ith the nerve to storm through the
night sky in pursuit.

So, as McGee climbed he realized that he was facing the unknown. The
prospect of a raid had been his challenge; the size and strength of his
enemy was unknown. So be it, he thought, and warmed his guns with a
short burst as he continued climbing. Their quick chatter served to
reassure him and for the moment he quite forgot how useless they would
be should he chance to go crashing into one of the bombers. He felt that
all would be well if only those saps on the ground would cut that
searchlight. Didn't they know that it would simply serve as a guide to
the plane whose mission it would be to dive at the field and release
ground flares to mark the target for the bombers? Of course they
wouldn't think of that. Green! And with a lot to learn.

Two or three times the beam of light flashed perilously near him, and
once his plane was near enough to the edge of the beam for the glass on
his instrument board to reflect the rays. Then, a moment later, the
glaring one-eyed monster dimmed, glowed red, and darkness leaped in from
all sides. But only for a moment. Other lights, from more distant
points, were still combing the sky. These concerned Red not so much as
the one near the hangar. Strangely, as is the way with men at war, he
cared not so much what wrath might be called down on other places if
only his own nest remained unviolated. Indeed, he found himself
entertaining the hope that the raiders might become confused and drop
their trophies in somebody else's back yard.

Then, as suddenly as a magician produces an object out of the thin air,
one of the distant searchlights fixed upon one of the enemy planes. It
was a single seater, McGee noted, and though somewhat southeast of the
position he had expected, it was already pointing its nose down on a
long dive that would undoubtedly carry it to a good position over the
'drome for dropping flares.

McGee knew the tactics. This was the plane whose job it was to spot the
target for the bombers and then zoom away. Then the vultures would come
droning over the illuminated field and drop their eggs.

Red kicked his left rudder and came around on a sharp climbing bank. By
skill, or by luck, the light crew still held their beam on the
black-crossed plane and in a twinkling two other lights were centered on
it.

McGee made a quick estimate of distance and of the other's flying speed.
Then he nosed over, slightly, on a full t