"Will we make it?" he asked himself. "If we do, what will we do then?"
Too late to consider pros and cons now. The die was cast, either for
good or ill. Then, all at once, he saw Buck's small triplane rise at a
marvelous speed, while from the south came several other planes, almost
skimming the ground in their onward rush. Also, still further on, was
a confused mass that was struggling rearward, though what it could be
was puzzling. It was still too dark to distinguish things clearly when
unaided by the fires.
A whistling, whirring swish swept startlingly near his own plane, now
at last rising high over the ruins of the oval, forty yards of which
were scattered over the earth. From this sounded a well-known voice
through a megaphone:
"Follow me -- you -- Lafe! Boches ahead. Follow me -- dodge 'em."
That was all, but it was enough.
CHAPTER XVIII
BACK HOME
Blaine knew good advice when it came. His own more cumbersome machine
having at last the right slope for rising, even in its crippled state,
did rise, and rapidly, so that Lafe was much encouraged.
Bangs, still overhead, darted forward at a startling pace directly for
the nearest enemy plane that intuitively dodged. He swooped to the
left and engaged in the subtle, lightning-like maneuvers which so often
accompany the opposing efforts of two skilled antagonists seeking to
gain the advantage one over the other.
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