hrottle, and drove along a line
which he thought would intersect the dive of the enemy. He could hardly
hope to get him in the ring sights; it was a matter of pointing the
plane in what he thought was the correct line of fire and let drive with
both guns.

The wind was beginning to scream and tear at the struts of the
hard-pushed Camel. Speed was everything now. If that diving German plane
once dropped its flares, the others, somewhere in the darkness above,
would sow destruction on the field.

The distance was yet too great for anything like effective fire, but
McGee decided to take a chance. After all, the whole thing was chance.
He had one chance in a thousand to thwart their plans, very slim chances
for bagging one of them, and some excellent chances to get bagged!

"Very well," he found himself saying in answer to these swift thoughts.
"Carry on!"

Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat! Both his guns began their scolding chatter. Too far
to the right--and below. He ruddered left and pulled her nose up a
trifle. There! Again the guns spewed out their vengeful chorus.

At this second burst the German plane seemed to yaw off, then righted
itself, leveled off and flew straight at McGee.

Red felt a momentary elation that the enemy had at least been made
conscious of the attack and was, for the moment, forced to abandon his
objective. Two beams of light still held him mercilessly. Doubtless they
served to blind him and this advantaged McGee who, unseen in the
darkness, kept his Vickers going. Some of the bullets must have gone
home for the German swerved suddenly and began a series of acrobatics in
an effort to escape the lights. But disturbed as he was, he evidently
kept his mission in mind for he continued to lose altitude and thus draw
nearer the field where he could drop his flares.

McGee decided to nose over and then zoom up under his belly--by far the
most vulnerable point of attack but one in which the moment of fire is
brief indeed, for Camels will not long hang by their "props."

Just as McGee dived the enemy swerved quickly and also began a dive. His
diving angle was sharp; his speed tremendous. Doubtless he had
determined to carry out his mission and get away from an exceedingly hot
spot as quickly as possible. By the fortunes of war his diving angle cut
directly across McGee's path. Close--almost too close! A brief burst
spat from McGee's Vickers in that heart-chilling moment when collision
seemed inevitable, but Mc