Ascending to an altitude of several hundred feet I attempted what is called the “spiral dip,” circling, in the air while gradually descending. But the shadows lay so thick in the forest that I could not tell whether any Faytans remained there or not. So I rose again and headed east across the island in the direction of the Pearl City. I must have covered five of the ten miles in the next five minutes, and the machine was working perfectly, when on glancing down I discovered a native sprinting across the fields at a rapid pace. After him, but nearly a quarter of a mile away, rushed a horde of savages. There must have been at least two thousand of them, all intent upon the chase. This was so peculiar that I did another spiral dip to get a little closer to the scene of action, and as I neared the ground and could see more plainly it suddenly flashed upon me that the flying native was Joe. Lucia had said that he had stained his skin and dressed himself in the native loin cloth, but I had forgotten that until now. It explained the scene perfectly. Joe had been discovered in the Pearl City, but had managed to escape and was now heading for the ship, followed by a host of pursuers. My friend was a mighty runner; I knew that. It was Joe’s especial athletic accomplishment, and with such a lead I believed he could keep the Faytans behind him until he reached the ship, unless—unless the forest still harbored an army of warriors, in which case they could easily head him off. With this contingency in mind I resolved to pick him up and take him with me; so, judging the distance as accurately as I could, I swooped downward and landed about a hundred yards ahead of the fugitive. “Climb aboard, Joe!” I called. “Take it easy, old man. We’re safe enough now.” He dashed up, panting but still full of energy, and said: “How can we start her, Sam?” “Take your seat, and I’ll show you,” I replied. I had seen Lucia do the trick and thought I could repeat it. The motor started, but the machine would not rise. It bumped along the rough ground a way until I became alarmed and stopped it. “Try again,” said Joe, coolly. I glanced over my shoulder and found the Faytans were getting uncomfortably near. But I kept my wits and took time to readjust the machine a little, so it would rise more quickly. A half dozen or so of the pursuers were well in advance of the others, and I suspected they might interfere with our start. So I faced about and carefully emptied my revolvers at them, halting all but one. Then I turned back to the machine, started the motor and ran beside it a few paces before I sprang into the seat. Just then I heard a revolver crack beside me, but could pay no attention to it because the biplane was speeding into the air at a tremendous clip. It persisted in mounting upward, because I had adjusted it that way, and in working the steering gear to obviate this the machine got a side motion that was both unpleasant and dangerous.