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England, George Allan, 1877-1936

"The Flying Legion"


"Smoke to southward, sir. Coming up along the Coast."
"Smoke? A steamer?"
"Can't see, sir." It was the voice of Ferrara that answered. "The
smoke is behind the long point to southward. But it is coming faster
than a merchant vessel. I should say, sir, it was a torpedo-boat or a
destroyer, under forced draft. And it's coming--it's coming at a devil
of a clip, sir!"


CHAPTER XXVIII

ONWARD TOWARD THE FORBIDDEN CITY
The Master rang for full engine-power, and threw in all six
helicopters with one swift gesture.
"Major," commanded he, as _Nissr's_ burned and wounded body began to
quiver through all its mutilated fabric; "Major, man the machine-guns
again. All stations! _Quick_!"
Bohannan departed. The droning of the helicopters rose to a shrill
hum. The Master switched in the air-pressure system; and far
underneath, white fountains of spumy water leaped up about the floats,
mingled with sand and mud all churned to frenzy under the bursting
energy of the compressed air released through thousands of tubules.
_Nissr_ trembled, hesitated, lifted a few inches, settled back once
more.
Again the buzzer sounded. The noise of rapid feet became audible
above, in the upper galleries.


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