Air Stories, April 1936 — page 40: what you’re looking at

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

AIR STORIES raised, the man on the ground pulled himself free, until finally he rolled away and lay motionless and silent. Choked and half-blinded by the smoke, Warton groped his way to the shapeless bundle, one of whose charred flying-boots was still glowing by the wreckage. The heat of the body as he hoisted it on to his shoulder scorched him, and the indescrib- able smell followed him as he staggered back to his machine. Lastor’s face was covered with blood, and one arm hung limp by his side. Several rents gaped in the fabric, and the cowling was bullet-splashed. With infinite relief, Warton noticed that the engine was still running. ‘‘ Here, Lasts !’’ he gasped. ‘‘ Haul this man up quick and let’s get away ! Oh, let’s get away ! For God’s sake, Jet’s get away !”’ “All right, man! All answered Lastor’s calm voice. ‘* Don’t get nervy. There; that’s right now. I’ve got his shoulders. Push him up by his feet. Oh! Sorry, old man ! I didn’t notice. I’ve been having no end of a scrap with a bunch of Huns who are lying down over there in the corn. I couldn’t come and help you, or they’d have nabbed the pair of us. As it is, they daren’t poke their heads up. Ali right; I’ve got him in now. Nip up into your seat, and we’ll show these devils a Oh !—Warts ! ’’ The last words accompanied the sound of a rifle shot fired from the neighbouring corn. Lastor, who had been kneeling on the fuselage helping to settle the injured man in his seat, lurched back- wards, swaying ; then, as another report rang out, crashed headlong from the machine on to the ground. Unbelieving, Warton right | ”’ knelt down Le No. In Next Month’s AIR STORIES el] al THE END 8 cca ee STARTING NEXT MONTH A Great New Series of Modern Air Mystery Stories By Captain J. E. GURDON, D.F.C. The Brilliant Author of «‘ Winged Warriors ”” I—THE LOOP OF DEATH beside him. Both bullets had _ got home ; the first through the body, the second in the head. Warton lifted the head between his hands, and stared at it, with his lips open. He let it fall again, and rose to his feet with one exclamation : ‘‘ Explosive bullet ! ’’ Wearily he climbed up to his seat. Bullets flew whining past him, but he never heard them. For a few seconds he sat staring at Lastor’s body. Then he pushed the throttle lever forward, and the machine skimmed roaring over the stubble into the air. Twice he circled the field on which lay the charred remains of an aeroplane and a small black speck. Then he flew into the darkening west, unheeding the passage of time until a rocket, trembling and twinkling through the mist below, drew him down on to his home aerodrome. When they lifted the scout pilot from the back seat of his machine the body was already stiff and cold. IX nights later, the Major gave a dinner to celebrate the award of a second bar to Warton’s M.C., and the occasion of his return to England on -the following day. When the men had finished singing, ‘‘For he’s a _ jolly good fellow,’’ Warton was no longer in the mess. He crossed the road to the hangars, and crept into the one where his machine stood. The canvas flapped and the ropes creaked. Through an opening near the roof shone a clear, starlit sky, in whose light the propeller and wings of the aeroplane glowed faintly. For a long time Warton stood staring at the powerful, eager shape. Then, slowly, he turned his back on it, and stumbled through the darkness to his tent. TT On Sale April 10th =| re 325 COnmnicloo SJ (SO)