The five-pointed star in the black circle, painted on each wing Of the government planes, would probably have been invisible at that height, and the bold lettering of THE THUNDER BIRD indistinguishable also on the shadowed underside of the outlaw plane.
To the government planes she was branded irrevocably as they looked down upon her from their superior height.

There was no mistaking her, no hope whatever that the scouts might think her anything but the outlaw plane she was, flying in the face of international law, trafficking in treason, fair game if she once crossed the line.
On she went, boring through the night, heading straight for Tia Juana, which lies just south of the line.

Just north of that invisible line her pursuers held doggedly to the course.
"Turn back," Cliff turned to shout to Johnny who was driving big-eyed, his lips pursed with the tense purpose that held him to his work.
"Turn back and land at the rancho.

We'll never make Los Angeles with those damned buzzards after us.

I'll have to notify Sch--somebody." "Send him a thought message, then." "Turn back when I tell you!" Cliff twisted around as far as his safety belt would permit, that he might glare at Johnny.