"Be ready to use the gun, Jack!" yelled the pilot. "When I give the sign fire at his rear tires if you can. That man has what we want, and we've just got to take it from him. Understand?"
"Sure!" shouted Jack, changing his position in order to be ready to carry out his orders.
The car was bouncing along the road at a mad rate, but this seemed nothing in comparison with the speed with which the plane came on. Tom slowed up when he believed they were close enough. He left the rest to his comrade, knowing full well that Jack had shown considerable proficiency in using the rapid-fire gun when they were training at the French military field, and while engaging that Boche pilot more recently.
It was not an easy target—that moving car, plunging from side to side of the winding road, partly through accident, or it might be from fear on the part of the driver that he was about to be bombarded.
Keeping his gun low enough not to spatter the upper part of the car, Jack fired. With the "chatter" of the gun the bullets commenced to splash like hail around the rear tires of the speeding car. Jack kept shooting low. He was in deadly fear lest by some mischance he puncture the petrol tank of the automobile. And
