Adventure, July 1, 1928 — page 43: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE DUKE AND THE DUCATS 37 What he had thought might happen did. Those frightened horses were now a group of crazed bucking broncos, out of control, as the ship flashed toward them. One rider was on the ground. The rest of them to a man were fighting their horses. And as Daly zoomed up over them he saw Tex MacDowell, with the skill born of his ranch boyhood, guide his maddened pony northward like a frightened rabbit. He had a hundred yard start—no more than that. Suddenly Daly was aware of the fact that the DH was stalling. He pushed forward on the stick as the motor sputtered and died. It always died, momentarily, in an extreme stall. But as he got the ship into a dive to regain flying speed it did not catch again. The next second blue flame was playing over the motor. The gas line had broken, flooding the hot Liberty. A bullet had weakened it, doubtlessly; but he was afire, six hundred feet in the air. Somehow it seemed unimportant. He got the ship into a sideslip as a wave of heat blistered him. His right wing, which was pointed upward in the slip, was al- ready being eaten by flames. For the moment he was not too uncomfortable as the flames blew upward and away from him. His eyes were on the ground. He had to hold his goggles to keep the ter- rific airstream, coming upward at him as a result of the slip, from tearing them off. HERE was Tex, going like mad for the mesquite. One lone rider was after him, and gaining. The others were huddled near the river, apparently unwilling to separate themselves from their nearness to Mexico and safety. If there was left im Duke Daly any trace of selfishness or fear or dross of any kind, it was burned away during that moment when he hung beneath a tran- quil night sky in his flaming De Haviland. The second he pointed its nose down the draft would blow the fire back on him, and the fuselage would turn into a flaming ‘ coffin. By sideslipping to the ground, he had a chance for life. Down below, the man whose place could never be taken in the life of Duke Daly was fleeing for his life, and losing. The DH was three hundred feet high, losing altitude steadily. There was a curious look in Daly’s eyes as he took a deep breath of the last pure air he would ever breathe. Pain was gone from them and shadows had lifted, and it was as if he were seeing visions as he brought the ship’s nose down and started the last dive. In a split second his eyes were burning and his clothes charring. Heat rolled over him in a sickening wave. His bleary eyes never wavered, however, and pain was non-existent. He did not breathe. He would not fill his lungs with smoke and fire yet. He had his bead. Dazed, his head reeling, he sent a hail of death down on the pursuing bandit, and not until the bandit had toppled from his horse did Daly’s hand leave the gun control. Fifty feet from the ground. Now his body was a torturing shell. He was groaning as he lifted the ship in a side- slip. He gulped in air as he rammed the bomber downward with top rudder. He unloosened his belt. Perhaps he would be thrown clear of the fire— _ There was a crash, and he felt himself hurtling through theair. The next second his brain became a ball of fire which was extinguished in an instant and there was no more pain. E DID not know it, but Tex had doubled back as his pursuer had fallen from his horse,and his hands had beat out the slowly burning spots in Daly’s clothing. ‘Ten minutes later a Laredo ship had arrived, and carried him back to the hospital. It was there he found himself, next morning, thoroughly bandaged and listless from the effects of opiates. Scarcely had he opened his eyes when the nurse came in, followed by Mac- Dowell. The big Texan was unshaven, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, and as dirty as a roustabout, but the old grin comicloooks.com