nd dive and swerve and swerve, John, so be ready. I'll
signal to Caumartin to do the same, and maybe the machine gun won't get
us."

John was quite sure that the _Arrow_ could escape by immediate flight,
but he knew that Lannes would never desert the _Omnibus_, and its
passengers, and he felt the same way. The subject was not even mentioned
by either.

The German machines, approaching rapidly, spread out like a fan, the
heavier one with the machine gun in the center. John could see the man
at the rapid firer, but he did not yet open with it. The _Arrow_ and the
_Omnibus_ were wavering like feathers in a storm and closer range was
needed. John sat with his own rifle across his knee and then looked at
Wharton in the _Omnibus_ scarcely a hundred yards away. The figure of
Wharton was tense and rigid. His rifle was raised and his eyes never
left the man at the machine gun.

"I forgot to tell you, Philip," said John, "that Wharton is a great
sharpshooter. It's natural to him, and I don't believe the shifting
platform will interfere with his aim."

"Then I hope that he never has done better sharp-shooting than he will
do today. Ah, there goes the machine gun!"

There was a rapid rat-a-tat, not so clear and distinct as it would have
been at the same distance on ground, and a stream of bullets poured from
the machine gun. But they passed between the _Arrow_ and the _Omnibus_,
and only cut the unoffending air. Meanwhile Wharton was watching. A
wrath, cold but consuming, had taken hold of him. The fact that he was
high above the earth, perched in a swaying unstable seat was forgotten.
He had eyes and thought only for the murderous machine gun and the man
who worked it. An instinctive marksman, he and his rifle were now as
one, and of all the birds of prey in the air at that moment Wharton was
the most dangerous.

The machine gun was silent for a minute. The riflemen in the Taubes on
the wings of the attacking force fired a few shots, but all of them went
wild. John, tense and silent, sat with his own rifle raised, but half of
the time he watched Wharton.

The two forces came a little nearer. Again the machine gun poured forth
its stream of bullets. Two glanced off the sides of the _Omnibus_, and
then John saw Wharton's rifle leap to his shoulder. The movement and the
flash of the weapon were so near together that be seemed to take no aim.
Yet his bullet sped true. The man at the machine gun, who was standing
in a stooped