“He’s gaining pretty fast.  Although he keeps below us, it looks as if he wanted to communicate with us.”

The second aeroplane suddenly shot forward and upward at a much greater rate of speed.  John, still watching through his glasses, saw the man release the steering rudder for an instant, snatch a rifle from the floor of his plane, and fire directly at Lannes.

John uttered a shout of anger, and in action, too, he was as quick as a flash.  His automatic was out at once and he rained bullets upon the treacherous machine.  It was hard to take aim, firing from one flying target, at another, but he saw the man flinch, turn suddenly, and then go rocketing away at a sharp angle.

Blazing with wrath John watched him, now far out of range, and then reloaded his automatic.

“Did you get him, John?” asked Lannes.

“I know one bullet found him, because I saw him shiver and shrink, but it couldn’t have been mortal, as he was able to fly away.”

“I’m glad that you at least hit him, because he hit me.”

“What!” exclaimed John.  Then he looked at his comrade and saw to his intense horror that black blood was flowing slowly down a face deadly pale.

“His bullet went through my cap and then through my head,” said Lannes.  “Oh, not through my skull, or I wouldn’t be talking to you now.  I think it glanced off the bone, as I know it’s gone out on the other side.  But I’m losing much blood, John, and I seem to be growing numb.”

His voice trailed off in weakness and the Arrow began to move in an eccentric manner.  John saw that Lannes’ hand on the rudder was uncertain and that he had been hard hit.  He was aghast, first for his friend, to whom he had become so strongly attached, and then for the Arrow, their mission and himself.  Lannes would soon become unconscious and he, no flying man at all, would be left high in air with a terrible weight of responsibility.

“We must change seats,” said Lannes, struggling against the dimness that was coming over his eyes and the weakness permeating his whole body.  “Be careful, Oh, be careful as you can, and then, in your American language, a lot more.  Slowly!  Slowly!  Yes, I can move alone.  Drag yourself over me, and I can slide under you.  Careful!  Careful!”

The Arrow fluttered like a wounded bird, dropping, darting upward, and careering to one side.  John was sick to his soul, both physically and mentally.  His head became giddy and the wind roared in his ears, but the exchange of seats was at last, successfully accomplished.

“Now,” said Lannes, “you’re a close observer.  Remember all that you’ve seen me do with the plane.  Resolve to yourself that you do know how to fly the Arrow.  Fear nothing and fly straight for our destination.  Don’t bother about the bleeding of my wound.  My thick hair and thick cap acting together as a heavy bandage will stop it.  Now, John, our fate rests with you.”