Eagerly yet methodically Kirkwood brought the Lewis gun ready for action. It was to be the last resource in attack, to be used only if the seaplane failed to gain the aerial "weathergage"--a superior altitude to that of her bulky antagonist. For the present the odds were level as regards speed. The seaplane's greater rate of flight was counterbalanced by the fact that she had to climb in order to get above her intended prey and drop a bomb upon the immense and fragile bulk of the Zeppelin's envelope. And Fuller was achieving his object. Already Seaplane 445B was passing diagonally upwards through the raider's smoking trail, the oil tinged vapour from her exhaust pipes. Every moment tended to bring the protruding stern portion of the Zep, betwixt her crew and the steadily climbing aeroplane, thus diminishing the risk of detection. Fuller was about to check the upward climb and overhaul his antagonist when the Zeppelin appeared almost to stand on end. The whole of her upper surface was exposed to the British airmen's view. Then, almost simultaneously the seaplane seemed to be following. It was a form of optical delusion. She was still climbing steadily. The Zeppelin had spotted her small and dangerous foe. Dropping a quantity of ballast _en bloc_ the airship shot vertically upward to a terrific height. It was this motion that had given Fuller the impression that the seaplane was dropping. "She's twigged us!" he shouted through the voice tube. "Let her have it." The A.P. promptly began to let loose a whole drum of ammunition. The Zeppelin was instantly enveloped in a cloud of smoke. Into the pall of vapour the Lewis gun pumped its nickel missiles, yet no crippled flaming fabric crashed helplessly to the surface of the sea. The smoke was a "blind." Fuller realised that. Screening herself by the dense vapour the Zeppelin had ascended almost vertically until safe from observation in the dense clouds overhead. "Missed her, by Jove!" ejaculated the flight-lieutenant. "More than she did us," replied Kirkwood coolly, in spite of his keen disappointment, for a small-calibre bullet had ripped the ear-pad of his airman's helmet. Whether his ear was hit he knew not. The intense cold had numbed all sense of feeling. The shot was evidently from a Maxim and one of many, but in the darkness it was impossible to see whether the seaplane had sustained any damage. Judging by her behaviour Kirkwood thought not. Yet Fuller was loath to discontinue the chase. On and on he flew, further and further away from the "Hippodrome" and the shores of Britain, vainly hoping to pick up his quarry when the Zeppelin again emerged from the cloud banks. "I'll swear she's shut off power and is floating somewhere in that cloud," he soliloquised. "Well, I'll have a shot at it, even if we charge smack into the brute."