The man at the machine gun, who was standing in a stooped position, threw up his hands, fell backward and out of the plane.

A thrill of horror shot through John, and he shut his eyes a moment to keep from seeing that falling body.
"What has happened ?" asked Lannes, who had not looked around.
"Wharton has shot the man at the machine gun clean out of the aeroplane.
He must be falling yet." "Ghastly, but necessary.

Has anybody taken the slain man's place ?" "Yes, another has sprung to the gun! But he's gone! Wharton has shot him too! He's fallen on the floor of the car, and he lies quite still." "Your friend is indeed a sharpshooter.

How many men are left in the plane ?" "Only one! No, good God, there's none! Wharton has shot the third man also, and now the machine goes whirling and falling through space!" "I said that friend of yours must be a sharpshooter," said Lannes, in a tone of awe, "but he must be more! He must be the king of all riflemen.
It's evident that the _Omnibus_ knows how to defend herself.

I'll swing in a little, and you can take a shot or two." John fired once, without hitting anything but the air, which made no complaint, but the battle was over.