movements, gradually changed its course, swinging further and further around. The planes began to tip, and, as the wind struck hard against them, the boys passed through several anxious moments.
Cranny, compelled to sit idle and trust his safety entirely to the skill of another, managed with difficulty to repress various shivery sensations that would persist in running through him.
The “Ogden II,” tipping at a thrilling angle, soared around, soon righting itself under the skilful guidance of the aviator. In a few minutes they were flying off in the opposite direction against a wind which blustered and sang, or chanted musically, as it raced past the planes. The two, at times, were forced to bow their heads to the gusts.
The “Border City” seemed to be still ascending.