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

"The Hosts of the Air"

He saw a road turning from the main one, and
leading deeper into the mountains. Instinctively he followed it, like an
animal seeking hiding in the wilderness, and now the machine rose fast
on the slopes, dense forest lining the way on either side. Far below in
the valley the lights and the wireless signals talked incessantly to one
another and the hounds were hot on the chase.
It was about halfway between midnight and morning when John stopped the
machine among dense pines on the very crest of a mountain, where the
road, without any reason, seemed to end. Antoine awoke with a start and,
springing out, began to curse himself under his breath for having gone
to sleep.
"Take no blame, Antoine," said John. "You could have done nothing then,
and it was much better for you to have slept. You now have back all your
strength and we may need it."
Julie awoke with a start and after a moment or two of bewilderment
understood. Then she gave John that old brilliant, flashing look,
softened now by the memory of a kiss when no hand was at the wheel.
"Julie," said John, trusting as ever in her courage, "we seem to have
come to the end of things. Our enemies are in the valley following us,
and it's not hard to trace the path of our automobile. I don't know how
many will come, but Antoine and I can make a stand with the rifles.


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