...
A bullet came tearing through the air by him, as though some one was
tearing paper. A second followed. Something tapped the machine.
It was time to act. The broad avenues, the park, the palaces below
rushed widening out nearer and nearer to them. 'Ready!' said the
steersman.
The gaunt face hardened to grimness, and with both hands the
bomb-thrower lifted the big atomic bomb from the box and steadied it
against the side. It was a black sphere two feet in diameter. Between
its handles was a little celluloid stud, and to this he bent his head
until his lips touched it. Then he had to bite in order to let the air
in upon the inducive. Sure of its accessibility, he craned his neck over
the side of the aeroplane and judged his pace and distance. Then very
quickly he bent forward, bit the stud, and hoisted the bomb over the
side.
'Round,' he whispered inaudibly.
The bomb flashed blinding scarlet in mid-air, and fell, a descending
column of blaze eddying spirally in the midst of a whirlwind. Both the
aeroplanes were tossed like shuttlecocks, hurled high and sideways and
the steersman, with gleaming eyes and set teeth, fought in great banking
curves for a balance. The gaunt man clung tight with hand and knees; his
nostrils dilated, his teeth biting his lips.
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