"Let 'em get a little
farther over the line before you pop 'em with your electric rifle,
Tom."
Our hero nodded, and looked out of a side window to note the
progress of the smugglers. For several miles the chase was thus kept
up, and then, suddenly the smaller craft was seen to swerve to one
side.
"They are separating!" cried Mr. Whitford, at the same time Mr.
Damon called through the tube from the pilot house:
"Which one shall I follow, Tom?"
"The big one," the youth answered. "I'll take care of the other!"
With a quick motion he flashed the current into the great
searchlight, and, calling to Mr. Whitford to hold it so that the
beams played on the small aeroplane, Tom leveled his wonderful
electric rifle at the big stretch of canvas. He pressed the lever, a
streak of blue flame shot out through an opened port, and, an
instant later, the small craft of the smugglers was seen to stagger
about, dipping to one side.
"There they come!" cried Mr. Whitford. "They're done for!"
"One shot more," said Tom grimly. "It won't hurt 'em!"
Again the deadly electric rifle sent out its wireless charge, and
the airship slowly fluttered toward the earth.
"They're volplaning down!" cried Tom.
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