Bill Barnes Air Adventurer, July 1935 — page 80: what you’re looking at

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

78 BILL BARNES the two gray fighters from touching him. He was dodging their bullets while he maneuvered to get them under his guns. Red Gleason’s teeth were clenched now. He was giving everything he had to get the man with the hideously scarred face who was piloting the enemy ship. None of his tricks seemed to click. The other pilot escaped from every trap he laid for him. He seemed to bear a charmed life. Then it suddenly came to Red that the other man was a master craftsman. He was slipping away from Red’s vicious attacks with the ease of an artist. For a moment Red almost lost control of himself. His lips became a hard, set line of determination. His red hair fairly burned beneath his helmet. He used all his powers of concentration as he realized the enemy pilot was luring him closer and closer to the ground and into the range of the machine guns in the fort. He saw Bill Barnes send a hail of lead into one of the planes below him. He saw the plane burst into flame and careen drunkenly toward the earth. He saw the other plane turn tail and scoot toward the protection of the hangar. All those things, he saw. And he heard Bill’s voice in his ear over the: radio- phone. He heard Bill order him to fol- low Sandy. But he couldn’t obey. The only thing that really penetrated his consciousness was the enemy before him who seemed to be laughing at his attempts to shoot him down. The man’s skill was un- canny. A dozen times Red thought he had him in a position from which there was no escape. But when he clamped down on his firing trips the plane dis- appeared from under his sights as though some unseen hand had flicked it out of danger. Perhaps, he thought, this is the man Shorty spoke about. The man who killed his friend Wyndam. Who almost killed Shorty. Perhaps he had killed him now. The thought brought. back Red’s sanity. He realized that in his in- tensity he was doing the very thing he had taught other men not to do. He _was “‘freezing on his controls.” He was trying too hard. The next time the gray biplane flashed across his sights he kicked his rudder ever so little as his fingers gripped hard on his gun trips. The nose of his Snorter followed the course of the gray plane for a split fraction of a second. Red’s bullets wove a pattern from the engine housing to the tail structure. The gray fighter skidded off danger- ously on one wing and yawed wildly. Red whipped the Snorter over and re- turned to the attack. His breath was coming in short gasps now. He poured round after round toward the other plane as it dove for the earth below. Red felt his Snorter tremble and buck as it was struck by machine-gun fire from the ground. He pulled back on his stick and zoomed upward. He ground his teeth as he saw dust rise from the earth when the gray plane struck the ground at a steep angle, nearly nosing over. But it didn’t nose over. The pilot fishtailed the rear skid around in some way and came to a halt. The pilot stepped over the side and dropped to the ground as Red opened the throttle of the Snorter wide and roared away after Bill. Red could not help one more glance backward. His whole body steamed with rage as he saw the pilot walking away from his plane, unhurt. It was too much for Red. He didn’t even know that anti-aircraft shells bursting near by and machine-gun bul- lets were tearing through his already perforated wings. It was more than his pride could stand. “Tl be back after you, tough guy,” he ground out between clenched teeth. oO COLA) Ghook were . (C©@