"I must put on
more speed. Won't do for me to fail to return."
About that time a breeze sprang up from the east and the skies cleared
through a narrow Vista, showing a war-scarred belt of country below
with a small town ahead; that is, toward the west. But before he had
time to consider this, he saw two airplanes rising from the main street
of the little town, while the detonations of the Archies grew into a
continuous roar.
"Guess they think they've cornered me," he thought, "but I'll give them
a race at least. If I have to, I'll fight."
While reflecting, his machine was still rising rapidly, with the two
Boche planes in pursuit.
"They won't catch me unless I'm crippled by those pesky Archies."
Even while he thought, a stray fragment of shell penetrated the
fuselage of the triplane and, striking one of the propeller shafts, so
bent it that the lightning-like blades began to revolve more slowly,
despite all his efforts to increase his motor power.
For the first time Erwin became seriously alarmed. Try as he might, he
was in no position to stop to make repairs, nor could he descend with
safety. Apparently the only thing for him to do was to speed up as
best he could, try to avoid this pursuit and, if it came to close
quarters, put up the best fight possible under the circumstances.
This, of course, he did. But the sight of their own planes pursuing,
and at the same time signaling to their friends below, caused Erwin at
once to become the target for a continuous line of Archies, extending
from the front line German trenches way back to the unknown distances
in their rear.
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