“By George, I’ll make a good try!” he cried, his pulse beginning to tingle anew.
The Nieuport was now almost upon the huge, unwieldy monster, and Don could plainly see the details on its smooth and shining surface.
The balloon, anchored to a heavy motor tractor, swayed gently from side to side as the cable to which it was attached was drawn down by a windlass. Dozens of men, too, were aiding in its descent by pulling on smaller ropes.
A touch on the control stick sent the Nieuport climbing upward. Then, precisely at the proper moment, Don Hale put an end to the ascending flight, and turning the nose of the machine downward, he shut off the engine and dove straight for the great gas bag.
He had a vision of soldiers scattering in every direction—and they ran like men who were seized with all the mad and unreasoning panic of animals fleeing before a forest fire. There was something ludicrous—almost absurd—in the picture they made which, even in that intensely dramatic moment, involuntarily brought a half smile to the face of the stern, grim-visaged boy in the pilot’s seat.
Don Hale knew that he was running a most appalling risk—indeed tempting fate in a way he had never done before, and staking his life upon his ability to make a success of his daring venture.
The instant for action had come. His machine was pointed directly toward the slick, rounded surface of the balloon.
Don pushed a button, and by this action fired the eight rockets fastened to the sides of the fuselage.
Instantly there came a resounding, awesome roar, and eight fiery trails, each headed by a brilliant greenish light, were flashing toward the balloon.
Before the pilot could come out of his dive several of the rockets pierced the silken envelope, and from as many points there came vivid bursts of flame—the days of usefulness of that particular “sausage” were certainly over.
Elation was in Don Hale’s heart. And then, just as he redressed[9] the machine, he caught a quick glimpse of a mighty burst of flame, which, enveloping the balloon from end to end, rose in ruddy viciously-curling and leaping tongues high in the air. In a moment the Nieuport had passed far beyond.
Casting a look over his shoulder Don saw an extraordinary spectacle—masses of flaming gas swept off by the breeze and illuminating the surrounding gloom.