Air Stories, April 1936 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

WINGED WARRIORS suddenly pulled himself together, realis- ing that he was wasting valuable time. He shut off his engine, and glided down, keeping close to the scout. His five companions flew round in circles over his head, watching. With a new con- centration, Warton stared at the ground, studying its every feature, rejected one landing-place on account of its approach, another on account of its surface, a third because of its proximity to a main road. ARTON leant far out over the _side of his machine, turning these different points over in his mind, until he had selected a suitable field, registered the direction of the wind, and mentally prepared every turn of his approach. He tested his engine in order to keep it warm, and dived below the scout so as to gain the lead. In the back seat, Lastor, humming softly to himself, selected a double drum of ammunition for his gun, and swung the mounting, before he settled down to watch Warton negotiate his landing. Not a sign of life could be seen on the earth. Warton had chosen a big square of yellow stubble where the corn had been cut. Using his engine to bring him in low down over the stream, he flew towards the stubble. He throttled back and played gently with the joy-stick as the ground streamed past close under- neath his wings. The shock-absorber on his wheels grunted once; then the machine rolled itself to a standstill. Warton, who had been holding his breath for thirty seconds past, gave vent to a long sigh of relief. He had landed safely in Hunland, and thus accomplished the first part of his adventure. All that now remained was for the scout to land, its pilot to jump into his machine, and then for all three of them to fly away together. He had taken three up before and had no fear that his engine would fail him. Immediately after landing, he had taxied his machine into a corner of the square and swung it into the wind, ready to take-off immediately. Less than a thousand feet up now, the scout was side-slipping away his height and measuring his distance to the open patch. Warton fingered the chin-strap of his helmet, and glanced at the watch —six-thirty. It was barely four minutes ago that he had seen the white signal light, yet he could have sworn it was half an hour. He turned round to mention this fact to Lastor, but dis- covered him with one hand on the gun staring fixedly at a number of minute figures that were running towards them along the track through the corn. ‘‘ Huns !’’ said Lastor simply, and gave the magazine on his Lewis gun a pat. Warton said nothing, but opened the throttle of his engine a trifle, and anxiously watched the little scout, now only a few feet from the ground, and floating along the stubble towards the corn. ‘‘He’s going to overshoot ! ’’ shrieked Warton, suddenly jumping up in his seat. ‘‘Oh! The fool! The fool! There he goes! Bang into the corn |”? As he spoke, the scout, which had allowed rather too much height for the approach, was caught by the tough stems which wrapped _ themselves round its wings and undercarriage. The machine stood up on its nose, shattering the propeller, crashed over suddenly on to its back, and burst into flames. At once Warton’s anger was turned to solicitude. He jumped out and ran towards the blazing wreck, calling to Lastor the while; but the rattle of Lastor’s machine-gun was the only answer he received. The scout pilot was pinned by both legs under the petrol tank. His clothes were burning on his body, and he lay beating the grass with his hands, scream- ing incoherently. Warton plunged into the mass of burning petrol and strained at the broken wood, whose weight was holding the man down. Little tongues of flame caught at his face, peeling off the skin. Repeatedly he had to stagger back and beat his smouldering leather coat. Large beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and he gasped for 325 breath. An indescribable stench filled the air. Bit by bit, as the weight was cComiclbooks.com