The Flying Legion by George Allan England
page 86 of 477 (18%)
page 86 of 477 (18%)
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easy-chair at _Niss'rosh_.
"That will do, Major!" he repeated. "None of your extravagance, sir! No time now for rodomontade!" He glanced swiftly round, saw Captain Alden by the dim aura of light reflected from the instrument-board. Blood reddened the captain's left sleeve. "Wounded, Captain?" "Only a scratch!" "Report to Dr. Lombardo. And have Simonds, in charge of the stores, replace this broken pane." "Yes, sir!" Alden saluted with a blood-stained hand, slipped his gun back into its holster and got up. He swayed a little, with the swinging slide of the air-liner and with the weakness that nerve-shock of a wound brings. But coolly enough he slid open the door leading into the main corridor, and passed through, closing the door after him. Where his hand touched the metal, red stains showed. Neither man of the pair now left in the pilot-house made any comments. This was all in the day's work--this and whatever else might befall. Spiraling vastly, up, up climbed the giant plane. A colder air nipped through the broken window. Cloud-wisps began to blur the glass; the stars began to burn more whitely in a blacker sky. The Master touched a button at the left side of the steering-post. |
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