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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


Yet--what now? He's turning tail, eh? He's on the run?"
"Not a bit of it! He's driving straight ahead. That was only a dip and
turn, for better air. Ah, but he's good, that fellow! There's a man
after my own heart, Major. Maybe there's more than one, aboard that
plane. But there's one, anyhow, that's a real man!"
The Master pondered a moment, then again picked up the phone.
"Enemark?" he called. "That you?"
"Hello! Yes, sir! What orders, sir?"
"Cut off the ray! Quick, there!"
"Yes, sir!" And through the phone the Master heard the _snick_ of a
switch being hastily thrown.
"What's the idea, now?" demanded the major, astonished. "Going to let
that plane close in on us, and maybe riddle us?"
The Master smiled, as he made answer:
"I'll chance the bullets, this time. There's a _man_ on board that
plane. A _man_! And we--need men!"
The Master smiled, as he made answer:
"I'll chance the bullets, this time. There's a man on board that
plane. A man! And we--need men!"


CHAPTER XVI

LECLAIR, ACE OF FRANCE
Swooping, rising, falling like a falcon in swift search of quarry, the
last plane of the Azores squadron swept in toward the on-rushing Eagle
of the Sky.


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