was doomed.

Round and round, struggling, battling in vain--and once more the
concussion of the rear gun shook the plane. And a shout from the
President reached Dick's ears.

Dick turned his head for an instant, long enough to see Von Kettler
spinning down through the vortex. And he was going down afire.
President Hargreaves, "no military man," had got him, the second time
he had ever aligned a gun-barrel upon a target.

"Bravo, sir, bravo!" Dick shouted.

And desperately he flung the stick forward and nosed down.

* * * * *

No gale, man-made or heaven-made, could carry on its wings
three-quarters of a ton of armored, turreted airship. Swirling like a
leaf, the plane broke through the clutch of the blast. Instantly it
grew calm. Outside that vortex, hardly a breath of air was stirring.
It was as if the whole fury of the air was concentrated within that
circle.

The ground came rushing up. Once more Dick tried to head seaward. With
flying speed lost, he was calculating the exact moment in his downward
rush when he could hope to resume control. Would that moment come
before he crashed?

At less than a hundred feet he partly regained control. For a moment
the plane seemed to fly on an even keel. Then her nose went down as
her speed slackened. And this time there was no salvation.

Working desperately to save her, Dick saw the ground loom up before
him. He heard the crash as the plane broke into splintering ruin ...
he had a last vision of old Luke clutching his precious watch: then
everything was dissolved in darkness....

CHAPTER XIII

_You Can't Down the Marines_

"He's pulling out of it! Keep it up, Gotch!"

Dick heard the words and opened his eyes. He stared in amazement at
the faces about him. Honest American faces under tropical helmets and
above a uniform that he had never expected to see again. It couldn't
be real. And yet it was. One word broke from his lips:

"Marines!"

"He's got it. Don't let him slip, Gotch.", grinned one of the friendly
faces, and the man named Gotch, who presumably had some qualifications
for his job, continued what was meant to be a gentle massage of the
nerve centers along Dick's spine.

"I'm all right." Dick muttered, beginning to realize his
surroundings. He was lying on a strip of prairie near the beach, on
which the waves were breaking in low ripples about a motorboat that
was drawn up.

He sat up. The world was swimming about h