Jacklas of the Clouds

Auckland Star, Volume LXVII, Issue 247, 17 October 1936, Page 56 (Supplement)

Jacklas of the Clouds

CHAPTER XXXIV. Below Eric two red machines and two black—all that now remained— were fighting desperately. And as the boy -whipped forward his control stick to thunder down to the aid of his comrades, one of the black pirates fell away into- a spin. A tongue of flame lieked back from the riven petrol tank, spread with terrible rapidity and the machine plunged, a blazing mass, into the clouds. The pilot of the remaining black scout threw his machine into a spin in an effort to reach the cover of the clouds. But, before he reached them he was limp aeroes his controls, shot through the back. Then, alone above the clouds, the pilots of those three red scouts pushed forward their control sticks and dived down through the clouds to land on a bleak and rocky plateau far below. Of those three survivprs of Lauvignac's squadron, Vorsatz wa6 first to land. Weakly he ,clambered from his cockpit and, leaning against the fuselage, watched his two companions make their landing. He ■ saw Eric raise his goggles and draw off his gloves and knew the boy was all right. But the third pilpt was sitting motionless in his seat, his head lolling on his chest. Lurchingly, Vorsatz ran towards him and, swinging himself weakly up to the cockpit, slipped his arm round the man's shoulders. "Rene!" he cried, hoarsely. "Are you wounded?" With shaking fingers he fumbled at the fastenings • of helmet and goggles and drew them off. Then slowly Rene Lauvignac raised. his head. He was deathly pale, but in his eyes, as he turned his face towards Vorsatz, there lurked the faint shadow of brave laughter. "We beat him—Vorsatz," he whispered, haltingly. "Beat him —as I knew we could—in fair fight!" "Rene, don't talk, man!" cried Vorsatz. "See, let me dress your wound!" Lauvignac shook his head. "No—l am dying!" he whispered. "Shot—through here!" He raised trembling hand to the breast of his ffying coat. "You —you are safe, old friend"— the halting whispering voice went on—"And the boy—is he —" "He's safe, Rene!" "I'm glad—of that!" —the faltering voice was scarce audible now—"We have had good times—you and I, Vorsatz, and our comrades. But it is over now. The end of the trail— and I die in the cockpit—"

By GEORGE ROCHESTER.

He groped upwards with his hand. Dumbly Vorsatz took it in his grasp. He could not speak. Then slowly Lauvignac's head dropped forward on his chest and the hand his comrade held grew limp. Vorsatz released his grip. Stooping, he kissed his dead leader on the brow and, dropping to the ground, turned to confront Eric. The question 011 the boy's lips was never uttered. For he read his answer in Vorsatz's face. On the following day when afternoon was drawing to a close and dusk was creeping in over Phantom Aerodrome, Captain Eric Howard, in full flying kit, stood by his machine talking earnestly with Vorsatz. "Much of the bullion which Schaumvorge took from your machines is in our caves, as you know," said Vorsatz. "It will be here for the British authorities to collect. "I know," replied Eric, "and it is entirely due to you and your comrades. Come with me, Vorsatz," he ■went on. "There'll be a great job waiting for you on the British air routes!" The grim face of Vorsatz softened for a moment, but he shook his head. "No, Howard," he replied, "I follow the trail of adventure to the end. It will be a lonely trail for me now. But sometimes, lad, think o' those who have died—those whom you called comrades—and when you do, then think not of them too ill!" "I'll never forget you —none of you!" cried the boy. "Won't you come with me, Vorsatz?" But Vorsatz shook his head, holding out his hand. "Good-bye, Howard!" he said. "Good-bye, Vorsatz!" And when the noise of Eric's engine had died away in the darkening sky as he headed south-west-wards towards India, Vorsatz turned and walked slowly towards the silent and deserted living quarters. Long moments passed and he sat in the ante-room, immobile, alone with his thoughts—alone on that desolate aerodrome. At length he stirred, pushing back his chair. Rising to his feet, he raised his hand and whispered: "My comrades, I salute you!" Then, without backward glance, he strode out on to the darkened aerodrome and swung himself up to tiie cockpit of his machine. The silence was broken by the shattering roar of his engine. He took off, heading northwards into the night sky. And as the pulsating beat of his engine died slowly away in the distance, the eternal silence of the lonely hills enfolded Phantom Aerodrome. THE END.