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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"The Hosts of the Air"


"It's agreed."
The Alsatian now led the way in his light machine, and the limousine
followed at an interval of fifty or sixty yards. One hour, then two and
three passed, and nothing came in the way of their easy and rapid
progress. It all seemed too smooth and fortunate to John. It was
incredible that they could travel thus great distances through Austria,
the land of the enemy. He knew that chance had a way of finding a
balance, and violent and fierce events might be before them.
But as he drove on he scanned the heavens now and then with a questing
eye. It had not occurred to him until Weber spoke that all of them might
escape through the air. Lannes would trail them, not on the earth, but
through mists and clouds. He would come, too, with friends almost as
daring and skillful as himself, perhaps with Caumartin and the two,
Castelneau and Mery, who had responded to the thrilling signal near
Salzburg, when he took his first flight. His blood leaped and danced,
and once more his eyes roved over the blue in search of the _Arrow._
They came to Obenstein a little before dusk. It was a tiny village,
almost hidden in a recess of the mountain, with a shaggy pine forest
rising above it and casting its shadow over the houses. But there was a
small, neat inn, and a garage for the machines, and the guests were
received with the same hospitality that had been shown at Tellnitz.


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