He saw that the five remaining planes of the column Shorty had singled out they were forming a Lufberry circle around him. They were trying to tighten it up to get Shorty within the vortex of their concentrated fire. He smiled grimly as he saw Shorty whip his Snorter directly into the guns of one of them. But Shorty's bullets were writing death across the face of the enemy pilot before he could clamp down on his triggers. The plane fluttered out of the fight toward the earth below.
Bill kicked the Lancer around and picked off another of the four ships circling Shorty. He saw Shorty's hand come over his head with his thumbs sticking up.
Within a space of three minutes time they had shot six of the one-seaters out of the air. The other six were forming in two V formations of three each now. The leader was giving orders with tail wags and hand signals. They were spiraling up, seeming reluctant to return to the attack.
For an instant Bill studied the leader while he flipped his radio key. Then his gaze whipped toward the direction of Ma'an as the drone of twin-motored bombers came to his ears.
His face froze as he saw a route column of six giant bombers speeding toward him. Above the bombers was a squadron of eighteen British planes, identical to the ships he and Shorty had been fighting.
“Shorty!” he screamed into his microphone. “I'm going to land on Umm el Biyara again. You'll have to clear the way for me. Those bombers will go to work on the place. They don't know Sandy is spread-eagled out on the top. Attack those machine guns and ground guns while I land and get him!”
“You'll never get down, Bill!” Shorty shouted. “You can't use your guns. They'll tear you apart!”
“You'll have to hold them off,” Bill said. “Rake the south side with your guns
Bill sat the Lancer down on the top of Umm el Biyara again in the face of that deadly concentrated fire. But it did not last for long.
Flying almost in the mouth of the machine guns on the ground, Shorty tore their crews to ribbons. Dead men piled up at the mouths of the entrances to the underground caverns. He stilled every gun while Bill brought his ship around and rolled across the plateau toward sandy.
Then he was over the side in two jumps, tearing at the pegs that held the helpless Sandy.
“You all right, kid?” he asked, his breath coming in quick gasps.
“Just a little dented around the edges, Bill.” Sandy managed to grin. “They — they —” His eyes closed as his head lolled back, and Bill knew that he had fainted.
Bill struggled desperately as he saw the big bombers nosing down to drop their horrible eggs. Then he had Sandy over his shoulder. He struggled up the side of the Lancer and dropped Sandy in the rear cockpit.
Half the world exploded beyond the far rim of Umm el Biyara as he gave the engines of the Lancer the gun. He raced the powerful ship across the plateau and dived it off the edge. For one horrible moment he could not bring the nose up. Down and down they plunged. Then his controls caught and he eased the stick back.
As he spiraled upward the whole world seemed to explode. The top of Umm el Biyara became a shambles as the six bombers, in route column, laid their eggs.
Bill leveled off at five thousand feet with Shorty beside him. Far off to the west he saw the eighteen British planes in pursuit of the six enemy ships. He locked his controls and spoke to Shorty.
“Sandy's out cold,” he said.
“Is he badly hurt, Bill?” Shorty asked, his words clipped and anxious.
“He'll do,” Bill said. “I'm going to sit down on the airport at Ma'an. Our job is finished.”
THAT same evening, Wing Commander Kestrel, Bill Barnes, Shorty and Sandy sat in Kestrel's quarters. Away to the east the desert wind was moaning again. Now and again a camel bellowed a protest at the desert night.
“You've helped break the back of the revolt at the very beginning,” Kestrel said. “Serj el Said, the Arab leader, is dead. Four of our men paid the cost for treason, Hector by his own hand. The bribe offered them must have been high. It is hard to admit but true that a few scattered men in any country may become traitors. Most of the civilian fliers working for Serj el Said are dead. If we could only bring poor Douglas back I would be satisfied.”
They sat silent for a moment, listening to the soft sighing of the wind.
“If there is anything, any way I can show my gratitude to you, Barnes, anything I can do for you, I—-”
“Listen,” Sandy broke in, trying to grin through his bandages. “There is something you can do for me!”
“Name it, Sandy,” Kestrel said. “Get me an Arabian horse and ship it to Barnes Field,” Sandy said eagerly. “You killed mine when you bombed Umm el Biyara.”
“That's an order,” Kestrel said, “that will be carried out.”
“What in the world,” Bill asked, “will you do with a horse?”
“Do with him?” Sandy said. “What do you think I'll do with him? I'm going to use him to realize one of the ambitions of my life. I'm going to win the Kentucky Derby!”
