arkin dived clear of the streaming bullets, zoomed upward into a half
loop and rolled into position to fire at the leading attacker. The
German was slow and Larkin poured a stream of lead into the cockpit. He
saw the pilot stiffen, as one who has received a sudden shock or
surprise, and then slump down. The plane thundered on for a moment, then
nosed down, out of control.

Ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka-ta-ka! Larkin saw tracers zipping past the nose of the
plane. He side-slipped, out of the line of fire, and glanced back. Two
more kingbirds coming to the relief of the fleeing eagle.

Ta-ka-ta-ka--the Spandaus again began their monotonous, metallic
stutter. Into the cockpit of Larkin's plane streamed a half dozen deadly
pellets. Two of them pinged against the instrument board, another passed
completely through the cockpit, just in front of his stomach. He felt
suddenly cold at the nearness of death as he zoomed steeply into a
quivering stall and slipped off into a spin.

He was conscious of the fact that both the Fokkers were thundering after
him. Then a Camel, with the speed of a thunderbolt, flashed across his
line of vision. He could see the Lewis gun quivering with little excited
jumps as it poured out lead. Good old McGee! He always turned up when
needed most.

Larkin neutralized the stick, then ruddered hard left against the spin,
and thus stopped the tail spin. Then, gaining speed by a quick dive, he
looped with a suddenness that brought the Camel squarely on the tail of
the remaining pursuer who was diving steeply. Both guns began jumping
with delight as Larkin thumbed the releases. What luck! Square in the
ring sight! The telltale tracers poked their white fingers into the
vitals of the Fokker tri-plane. A serpent-like tongue of red licked out,
fluttering for a moment like a wind blown candle flame, and then leaped
afresh in an enveloping burst of flame and smoke.

Two!

He glanced around. McGee was in a merry game with the other kingbird.
Round and round they plunged in steep spirals, each trying to get a
glimpse of the other across the sights. A tight, breath-taking game, but
one which cannot last long. The circle becomes too small, the pace too
swift. It was a game in which, Larkin knew, the tri-plane Fokker could
excel the Camel, granting that the pilots were of equal skill.

Larkin jockeyed for position, but in that moment when his eye was taken
from the mad game of ring-around-the-rosy, McGee demonstrated that