On he flew. His machine was hit in many places, principally the wings,
the tail and along the under side of the fuselage. Through this had
come the ball that nearly perforated the tank.
There was one more opening ahead and then the trench sank out of sight
near the base of the low bluff. Orry's hand closed over the first
grenade. He was really an expert bomb-thrower. At great risk he
dipped gradually until, when about at the point overhead he desired, he
threw two bombs in swift succession. Then-up, up rapidly. With all
the power of his engine he climbed, while two sharp explosions sounded
from below.
Had the lad looked down he would have seen the trench walls at the open
space crumble inward, while the mass of moving gray appeared to
disintegrate, to vanish for the time being.
But with the throwing of the bombs, Erwin had other work on hand.
Archie had broken loose again. One larger molded shot ripped through
the tail of the Bleriot, ricocheted obliquely and hit that same tank
again, but with more force. His head lowered, the lad saw what had
been done. More than that he saw what impended. The petrol was low.
Being under fire, at any moment a stray shot might ignite what little
was left. Pointing the machine still more upward, he seized a bunch of
loose lint, used to sop up recurring leaks here and there, and with a
handy screw driver he managed to stop the rent in the metal with a few
sharp adroit punchings.
Pages:
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43