Immediately he heard the dull report of a gun from below. He dared not
bend his head to look, since all his attention was needed to take care
of his machine at such a critical moment. But the whine of the bullet
as it passed close by was very plainly heard.
Then came other shots, many of them, and the air seemed full of strange
hissing sounds. Twice Frank felt a slight shock that told him some part
of the aeroplane had been struck by one of the flying missiles. His
heart seemed to jump almost into his mouth, as he trembled for the
result. But nothing happened. The motor kept up its insistent humming,
and there was not a quiver to indicate that a vital part of the
monoplane had been injured.
"Andy, are you hurt?" he called, after the volley had ceased, the
marksmen below having evidently exhausted their ammunition.
"Only a scratch," came the reply. "Hardly drew blood. Think a splinter
from the wood where a spent bullet zipped past must have hit me. It's
all right, Frank! We ran the gantlet just fine. But all the same I guess
it would be better for us to keep a little higher after this."
"Did you make them out and were they government troops, do you think?"
Frank asked, for though he managed to turn his head, already had they
made such speed that only the interminable forest could be seen in their
rear.
"No," returned his comrade.
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