"I see the move," thought Barcroft. "He's luring Fritz towards us."
The two seaplanes passed one another at less than a hundred yards. Fuller raised his arm by way of greeting as they swept by. As he did so shreds of canvas flew from the lower plane, and dipping abruptly the crippled machine dropped, lurching hideously as it did so.
Almost simultaneously the Hun pilot of the Fokker collapsed across the decking of the fuselage. The machine, no longer under control, swayed through a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile, and then, tilting obliquely, began a terrific tail spin that ended in a jumble of wreckage on the unsympathetic soil of Belgium.
"Now for the double bus," muttered Billy. "The Huns will pay dearly for strafing poor old John."
But the remaining aeroplane of the two had h
