pe,
circled, circled, reaching for altitude before they could get over to
him and make another pass. He snapped bitterly, "Did I say something
about poor old Bob Flaubert not having a gun, while I did? Well, poor
old Bob's obviously got at least as much fire power as we have.
Freddy, I'm afraid matters have pickled."

The other was startled.

"Do I have to draw a picture?" Joe said. "Look." He pointed to where
the other two crafts circled, possibly a hundred meters above and five
hundred to the right of them. The other two gliders bore a single
passenger apiece, and were seemingly moving as quietly as were Joe and
Freddy, but gliders in motion are deceptive. Joe shot a glance at his
rate of climb indicator. He was doing all right at six meters per
second, a thousand feet a minute, considering his weight.

Freddy had at last awakened to the fact that they were in combat and
even that the enemy had drawn first blood. The wound taken in their
wing was not serious, from Joe's viewpoint, but the torn holes in the
fabric were obvious. But the little man had not gained his intrepid
reputation as a Telly cameraman without cause. He moved fast, both to
get the small French machine gun into Joe's hands and to get himself
into action as a cameraman.

He snapped, "What's the situation?"

Joe, circling, circling, praying the updraft wouldn't give out on him
before it did on the others, on their opposite hill, said, "We weigh
too much. Altitude counts. What've you got back there that can be
thrown out?" As he talked, he was shrugging himself out of his leather
flying jacket.

"Nothing," Freddy said in anguish. "I cut down my equipment to the
barest, like you said."

"You've got extra lenses and stuff, out with them." Joe tossed his
coat over the glider's side, began unlacing his shoes. "And all your
clothes. Clothes are heavy."

"I need my equipment to get long-range shots, like when one of them
crashes!" The little man was scanning the others through his
view-finder, even as he argued, and shrugging out of his own jacket.

The updraft gave out and the rate of climb meter began to register a
drop. Joe swore and shot a glance at his opponents. Happily, they,
too, had lost their currents, both were now heading for him.

Joe clipped out to his companion. "We're not going to be getting shots
of them crashing, unless we lose more weight. Overboard with
everything you can possibly afford, Freddy. That's an order."

There was