“Some little airplane. I’d like to see it!”
“Airplane?” Billy snorted indignantly. “They are using dirigibles of course.”
“What do you suppose they wanted with all that nitrogen and fertilizer?”
“Couldn’t guess in a million years.”
Epworth sat up straight. He had caught a view of two wriggling red lights ahead.
“There are the signals,” he cried excitedly. “Something is going on ahead.”
Both aviators went into action. Epworth seized the controls and Billy grabbed a machine gun. Both were still thinking about the long cylinder-like airplanes described by the radio. Epworth kept his eyes fixed on the airship carrying the gold. A red rocket shot out suddenly from the side of this airplane; followed by another. These signals were answered by nine planes that were following Epworth’s guidance through the silent night lanes.
To one who did not understand, the sky looked like a pyrotechnic display.
Like avenging demons the entire convoy started toward the plane sending out the distress signals, sweeping through the sky without lights, and their silencers hiding their approach. But what they saw caused every aviator and every machine gunner to pause for a second in astonishment.