Air Service Boys Omnibus

by

Charles Amory Beach

Book Index

Air Service Boys Flying for France *

Air Service Boys Over the Enemy's Lines

Air Service Boys Over the Rhine *

Air Service Boys In the Big Battle

Air Service Boys Flying For Victory

Air Service Boys Over the Atlantic

* This book is not currently available as an eBook. It will be added to the omnibus if and when it becomes available.

Air Service Boys Over the Enemy's Lines

or

The German Spy's Secret

Contents

I. Back of the Trenches

II. The Winged Messenger

III. A Spy Baffled

IV. Praise From the General

V. The Strange Warning

VI. Looking Backward

VII. The Great Day Arrives

VIII. Over the Enemy's Lines

IX. Winning His Spurs

X. After the Battle

XI. A Show On the Front

XII. Clowns On the Wing

XIII. More Work In Prospect

XIV. Off On a Daring Mission

XV. The Moonlight Flight

XVI. Landing Close To Metz

XVII. More Trouble For the Chums

XVIII. The Lone House By the Roadside

XIX. A Nest of Spies

XX. Jack Climbs a Wall

XXI. In the Old Lorraine Chateau

XXII. Facing More Difficulties

XXIII. Left Behind In the Enemy Country

XXIV. Troublous Times For Jack

XXV. Back To Safety— Conclusion

I. Back of the Trenches

"Tom, what do you suppose that strange man who looked like a French peasant, yet wasn't one, could have been up to late yesterday afternoon?"

"You mean the fellow discovered near the hangars at the aviation camp, Jack?"

"Yes. He seemed to go out of sight like a wreath of smoke does. Why, if the ground had opened and swallowed him up, once the hue and cry was raised, he couldn't have vanished quicker. I wonder if what they say about him can be true?"

"That he was a German spy? Anything is possible in war times."

"I guess you're right there. German secret sympathizers, and spies in the bargain, seemed to bob up all over the United States before we crossed the ocean to do our fighting for France as aviators."

"They certainly were busy bees, Jack, blowing up munition-works, trying to destroy big railroad bridges so as to cripple traffic with the Allies over here; burning grain elevators in which France and Great Britain had big supplies of wheat stored; and even putting bombs aboard ocean liners that were timed to explode days later, when the boat would be a thousand miles from land."

"Over in France here they make short work of spies, I've heard, Tom!"

"Yes, it's a drumhead court martial and trial. Then, if the man or woman is found guilty, the spy goes out with a firing squad to the most convenient stone wall. They never return, Jack."

"Whee! that sounds like war times, doesn't it? And to think the two of us are right on the firing line, in the midst of all the scrapping But, Tom, tell me, why should a tricky German spy want to hang out around the aviation field? He could hardly expect to pick up any news there that would be worth taking across the lines to the headquarters of the Crown Prince before Verdun."

"Don't be too sure of that, Jack. Perhaps he might learn of some contemplated bombing expedition, like that one we went on not so long ago." And Tom Raymond smiled slightly.

"They are a mighty clever bunch, those spies," admitted Jack Parmly.

"Why, Jack, half of the successes of the Kaiser's armies on all fronts, Russia, France and Rumania, can be laid at the door of his secret agents. They seem to be everywhere, trying to foment internal troubles, strikes, and discontent, so that when the Germans strike hard they meet a divided enemy in front."

"Well, I certainly wish we had caught that fellow."

"You were in the crowd, you told me, that scoured the whole neighborhood in search of him."

"That's right, I was. But say, he proved too foxy for us all. Anyway, we failed to find the rascal. Then night came on, when we had to give our man-hunt over. And to think that I even glimpsed the fellow's face in the bargain before the alarm went out!"

"Then you'd know him again perhaps, Jack, if ever you met him?"

"I think so. Though I suppose these spies have ways of changing their looks at times. But, to change the subject, Tom, it strikes me neither of us is groaning under the weight of game so far on our little side hunt." And Jack Parmly grinned.

"Oh, I didn't really expect to run across anything, though that French peasant assured us there were still some rabbits in the burrows over here, three miles back of our sleeping quarters. That's why, with a day off-duty, I took a notion to borrow an old Belgian-made double-barrel shotgun he owned, and walk out here."

"More to stretch our legs and get the kinks out, than anything else, eh, Tom?"

"That's it, Jack. Don't you remember that while we were training at the aviation school at Pau we used often to walk from the town, eight miles distant, until we sighted that famous little old red barn at Pau, where the Wright Brothers conducted some of their experiments in flying heavier- than-air machines. That was some little hike."

"Then too, Tom, I guess we wanted to get together by ourselves for a change, so we could talk about our folks at home in little old Bridgeton, U. S. A.," went on Jack Parmly with a sigh.

"All the fellows of the Lafayette Escadrille are mighty kind and sociable, but there are times when a fellow gets homesick. Just remember that we have been over here many months now. It seems years to me, Tom."

"Say, I hope you are not homesick enough to want to go back, old fellow?"

"Not me, Tom. I made up my mind to stick it out until we whip the Kaiser. But already I can see it'll never be an accomplished fact until Uncle Sam throws his sword into the scales. And any day now something may drop."

"Yes, matters are at an acute stage in Washington, that's sure. All France, bled nearly white in two-and-a-half years of war, is praying that the day may come soon."

After that the two athletic looking young Americans, dressed in the uniform of the French aviation corps, fell silent for a brief time. They, however, continued to trudge over the devastated fields, looking this way and that for any sign of a stray rabbit that had escaped the general slaughter.

It was just previous to the world-stirring session of Congress, when the President made his thrilling speech that sounded almost from end to end of the world, and put America in line for the cause of democracy. Anxious days those were across the ocean, anxious not only in France, Italy and Great Britain, in Serbia, Rumania, Greece and Russia, but in the Central Empires, also.

For well did those in Teutonic authority know, in spite of their vain boasting, that once great America decided, the thing was bound to be done, sooner or later. Never in the course of her history has our republic been on a losing side. Her wars have invariably brought eventual victory to her arms, because she has never once fought for an unjust cause,

These two vigorous young fellows were fair samples of those enterprising Americans who found it impossible to sit idly by. They could not await the slow course of events that was bound to carry our country into the world war on the side of the Allies, in spite of all the powerful counter currents among the pro-German citizens at home.

Dozens of the brightest of flying men from the States had gone over and offered their services to France, the country they loved. In time there came to be so many, that from the ordinary French Flying Corps there was formed a unit entirely made up of Americans.

This, in honor of the one great Frenchman whom Americans most honor at home, was called the Lafayette Escadrille. Some of its members had become famous at their profession. Names like those of Lufbery, Thaw, McConnell, Chapman, Prince, Rockwell, Hill, Rumsey, Johnson, Balsley and others became household words among readers of the great dailies in the States.

Tom Raymond was the son of a man who had gained fame as an inventor. When the war broke out he started work on numerous inventions, some of which were calculated to become terrible agents for the destruction of human life. Then Mr. Raymond's mood changed, and he set to work to conceive a wonderful stabilizer for airplane use that would save myriads of lives, and if adopted by Uncle Sam was likely to help win the war for the Allies.

Just when this invention was finished a drawing of one of the parts was stolen by a German spy. Later on, after Tom and his chum, Jack Parmly, had decided to become war aviators, having already had considerable aviation experience, they went to the flying school conducted by the Government in Virginia.

From there in course of time they crossed the Atlantic and entered the famous French school at Pau. Then, having mastered the science of flying sufficiently to be sent to the front, they had joined the Lafayette Escadrille, as related in a previous volume entitled "Air Service Boys Flying for France; or The Young Heroes of the Lafayette Escadrille."

Tom in particular seemed to have a great career ahead of him, unless some unfortunate accident, or possibly a Teuton pilot, cut it short, as had happened in the cases of Rockwell, Prince, McConnell and Chapman. Every one knew he possessed genius of a high order, and that it would not be long before Tom Raymond might anticipate gaining the proud title of "ace," which would indicate that he had defeated five enemies at different times, and put them entirely out of the running.

Tom was already a corporal in the French service, and expected before a great while to be given the privilege of wearing the chevrons of a sergeant. Jack had not progressed so rapidly but was doing well.

And now to return to the young aviators during their walk.

"I reckon we've gone far enough, Jack," Tom remarked presently. "Our friend Jean may have been telling the truth when he said there were still a few bunnies left alive in this war-racked section of country, but I can see they've got the good sense to stick to their burrows during the daytime. We won't be burdened with our bag of game on the return trip."

"Yes, that's always the trouble, when you go out after rabbits and haven't any hound along to get them up and bring them within gunshot," grumbled Jack.

"But we've had a good walk," returned his companion; "and for a time we managed to get away from that terrible explosion of shells, and big-gun firing. We ought to be thankful for our little time off, Jack."

"Oh! I'm not really complaining," remarked the other young aviator, with a whimsical expression on his good-natured face. "But don't you know I hate to go back without having fired even one shot." He stopped short and pointed upward. "Hold on, Tom; there's some kind of bird going to pass over right now! Crow or anything, please bring it down! I'll promise to eat it, no matter what it is."

Laughingly Tom threw the gun up to his shoulder, and the next instant the report sounded. It seemed almost contemptible, after listening to the roar of those monster shells exploding for so long.

The bird fell fluttering in a heap. Tom evidently was a fair marksman, for it had been moving swiftly over their heads at the time he fired. Jack ran forward and picked the game up. As he did so he gave utterance to exclamations that naturally excited the curiosity of his chum. So Tom, after reloading his gun with a fresh shell, waited for Jack to rejoin him, which the other did, his face full of mystery.

II. The Winged Messenger

"What do you call this, Tom? A queer sort of crow, I'd say. Looks more to me like the blue-rock pigeons Sam Becker used to raise at home," and so saying Jack held up the still quivering bunch of feathers.

Tom took one quick look, and then a startled expression flitted across his face.

"Just what it is, Jack!" he hastened to say. "A homing pigeon in the bargain! You can tell that from the bill and the ring around the eyes.

Jack in turn became aroused.

"A homing pigeon, is it?" he ejaculated. "Why, birds like that are used for carrying messages across the lines! Some of our airplane pilots have told me that sometimes they take a French spy far back of the German front. When he had made an important discovery he would write a message in cipher, enclose it in a tiny waterproof capsule attached to a ring about the pigeon's leg, and set the bird free. Inside of half an hour it would be safe back in its loft, and the message on the way to French headquarters."

He lifted one limp leg, and then the other.

"Look here, it's got a message, as sure as anything!" Jack exclaimed.

Tom leaned forward and took the bird in his hand, dropping the gun meanwhile. He carefully took off the gelatine capsule, and from it extracted a delicate piece of tough paper, which he spread open. There were a series of strange marks on the paper, of which neither of the air service boys could make anything.

"Looks like hieroglyphics, such as you'd expect to find on an Egyptian tomb or in the burial places under the pyramids," complained Jack, after he had stared at the lines in disgust for a brief period of time.

"It's a cipher of some kind," explained Tom, seriously. "With the key all this would resolve itself into some sort of communication, I suppose, connected with valuable information concerning the French armies here at Verdun."

"Then it was made by a spy!"

"No question about that part of it," came the ready reply.

"This carrier pigeon with this message, was on its way across to some point in the rear of the enemy line when you fired, and brought the poor little thing down in a quivering heap, I'm sure that's it," continued the other.

"Yes. And so after all it's turned out to be a lucky thing you chanced to see the bird coming along, Jack, and begged me to knock it down so we could show some sort of game when we got back to camp."

"What ought we do with this message?" asked Jack, accustomed to depending on his more energetic chum in many cases; though when left to his own resources he could think for himself, as had frequently been proved.

"I shall see that it gets to French head-quarters, with an account of the singular way we ran across it," Tom told him.

"Do you think it would be possible for any one there to translate this cipher of the German secret code?"

"Why not?" Tom demanded. "They are clever people, these wideawake French, and I shouldn't be at all surprised if they turned this incident to some good use."

"How?"

"Oh, it could be done in many ways. Suppose they found the key to the code. Don't you see how a fictitious message could be sent on in some way, if they could bag another pigeon from the same coop? They might even coax the Germans to deliver a furious attack at a supposed weak place in the line, which would of course be heavily guarded."

"That would be something worth while!" exclaimed the other with glowing eyes. "Lead them into a trap, where they would be mowed down like ripe grain, terrible as that sounds!"

"Yes, that's the idea I had in mind. But it would depend on several things. First of all would come the successful solving of this cipher code."

"Yes, and then the finding of another homing pigeon," added Jack. "I wonder if the fellow who released that bird could have a lot more of the same kind hidden away somewhere around back here."

"I was just going to suggest that we take a turn toward the south, and look around a bit before going back to camp. Do you feel equal to it, Jack?"

"What, me! Tom? Why, I'm as fresh as a daisy! This business has made me forget there's such a thing as getting tired walking."

"Let's see, we stood here when I fired," continued Tom reflectively, "and you walked straight to where the bird dropped. That would make the direction due northwest by southeast. How about that, Jack?"

The other took a survey, and then pointed with his hand.

"When I saw the bird coming first of all, Tom," he finally remarked, "it was just showing up over that clump of trees killed by gunfire. And it was heading as straight as can be for us."

"Yes," Tom went on to say, "because a homing pigeon on being released will rise to a certain height and take its bearings. Then it starts in a bee- line for its loft, whether that is five miles away or hundreds of miles. Some peculiar instinct tells it in which way home lies. It seldom if ever goes astray. Sometimes birds have made a thousand miles, and shown up at their home coop days after being set free."

"Well, then, the man who threw it into the air, after fastening this cipher message to it, must be over to the southeast of us," affirmed Jack.

"The bird was released within five minutes or so of the time I fired," Tom told his chum. "It's even possible the spy may have heard the report of my gun."

"Tom, why not try to capture that spy?" asked Jack, eagerly, ready for any sort of excitement.

The young aviators started off, walking briskly. They kept their eyes alertly open as they proceeded. At the same time, on Tom's suggestion, they continued to act as though still looking for game, even investigating at a burrow that certainly was used by rabbits, as the tracks plainly indicated.

Tom never deviated from a direct line due southeast. He knew that their best chance of making a valuable discovery lay in finding the place where the carrier pigeon had been released, to fly across the lines to its home loft. This might be many miles to the rear of the fighting front, even on Lorraine territory, in the neighborhood of the fortified city of Metz itself.

The two passed over a mile without making any sort of discovery, Jack, who did not possess quite as determined a nature as his comrade, was already commencing to make certain sounds akin to complainings, as though he felt keenly disgruntled because of their lack of success.

"Guess we'll have to give it up, Tom," he finally remarked.

"Wait," said Tom. "Before doing that let's investigate that old shattered farmhouse over yonder."

"Hello!" exclaimed Jack, plucking up some fresh interest, "have you located one of those remains of a building, then? I was coming to believe there wasn't so much as a broken wall left standing for a space of five square miles, so complete has been the destruction. But I see what you mean, Tom."

They walked ahead again, and approached the ruined farmhouse. It had been riddled through and through by shot and shell. Three-fourths of the original building lay in piles, the stones heaped up as they had fallen.

"Queer, isn't it, that the kitchen part escaped the smashing fire, and still stands," observed Jack. "I warrant you this is the only part of a building left around here. Tom, would our spy be likely to take up his headquarters in such a place as this, do you think?"

"I don't know," came the answer. "We can soon find out."

"He might feel desperate enough to open fire on us," suggested Jack, though he did not shrink or hold back when Tom advanced; for Jack Parmly did not have a drop of cowardly blood in his veins.

Tom turned and waved his hand as though beckoning to others who might be coming after them. He even called out in his best French, as if there were a dozen back of him that there was a possibility of securing at least a drink of cold water at the old-fashioned well with a sweep that stood near the kitchen of the ruined farmhouse.

"Good idea, Tom!" commented the other, chuckling with amusement. "If he gets the notion in his head that we are legion he won't be so apt to blaze away at us, knowing it would mean a short shrift for him. He may prefer to play the poor French peasant part, and try to pull the wool over our eyes."

Presently they arrived at the door. It was hanging from one hinge, and the entire place presented a vivid picture of the utter desolation cruel war always brings in its train.

Tom's first act before entering was to look down at the ground just before the door. Some intuition told him that if the place had been recently occupied they would possibly find some evidences of the fact in the earth.

"See there, Jack!" he suddenly exclaimed, as he pointed down close to his feet. "Fresh tracks, and made by a man's shoes in the bargain!"

"Some one has been in here for a fact, Tom, and I wouldn't be afraid to wager he saw us coming and cleared out in a hurry. He could have skirted those bushes, and got clear easy enough. Do you think it could have been the same chap who freed that pigeon?"

"No doubt about it," and Tom, stooping, picked up some small object. "See, here's a feather that was sticking to that dead weed. It's from a bird of the same color as the pigeon, perhaps from the very one I've got in my pocket."

"That settles it," snapped the pleased Jack. "I must say you're a clever hand at finding these things out. I'd have never dreamed of looking down at my feet, but blundered right into the shack to see if—— Oh! What do you think of the luck we're in this day, Tom? See what stands there on that poor old three-legged table!"

Jack's excitement was natural, as Tom readily understood when he looked; for there was a small basket or cage made from oziers or willow wands; and inside this they could see two blue gray homing pigeons, mates to the one Tom had shot only a short time before!

III. A Spy Baffled

Both young aviators stared at the wicker cage containing the two pigeons. The birds had been still up to then, but now commenced to make cooing sounds, as though pleased at having human company. Apparently they were inclined to be sociable, as Jack afterwards put it.

"So he discovered us coming along," Jack went on to say, "and skipped out in such a hurry he didn't have time to carry away the cage with him."

"He must have climbed out of this window in the side of the wall," observed Tom. "We could have seen him if he had used the door. Yes, there are footprints underneath the window. He ran down behind those bushes and reached the stone wall that leads to the broken country and what is left of the woods."

"The chances are he had all that mapped out beforehand," suggested Jack. "Surely a spy has always to keep a door open for retreat."

"Yes. Why not? They take their lives in their hands every time they enter the hostile lines, and you can't blame a man for wanting to live a little longer, especially if he believes he can serve his country."

"Perhaps he hasn't got such a good start but that we could overtake him if we went after him now," suggested Jack.

"We might take a turn that way," his chum agreed. "But not too far afield. We didn't start out to search for spies, and we've only got a single gun between us. Even my automatic was left behind, because I didn't expect to have any use for it, and get tired carrying the thing, with its belt."

"But these pigeons here, Tom?"

"We can leave them until we get back. That's one reason why I don't want to get out of sight of the place. He might make a round, and carry the birds away while we were engaged in a hunt half a mile off. And it may be of much more importance that those live birds arrive in the French camp than that we should bag the spy."

"I get you, Tom; so let's commence our little man-hunt right away."

The two friends set off. Tom tried to follow the course he believed the spy must have taken on quitting the old farmhouse ruins. That his reckoning was clear he proved several times by pointing out to his companion plain evidences that some other person had passed along the way before them.

Here the marks of shoes could be detected in the soft earth. A little further on, and at a point where the man must have crawled in order to keep from being seen, they found tracks where his toes had dragged along, as well as the indentation of his knees in the soil.

Presently they arrived at the terminus of the stone wall, about the only thing remaining intact connected with the French farm. There was not a single tree showing signs of life in that patch of sombre forest; where shell-fire had failed to do the work of destruction a malicious hand had girdled the trunk with a keen-edged tool, and thus encompassed the doom of the trees.

Tom came to a pause.

"I reckon we've come far enough," he said, taking a look over toward the fragment of a house on the slight elevation, which could just be seen from their present position.

"I'd have liked to catch up with that duck and march him back to camp, along with his feathered messengers," Jack grumbled disappointedly. "Somehow I hate and despise a spy above all created things."

The youths set their faces once more in the direction of the ruins, where they soon arrived. Jack half feared that in spite of them the cage and its feathered inmates had been spirited away. He hastened inside ahead of his companion and then called out cheerily:

"It's all right, Tom, and nobody at home. Here's the wicker cage and the pigeons, just as we left them!"

"As the afternoon is passing, and we have a long distance to go, we'd better be making a start," Tom remarked, when he reached the open door.

"Let me carry the pigeon cage, Tom, as you have the gun," suggested Jack, after slipping his hand through the ring at the top. "Say, perhaps the boys won't give us a laugh, to see what queer game we've brought back from our hunt!"

They left the ruins of the once peaceful farm-house behind them, and commenced retracing their steps. Tom was too old a hand at hunting to get lost. He had kept his bearings through the whole tramp, no matter how many turns they took in examining some promising ground where rabbit burrows might be found. On this account then he would have no difficulty whatever in leading his comrade straight back to the villa in which the entire Lafayette Escadrille of American fliers was quartered.

They were passing along about half a mile from the wrecked farmhouse kitchen, and not far from the spot where Tom made his successful shot, when without warning the report of a gun came to their ears. Jack involuntarily ducked his head.

"Say, did you hear that whining sound just over us, Tom? That was caused by a bullet skipping past!"

Tom for answer dragged his chum down behind a fringe of dead bushes that chanced to lie close by.

"It was a bullet, all right, Jack," he replied, not without a tremor in his voice, for this thing of being made a target by some murderous unseen person was a new and novel experience.

"Do you suppose it was fired by the man who owns these pigeons?" further questioned Jack though showing no intention of loosening his grip on the wicker cage.

"It could hardly be any one else. He has dogged us this far, or else just happened to catch sight of us. That shot was fired from a distance, and if we take a notion to run he couldn't possibly hit us. But we might as well make use of this fringe of bushes to creep some way off. Then we'll get on our feet and put out for home at full speed."

This they proceeded to do without further delay. When it was no longer possible to utilize the bushes for cover, they sprang to to their feet and ran. Jack fully anticipated hearing other shots— yes, and perhaps having more leaden missiles singing their vicious songs about his head. But he was agreeably disappointed in his expectations, for not a report came.

Evidently the spy had gone away, thinking discretion the better part of valor. He may have noticed that they were in uniform, and armed in the bargain.

Later on the air service boys moderated their mad pace, and as there seemed to be no further signs of danger they finally fell into a walk. Still neither of them lagged, but kept up a brisk pace, Jack casting numerous apprehensive glances over his shoulder, haunted by a lingering suspicion that the spy might yet give them trouble.

They came through safely at last. The villa in which the American fliers were quartered was reached, and seemed to be deserted at that hour in the afternoon. Everybody must be busy at the front, the boys concluded, for the din was more distracting than usual.

"We picked out a bad day for getting off, I'm afraid, Tom," Jack sighed. "They told us there was nothing big in prospect; but since we started out on our hunt I guess the Huns have put up something of size. And the boys will be in the thick of it all too! We might have had a share if we'd been on duty to-day."

"Brace up, Jack," chided his chum. "For all you know, what we've done may turn out to be ten times more important than all the work of the entire escadrille to-day. These captured birds and that cipher message, represent possibilities beyond anything you or I can know. Leave all that to the general."

"When do you mean to see him, Tom?"

"As soon as I can arrange it. And you're coming with me when I get the summons to his headquarters, depend on that, Jack. Your part in this affair is just as important as mine "

Tom put the cage with its cooing inmates in their room. Then he started out to try to get into communication with the commanding general. He had met him once by mere chance, but he hardly believed General Petain would remember him in the least.

The action was about over for the day. The Crown Prince had once again thrown a heavy storming party forward in the endeavor to make a breach in the French lines, through which he could pour the veteran reserves he had in waiting. But, as had often happened before, he counted without his host; and when the sun went down all he had to show for his stroke was a greatly increased casualty list.

The French could not be moved.

Tom understood how to go about it, and in the end managed to get an obliging French, captain whom he knew very well, to carry a message to the commander-in-chief to the effect that he had news of great importance to communicate. Just as Tom expected would be the case, this brought back a speedy answer.

"You are both to come with me, young Messieurs," said the captain, his eyes sparkling with interest, for Tom had told him enough to excite his curiosity, and he knew the Americans would not aimlessly take up the precious time of the general. "Our valiant commander is tired after a strenuous day; but never is he too weary to attend to duty; and he already finds himself interested in everything you brave young airmen attempt. So please accompany me to head-quarters."

Shortly afterwards the boys found themselves face to face with General Petain.

IV. Praise From the General

General Petain received the pair with his accustomed kindness. He loved youth, and his eyes sparkled with pleasure as he gave each of them a hand.

"My time is limited, I regret to say, my gallant Americans, or I should gladly ask you all manner of questions concerning your own country. We are all anxious to know when the great republic across the sea will decide to cast her decisive influence into the scales to bring us the victory we await with much patience. Tell me now what this strange thing is you have come across to-day."

Tom waited for no second bidding. He realized how tired the general must be after a strenuous day in keeping his finger on the pulse of the whole front, where the fierce German attacks had been hurled without success.

Accordingly he started at once his tale of how they had been given a day off for rest, and, having a love for hunting in their veins, had borrowed an old shotgun and started forth. Without wasting any time in useless descriptions he quickly reached the point where the pigeon was shot.

Jack, having nothing to say just then, contented himself with watching the various shades of expression that flitted across the face of the commander. At mention of the pigeon his eyes sparkled, and he leaned forward with an air of expectancy, as though anticipating what would come next.

Then, as Tom produced the message written on the thin but tough paper and handed it to the general the French officer eagerly scanned it. Jack also noticed that he did not appear disappointed because he could not immediately read the baffling communication. Of course it would be written in some secret code; that was to be expected.

"It is fortunate," remarked the French officer, "that I have on my staff one who is considered an expert at solving any and every species of cipher code. He will speedily figure it all out for me, and then we shall see what news this spy was transmitting to his commander. Please continue your story, which is very interesting, and in which your part does you both credit."

Tom, thus encouraged, went on. He told of their further search for the mysterious man who had set the homing pigeon free after attaching the secret message to it.

When he presently told of coming on the ruined farmhouse, and discovering the ozier cage containing two additional pigeons, just where the spy had left them in his hurried flight, the general fairly beamed.

"It is splendid news you have brought me— you aviators from our sister republic across the sea." he remarked exultantly, as though already in his fertile mind he could see great possibilities looming up whereby those pigeons might be made to serve a purpose.

The story was soon finished. Tom, of course, thought it necessary to tell of having been fired on while on their way back to the aviation post, though no harm had resulted. He did this not for the purpose of impressing the general with the idea that they had run any great personal risk, but because it might have some influence on the plans the officer probably had in mind.

After all had been told the commander again shook hands with both of the air service boys. This indicated, as Tom well knew, that he had given them all the time he could spare and that a dozen important things were awaiting his attention, so he saluted and turned to depart.

"This may prove to be a most important thing you have discovered," the general halted the aviators to say warmly. "The cipher will be solved, and then, if the facts warrant it, we may have another written that can be sent forward by one of your birds. You will give them over into the charge of an officer whom I shall dispatch back with you to your quarters. That will be convenient, I suppose?"

Tom hastened to assure him that they had expected just such a thing, and had hoped that the two captured pigeons might prove the means of leading the Crown Prince's forces into some sort of trap.

The general's black eyes snapped on hearing Tom say this.

"Ah I I see that you too have thought it out!" he exclaimed enthusiastically "Some day perhaps you may have command of an army, and exercise that talent with glorious success. France thanks you."

Both boys were deeply moved by their brief interview with the busy commander-in-chief of the French forces. They did not feel any humiliation at being addressed as "my children," knowing that it was a term of endearment used freely by officers high in command when addressing those in the ranks. In fact, the French army is very much like a big family, the men loving those they serve under.

"Well, that job's over," remarked Jack, heaving a sigh of relief when they were on their way to their quarters, accompanied by a jaunty captain who, Tom believed, must be a member of the general's staff.

"I'm glad to have had such a fine opportunity for meeting General Petain," Tom returned, for the captain at the time was walking a little in the rear, conversing with a courier who had come running after him, as if on important business.

"He was fine, wasn't he, Tom?"

"Next to Joffre I understand General Petain is the most beloved commander the army has ever had," replied the other. "I'll always fed proud that he shook hands so heartily with both of us."

The air service boys were soon in the automobile that had carried them to the general's headquarters back of the French lines. Here the captain joined them, having finished his hasty consultation with the courier. On the ride to the aviation camp he chatted pleasantly with the young Americans. He, it appeared, had spent several years attached to the French Embassy at Washington.

He asked particularly concerning the feeling of the common people in America, and what influence the powerful cliques of naturalized but pro- German citizens were apt to have on the Government.

Tom was able to assure him that slowly but surely the people of free America were becoming aroused to the deadly menace of German imperialism, and that presently— it might come at any day, according to the latest advices— Congress would assemble to hear a ringing appeal from the President, urging them to declare war upon the Kaiser, war to the finish. Apparently what the boys said had much in it to comfort the French captain. He knew only too well how eagerly his wearied nation was listening to hear just such a message of hope. He knew, also, just what it would mean for the brave defenders of France.

In due time the three arrived at the villa. Several of the American pilots saw the trio leave the car, wondered much what was in the wind that Tom and Jack should return with a member of General Petain's personal staff. Their curiosity was considerably heightened when later they saw the captain come out of the villa carrying a small ozier cage containing two blue-rock carrier pigeons, and effusively shake hands with both Tom and Jack, calling out to them as the car moved off: "In the name of France and General Petain I thank you for what you have done this day, my brave Americans!"

As the chums were about to pass into the building there was a hail.

"Wait a minute, Jack!" called one of their fellow pilots, hurrying up with some object in his hand at which the two boys stared with rising curiosity. I've got something here for you!"

"For me?" cried the youth addressed. "I'm ever so much obliged, but it strikes me I've got beyond the point of playing with a toy balloon; though honestly now, when I was a kid I used to be pretty fond of sailing one of 'em at the end of a long string, until it would get away, and leave me staring up while it climbed toward the clouds."

"Oh, this one is about past doing any climbing, I should say," replied the pilot, laughing at Jack's description of his childish woes. "In fact, it's been out during the night, and the heavy air forced it to come down. Listen, and I'll tell you a strange story that will make you believe in fairy tales."

"Go on then, please," urged Jack. "You've got me all worked up already. So there's a history attached to this little balloon, is there?"

"There was something attached to it, something that may mean much or little to you fellows," came the reply. "This thing was found by a French dispatch bearer on his way across country. Out of curiosity he stepped aside to look at the bobbing red object he had noticed among some bushes in an open field. When he found that it had a paper fastened to it, which on the outside had an address, he concluded to bring the whole business along with him. He came here half an hour back inquiring for Jack Parmly, and on finding you were away at the time left the balloon and the paper in my charge. Take it, and see what the message is, Jack!"

V. The Strange Warning

"Open it, Jack, and see what the message is," urged Tom, as his chum stood with the scrap of damp paper held between his fingers, having allowed the sagging little toy balloon to fall at his feet.

Jack was thinking just at that moment of the other message his companion and he had found attached to the homing pigeon. But of course they could not possibly have any sort of connection!

He opened the small bit of paper. It had some writing in lead pencil. Once it had doubtless been plain enough, but the dampness must have caused it to become faint. Still, Jack could make it out without much difficulty. This was what he read aloud, so that Tom and the other pilot could hear:

"Look carefully to your planes; examine every part. There is treachery in the air!"

"That's all, fellows," said Jack, much puzzled, as he turned the paper over and over, looking for some signature.

"No name attached, Jack?" asked his chum.

"Nothing whatever to tell who wrote that warning. Here, take a look at it, Tom. Your eyes may be sharper than mine and see something I've missed."

But Tom and the other pilot both failed to throw any light on the matter after examining the paper thoroughly. They exchanged stares. Then Jack laughed, a little queerly.

"This is certainly a mystery," he went on to say, trying to take the thing as a joke. "Some kind friend sends me a solemn warning, and then neglects to sign his name. Do you think any of the fellows of the escadrille could be up to a prank?"

Tom shook his head. The other pilot also exhibited positive signs of doubt in connection with such a thing.

"The boys often have their little jokes, and we are a merry bunch much of the time, just to change off from the nervous strain we're living under," the man observed. "But I'm sure not one of them would dream of doing a thing like this. It would be a mean trick."

"Then both of you are inclined to believe this warning was meant in all seriousness, are you?" continued Jack, no longer grinning as before.

"Yes, I do," Tom instantly announced. "It seems a bit childish, sending it in such a queer fashion; but then perhaps it was the only way open to the person. There was one chance in ten that it would be found; but you know sometimes we can't choose our way of doing things, but must accommodate ourselves to circumstances. This toy balloon being handy suggested a possible way of getting the warning to you, Jack."

"But why me any more than you, Tom, or any other fellow in the escadrille?" continued Jack, sorely bewildered.

"That's something we can only guess at," he was told. "Evidently this person had your name, and knew you were working here with the Lafayette boys. Try to think of some one you may have done something for to make him feel grateful to you. Could it have been that boyish-looking German prisoner we talked with the other day, and for whom you bound up a badly damaged arm, Jack?"

"Oh! that boy!" exclaimed the other, and then shook his head. "No, it's impossible. You see the poor chap could hardly talk halfway decent English, and I'm sure he never could write my name like this. Besides, Tom," Jack went on triumphantly, "I never bothered to mention to him that I had a name. To him I was simply an American flying for France."

"Anybody else you can think of?" persisted Tom, for it seemed to him that it meant considerable to try to discover who had sent the message by such a strange channel.

Jack pondered. Then all at once he looked up with a light in his eyes.

"You've thought of something!" exclaimed the other pilot eagerly.

"Well, it might be possible, although I hardly believe she'd be the one to go to such trouble. Still, she had children, she told me, at her home in Lorraine, back of Metz; and this is a child's toy, this little hot-air baloon."

"Do you mean that woman you assisted a week or so ago? Mrs. Neumann?" asked Tom, quickly.

"Yes, it was only a little thing I was able to do for her, but she seemed grateful, and said she hoped some day to be in a position to repay the favor. Then later on I learned she had secured permission to cross over to the German lines, in order to get to her family. She is a widow with six children, you know, a native of Lorraine, and caught by accident in one of the sudden furious rushes of the French, so that she had been carried back with them when they retreated. At the time she had been serving as a Red Cross nurse among the Germans. It was on that account the French allowed her to return to her family. They are very courteous, these French."

Tom was listening. He nodded his head as though it seemed promising at least.

"Let's figure it out," he mused. "Which way was the wind coming from last night, do either of you happen to know?"

"Almost from the north," the other aviator instantly responded. "I chanced to notice that fact, for other reasons. But then it was almost still, so the little balloon could not have drifted many miles before the heavy atmosphere dragged it down until finally it landed in the field."

"Well, that settles one thing," asserted Tom. "It came from back of the German lines, don't you see?"

"Yes, that seems probable," admitted Jack.

"Your unknown friend was there at the time," continued Tom, in his lawyer- like way, following up the trail he had started; "and hence apparently in a position to know that some sort of plot was being engineered against one Jack Parmly. Don't ask me why you should be selected for any rank treachery, because I don't know."

"And this person, this unknown friend of mine," Jack added, "wishing to warn me so that I might not meet a bad end to-day, sent out this message in the hope that it might fall back of our lines and be picked up. Tom, it makes me have a queer feeling. I almost think I must be asleep and dreaming."

"No, it's real enough. We may never know who the writer of this note is; but we can heed the warning just the same, and go over to examine our planes minutely. Whoever it was, spelled your name correctly. I've studied the writing, but it seems to be assumed, and clumsy. There was a reason for that too, as well as the writer failing to sign a name."

"What sort of reason?" queried Jack.

"Fear that in some way the message, and the balloon, might fall into German hands and lead to unpleasant results," Tom continued. "We know about how those Huns would serve any one who tried to spoil their plans. They believe in frightfulness every time, and it might mean death to the writer. This she evidently knew full well."

"Just why do you say 'she' when you speak of the writer?"

"Oh, I have an idea that Mrs. Neumann may be the mysterious friend who is taking such desperate chances to send you a warning. Anyway, something about it seems to say it isn't a man's handwriting Besides, neither of you may have noticed it, but there's a faint odor, as of perfume, adheres to that bit of paper, though the dampness has taken it almost all out."

Jack looked astonished at such shrewd reasoning.

"Well, you are certainly a wonder at seeing through things, Tom," he hastened to say. "And so of course that settles it in my mind. Mrs. Neumann sent this message to me; though how she could have learned that there was anything treacherous going on beats my powers of reasoning."

"But don't you think it would pay to learn if there's any truth about it all?" asked the other pilot, whose curiosity had been stirred up by such a strange happening.

"Yes, let's all go over to the hangars and have the planes out for a regular inspection," said Tom. "If mischief has been done the chances are it would be in a part not usually examined by the machanician before a flight. Then again the damage, if there is any, might be so covered up by the shrewd schemer that it would not be noticeable."

There were always cars going to and fro, for pilots came and went from time to time; so the trio quickly found themselves being whirled along over the road so often traveled in their daily work.

"How about that fellow they chased late yesterday afternoon, who was loitering about the hangars and acting in a suspicious way?" asked the friendly pilot, as they rode along. "More than a few of the fellows say he must have been a spy, and up to some mischief, because he slipped off so slickly."

"I had him in mind all the while," said Tom. "And if any mischief has been done, of course we can lay it at his door; though just how he managed to work we'll perhaps never know."

"I caught sight of him, too," Jack remarked; "and I only wish now I'd had a good look at the chap who owned those pigeons to-day, so as to tell if they were one and the same, which I believe to be a fact."

Just then Tom gave his chum a kick with the toe of his shoe. This suddenly reminded Jack that he was treading on forbidden ground, since they had resolved not to say anything to a third person concerning the adventure of that afternoon,

The other member of the escadrille was looking interested. He understood that Tom and Jack must have met with some singular adventure; but since they did not see fit to take him into their confidence he was too polite to ask questions, feeling there must be a good reason for their silence.

Presently they arrived at the hangars. It was now almost sunset. The fliers were coming down one by one, their labor for the day having been accomplished. It had been a pretty arduous day, too, and two members of the escadrille had new honors coming to them, since they had dropped enemy planes in full view of tens of thousands of cheering spectators, after thrilling combats high in the air.

One had also passed through an experience that few aviators can look back to. He had started to drop rapidly when, at almost ten thousand feet altitude, his motor was struck by a missile from a rival pilot's gun. When halfway down, either through a freak of fortune or some wonderfully clever manipulation on the part of the pilot, the machine righted, and he was enabled to volplane to safety, though considerably bruised and cut up through hasty landing.

Jack quickly had his little Nieuport out of the hangar, and the three airmen began a minute inspection. For a short time nothing developed that had a suspicious appearance. Jack, in fact, was beginning to believe the warning might after all be in the nature of a fake, or else the spy had not found a favorable chance to do his foul work before being frightened off.

But presently Tom gave utterance to an exclamation.

"Found anything, Tom?" asked Jack eagerly.

"Yes. Come around here, both of you!"

When the others joined Tom he pointed to where an important wire stay had been dextrously filed so that it must snap under a severe wrench or strain, such as commonly comes when a pilot is far afield, and wishes to execute a necessary whirl.

Jack shivered as he took in the meaning of that partly severed stay. If it gave way while he was far above the earth it must spell his certain doom!

VI. Looking Backward

"Just see the fiendish cleverness of the fellow who filed that stay!" Tom cried, as they all stared. "He filled the indentation his sharp file made with a bit of wax or chewing-gum of the same general color. Why, no one would ever have noticed the least thing wrong when making the ordinary examination."

"Then how did you manage to find it, Tom?" asked Jack, breathing hard, as he pictured to himself the narrow escape he had had.

"I suspected something of the kind might be done; so I ran my thumb-nail down each wire stay," came the answer. "And it turned out just as I thought."

"There may be still more places filed in the same way," suggested the other pilot, looking as black as a thunder-cloud; because such an act was in his mind the rankest sort of treachery, worthy of only the most degraded man.

"We will find them if there are," replied Tom, resolutely "And when this thing is known I imagine there'll be a general overhauling of all the machines on the aviation field. One thing is certain, Jack. You were playing in great luck when you suggested that we ask for a day off and then picked out this particular one."

Jack shrugged his shoulders as he replied:

"That's right, Tom."

Nothing could be done just then, with night coming on. Tom talked with several of the attendants at the hangars, and left it to them to go to work with the coming of morning. He even showed them how cunningly the work had been carried out; so they might be on their guard against such a trick from that time forward.

Then the three returned to the villa. Others of the members of the escadrille were in the car with the trio, so the talk was general, experiences of the day's happenings being narrated, all told in a careless fashion, as if those young aviators considered all such risks as part of the ordinary routine of business.

Later on the news concerning Jack's singular warning, and what came of it went the rounds. He was asked to show the brief note many times; but in answer to the questions that came pouring in upon him, Jack could not say more than he had already said with regard to his suspicions concerning the probable writer of the message.

That night Tom and Jack preferred the quiet of their own apartment to the general sitting-room, where the tired pilots gathered to smoke, talk, play games, sing, and give their opinions on every topic imaginable, including scraps of news received in late letters from home towns across the sea.

"Do you know, Tom," Jack said unexpectedly, "I'd give something to know where Bessie Gleason is just at this time. It's strange how often I think about that young girl. It's just as if something that people call intuition told me she might be in serious trouble through that hard- looking guardian of hers, Carl Potzfeldt."

Tom smiled.

Bessie Gleason was a very pretty and winsome girl of about twelve years of age, with whom Jack in particular had been quite "chummy" on the voyage across the Atlantic, and through the submarine zone, as related in "Air Service Boys Flying for France." The last he had seen of her was when she waved her hand to him when leaving the steamer at its English port. Her stern guardian had contracted a violent dislike for Jack, so that the two had latterly been compelled to meet only in secret for little confidential chats.

"Oh, you've taken to imagining all sorts of terrible things in connection with pretty Bessie and her cruel guardian. He claimed to be a Swiss, or a native of Alsace-Lorraine, which was it, Jack?"

"Uh-huh," murmured Jack Parmly, his thoughts just then far away from Tom and his question, though fixed on Carl Potzfeldt and his young ward.

Bessie Gleason was a little American girl, a child of moods, fairylike in appearance and of a maturity of manner that invariably attracted those with whom she came in contact.

Her mother had been lost at sea, and by Mrs. Gleason's will the girl and her property were left in Potzfeldt's care. Mr. Potzfeldt was taking her to Europe, and on the steamship she and Jack Parmly had been friends, and as Potzfeldt's actions were suspicious and, moreover, the girl did not seem happy with him Jack had been troubled about her.

"I'm afraid you think too much about Bessie and her troubles, Jack; and get yourself worked up about things that may never happen to her," Tom went on after a pause.

"I knew you'd say that, Tom," the other told him reproachfully. "But I'm not blaming you for it. However, there are several things Bessie told me that I haven't mentioned to you before; and they help to make me feel anxious about her happiness. She's a queer girl, you know, and intensely patriotic."

"Yes, I noticed that, even if you did monopolize most of her time," chuckled Tom.

"How she does hate the Germans, though! And that's what will get her into trouble I'm afraid, if she and her guardian have managed to get through the lines in any way, and back to his home town, wherever that may be."

"Why should she feel so bitter toward the Kaiser and his people, Jack?"

"I'll tell you. Her mother was drowned. She was aboard the Lusitania, and was never seen after the sinking. Mr. Potzfeldt was there too, it seems, but couldn't save Mrs. Gleason, he claims, though he tried in every way to do so. She was a distant relative of his, you remember."

"Then if Bessie knows about her mother's death," Tom went on to say, "I don't wonder he feels that way toward everything German. I'd hate the entire race if my mother had been murdered, as those women and children were, when that torpedo was launched against the great passenger steamer without any warning."

"She told me she felt heart-broken because she was far too young to do anything to assist in the drive against the central empires. You see, Bessie has great hopes of some day growing tall enough to become a war nurse. She is deeply interested in the Red Cross; and Tom, would you believe it, the midget practices regular United States Army standing exercises in the hope of hastening her growth."

"I honor the little girl for her ambition," Tom said. "But I'm inclined to think this war will be long past before she has grown to a suitable size to enlist among the nurses of the Paris hospitals. And if that Carl Potzfeldt entertains the sentiments we suspected him of, and is secretly in sympathy with the Huns, although passing for a neutral, her task will be rendered doubly hard."

"That's what makes me feel bad every time I get to thinking of Bessie. If only we could chance to run across them again I'd like to engineer some scheme by which she could be taken away from her guardian. For instance, if only it could be proved that Potzfeldt was in the pay of the German Government, don't you see he could be stood up against a wall, and fixed; and then some one would be found able and willing to take care of the girl."

Tom laughed again.

"How nicely you make your arrangements, Jack! Very pleasant outlook for poor Mr. Potzfeldt, I should say. Why, you hustle him off this earth just as if he didn't matter thirty cents!"

"It isn't because I'm heartless," expostulated the other hurriedly. "But I'm sure that dark-faced man is a bad egg. We suspected him of being hand-in-glove with Adolph Tuessig, the man who stole your father's invention, and who we knew was a hired German spy over in America. And from little hints Bessie dropped once in a while I am certain he doesn't treat her well."

"Still, we can't do the least thing about it, Jack. If fortune should ever bring us in contact with that pair again, why then we could perhaps think up some sort of scheme to help Bessie. Now, I've got something important to tell you."

"Something the captain must have said when he was chatting with you in the mess-room immediately after supper, I guess. At the time I thought he might be asking you about our adventures of to-day, but then I noticed that he was doing pretty much all the talking What is on the carpet for us now?"

"We're going to be given our chance at last, Jack!"

"Do you mean to fly with the fighting escadrille, and meet German pilots in a life and death battle up among the clouds?" asked Jack, in a voice that had a tinge of awe about it; for he had often dreamed of such honors coming to him; but the realization still seemed afar off.

"That is what we are promised," his chum assured him. "Of course our education is not yet complete; but we have shown such progress that, as there is need of additional pilots able to meet the Fokker planes while a raid is in progress, we are to be given a showing." "I'll not sleep much to-night for thinking of it," declared Jack.

VII. The Great Day Arrives

By the time the pilots of the American escadrille began to assemble on the field where the airplane hangars were clustered, (these being more or less camouflaged by means of paint cleverly applied to represent the earth,) the news concerning the air service boys' narrow escape had become generally known.

Great was the indignation expressed by all. Up to this time there had appeared to be considerable honor exhibited among the flying men on both sides. In fact many curious little courtesies had been exchanged that seemed to put the aviation service on a plane of its own.

One thing was certain. After that there would be no taking things for granted. Each pilot meant to satisfy himself as best he could that his plane was in perfect order before risking his life in the upper currents.

Jack was besieged for a full account of the matter. He, being an obliging person, gladly told everything he knew. Naturally the mystery attached to the discovery of the message of warning tied to the poor little partly collapsed child's balloon aroused considerable curiosity and speculation among the aviators.

The way some of them pumped Jack made him laugh; but he assured them he was just about as "deep in the mud as they were in the mire."

"I've told you all about the woman named Mrs. Neumann," he repeated for the tenth time. "And she's the only one I can think of who would be apt to care a cent whether Jack Parmly happened to be alive or dead. If anybody can give a better guess I'd like to hear it."

They did considerable "guessing," but after all it became the consensus of opinion that the grateful Mrs. Neumann was responsible. And so finally they let it go at that; for the day had begun, and there was an abundance of work to be accomplished before the sun set again.

"But this is certain," said one of the leading flyers of the escadrille, seriously; "if the Boches mean to stop playing fair it's bound to demoralize the service. Up to now there's been an unwritten set of rules to the game, which both sides have lived up to. I shall hate to see them discarded, and brutal methods put in their place."

Others were of the opinion that there might have been something personal connected with the attempt to kill Jack, through that shabby trick. The German spy might have had a private grievance against the youth, they said, which he meant to pay off in his own dastardly way.

No matter which turned out to be the truth, it was not pleasant for Jack to believe he had become an object of hatred to some mysterious prowler, and that possibly other secret attempts on his life might be made from time to time.

That day passed, and another followed. There did not seem to be much stirring on either side of the line; but such a lull frequently proved the precursor of some gigantic battle, for which the armies were preparing.

Of course, when the wind and weather permitted, there was always plenty of excitement among the airplane escadrilles. All manner of little expeditions were organized and carried out.

Now it was an attempt to get above that string of "sausage" balloons used for observation purposes only, so that a few well-dropped bombs might play havoc among them.

As these were always defended by a force of fighting planes hovering above, all primed to give battle on the slightest provocation, the result of these little forays was that a number of hotly-contested fights were "pulled off" high in air

One pilot brought down another enemy, and increased his score a peg, always a matter of pride with a pilot of a fighting plane. And another of the escadrille had the honor of getting above those observation balloons before a couple of them could be hastily pulled down.

Two of his companions engaged the defending Teuton pilots, and fended them off purposely, in order to permit the raid. The selected man swooped down like a hawk, passed the Gotha guard, and managed to shoot his bomb downward with unerring aim. One of the balloons was seen to burst into flames, and the second must have met with a like fate, since it was perilously near at the time, though the dense smoke obscured everything.

All these things and more did Tom and Jack witness through their glasses as those two days passed. Tom especially was waiting to have his wish realized with as much calmness as he could summon.

"I think it will come to-night, Jack," he told his chum, on the second afternoon, as they prepared to return to their lodgings.

"Then you believe there's some big move on tap, and that to-morrow a battle will be commenced? And all for the possession of some old ruined fort, perhaps, that is now only a mass of crumpled masonry and debris!"

"You mustn't forget, Jack, it is the famous name that counts with these romantic Frenchmen. Douaumont and Vaux mean everything to them, even if there is nothing but a great mound of stone, mortar and earth to tell where each fort once stood."

"Yes, I suppose you're right, Tom; and then again I was forgetting that the retaking of a prominent position which the Germans had captured means a heartening of the whole army. I've heard them talking of Mort-Homme, and Hill Three Hundred and Four, as if those were the most precious bits of territory in all France."

"These are sometimes strategic points, you know, keys to a further advance. But there comes the captain now, and he's got his eye on us, as sure as you live!" ejaculated Tom, giving a little start, and turning a shade paler than usual, owing to the excess of his emotions, and the anticipation of hearing pleasant news.

The leader of the Lafayette Escadrille smiled as he drew near. He waited until he could speak without being overheard, for it was not always wise to shout aloud when dealing with matters in which the High Command had a deep interest, such as a pending advance movement.

"It is to-morrow, Raymond," he said quietly, yet with a twinkle in his eye.

He had taken a great liking to these daring lads who had already made such strides toward the goal of becoming "aces" in time, granting that they lived through the risky period of their apprenticeship.

"Both?" gasped Jack eagerly.

The head pilot shook his head in the negative.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Parmly, but you'll have to wait a bit longer," he announced, whereat the other's face fell again, though he gulped, and tried to appear content. "There are several things you must correct before you can expect to take such chances. We are short a fighting pilot for to- morrow, and I thought it was time we gave Raymond his initiation."

Then as he walked alongside the chums he entered into a minute description of the duties that would devolve upon Tom in his first time up to serve as a guardian to the heavier planes acting as "fire-control." and scouts, or "eyes of the army."

"Of course you are only to butt in if we are outnumbered," the leader explained in conclusion. "The experienced and able fliers must take care of such of the enemy as venture to attack our big machines. Some of these Boches will be their best men, with records of a dozen or two machines to their credit. It would be little short of suicide to send a novice up against them, you understand."

Tom was ambitious, and would of course be delighted to prove his metal when opposed by a famous "ace;" whose name and reputation had long made him a terror to the French and British airmen. Nevertheless he recognized the wisdom of what the captain was telling him, and promised to restrain his eagerness until given the prearranged signal that his chance had come.

It made Tom feel proud to know he had won the good opinion of such a brave man as the captain, as well as the friendship of those other gallant souls composing the American squadron of aviators fighting for France.

"Still," he said to Jack later on, when they were together in their room getting into their ordinary street clothes, "it made me feel a bit cheap when he spoke of my being pitted against just an ordinary pilot, some fresh hand as anxious as we are to achieve a reputation. At the same time that's what we must seem to these veterans of scores of air combats, all of whom have met with the most thrilling adventures again and again."

Jack managed to hide his bitter disappointment. He realized that he would never be in the same class as his more brilliant chum. Tom was fitted for becoming an expert in the line he had chosen for his calling. On the other hand Jack began to believe that he was a little too slow-witted ever to make a shining success as a fighting aviator, where skill must be backed by astonishing quickness of mind and body, as well as something else within the heart that is an inherited birthright.

"Anyhow," he consoled himself by saying, not aloud, but softly, "I can be the pilot of a bombing machine, and perhaps in time they'll give me charge of a plane used as fire-control during the battle. That is as far up the pole as I ought to aspire to climb. These chaps in the Lafayette are one and all picked men, the very cream of the entire service."

VIII. Over the Enemy's Lines

"I say, Tom, it looks like a poor day for flying I'm afraid," Jack called out in the chill of the early dawn the next morning, he having been the first to get out of bed and step over to the window of their sleeping room.

It was of course in the villa placed at the disposal of the escadrille, many miles back of the first line of trenches,

Tom, however, did not bother his head about the weather to any appreciable extent.

"It's likely to turn out a fair day for work," he told his chum, in his cheery way, as he followed Jack to the window. "You know that's happened lots of times. So far we've been lucky enough not to get caught in a storm while aloft Yes, I can already see that there isn't going to be a stiff breeze; and what would a sprinkle of rain amount to?"

"I suppose the thing has to be pulled off, no matter what the weather is," mused Jack, as he proceeded to dress, since breakfast had been ordered at an unusually early hour that morning.

"Well, the High Command has made all arrangements for a big time. You know what that means, when tens of thousands of poilus have to be transferred during the darkness of night, so that the enemy pilots can't glimpse the movement and give warning? So, unless the skies fall, we are bound to get busy this morning."

The air service boys were soon at the hangars, where an animated scene was taking place. Any one could see that something unusual was about to take place, because of the numbers of men rushing this way and that, while motors were popping and machine-guns being tried out so as to be certain they were in prime condition for service. Scores of mechanicians, chauffeurs, observers, as well as other helpers, went about their work of getting "ready for business."

The air fighters were dressed in their fur-lined union suits, with fur overcoats, gloves, and caps; for they would soon be soaring to great heights, where the atmosphere was almost Arctic in its intensity.

They were examining their automatic pistols, seeing that their airplane compasses, speed indicators, special airplane clocks, mounted on wire springs, and altitude barometers were in their proper places and in working order. Their very lives might depend on a little thing, and no one could afford to neglect even trifles.

Every few minutes one of the planes would roll over the surface of the level ground in front of the long line of hangars. Then, when sufficient momentum had been attained, it would commence to climb swiftly upward. Soon the machine would get into spirals like a winding staircase, and mount toward an altitude of perhaps four thousand feet, there to await the coming of companion craft before heading toward the battleground, far distant.

Jack squeezed the hand of his chum, and gave him one last look. There was no need of words to tell the deep feelings that gripped his loyal heart; indeed, Jack was utterly unable to utter a single sentence.

Then Tom was off.

He made the ascent with his customary brilliancy, which had won him the admiration of the entire escadrille. The air seemed to be filled with various types of planes. Some were already moving off toward the front, from which came the roar of battle, showing that already the action had begun by an intense bombardment of a portion of the German trenches which the French longed to retake.

Tom spent some little time "knocking around" while awaiting the coming of those members of the Lafayette Escadrille who were the last to leave the ground.

What is twenty or even thirty miles to a pilot in a speedy Nieuport capable of going two miles a minute when pressed? They could be over the lines in a very brief time after leaving the aviation camp.

Tom looked at the scene below him, which was spread out like a gigantic map. He never wearied of observing it when simply "loafing" up in the air, as at present. The sun was fairly above the eastern horizon, though clouds drifted along in scattered masses, and it was as yet impossible to tell what the day might bring forth.

Then the last of the squadron arrived, and the signal was given to start for the front. Away they went with a whirr and a roar, seven strong. They overtook a number of clumsy two-seaters on the way, observation planes, bombing machines, or it might be those included in the "fire-control" units going to relieve some of their kind already doing their appointed bit in the battle.

Tom looked far beyond. He could see great oceans of smoke arising that told of innumerable high explosives bursting, and enormous guns being discharged. Both sides seemed hard at work, though the French were certainly sending ten shells to one that came from the forces of the Crown Prince. This told plainly enough which army expected to do the attacking that day.

And yet while all this wonderful panorama of war was spread beneath them, the seven pilots moving onward in wild-geese formation, with the captain at the head of the V, they heard nothing of the tumult raging. In their muffled ears sounded only the loud whirr of the propellers, and the deafening explosions of the engines. It was almost as noisy as a boiler shop in full blast.

The fire-control planes were already sending back their signals, the observer aboard intently following the course of each monster shell to note exactly where it landed, and then communicating with the gunners, so they might correct their faults and make each missile count.

German pilots were in the air also, sometimes in swarms. Theirs was the task to attack these heavier machines and try to cripple or destroy them.

Of course each one of these machines of the French "relage," or fire- control, was armed with a quick-firing gun; and there was an observer aboard, as well as a deft pilot. They carried such a large assortment of material, consisting among other things of a complete wireless outfit, that they had to be built with unusually large wings.

This makes them slow to answer to the call of the pilot; and when attacked by the more nimble Fokkers they have a hard time to keep from being shot down. That is why a number of the Nieuports with well known "aces" in charge, must always be hovering over the fire controls, ready to fly to their assistance in case they are attacked.

"Things are surely beginning to happen," murmured Tom. "The Boches seem to be in an unusually fierce and aggressive humor on this particular morning"

The youth was right in this. The Germans had been thrown out of numerous hard-won positions lately, and this gave them cause for feeling bitterly toward the French.

By the time the American unit reached the field of battle, several furious combats had already taken place with disastrous results. Two of the enemy machines had been sent down, one of them in flames, after the pilot had fallen at his post, fairly riddled by the gunfire of the Frenchman. A birdman had also paid the great debt on the side of Petain's men. As the score was two against one there seemed no cause for depression.

The Americans would not be kept out of the fight for long. No sooner were three adventurous Teuton pilots seen climbing up to attack the big fire control machine when Tom's companions dropped down from the "ceiling" to engage them.

Tom watched everything as though photographing the thrilling happenings on his brain forever. He had a greater interest in these things than at any previous period of his life, for was he not also hovering over that observation Caudron, upon which the movements of the advancing French troops depended? At any minute might he not receive the signal from the captain to attack some fresh Boche, who had climbed high above the battle lines to join the general scrimmage, or else "get" the big French machine while its defenders had their hands full with his comrades?

Had Tom been able to use his binoculars just then, which was out of the question of course, and look back to where the monster French guns were firing, he might have noticed various white sheets spread out in fantastic patterns on the ground, the picture varying every little while.

These were used to "talk" with the observer who was sending those messages from the fire-control plane, telling the gunners just how many metres their fire was short, long, to the right, or to the left of their intended objective.

Then again information was being sent by another observer to the advancing infantry, warning them of perils that lay in their way, which might have cost them great and grievous losses if they remained unknown until the German trap was sprung.

The morning was advancing. Tom had seen his comrades chase off several flocks of enemy aircraft that endeavored to interrupt the deadly work of the observers. As yet his anticipated chance had not come. He was beginning to feel impatient. Could it be that he must stay there almost up among the clouds, and only be a "looker-on?"

How eagerly did his heart throb with renewed hope each time he discovered signs of another attempt on the part of the enemy pilots to engineer a raid that might check this observation work. They knew what it was doing to advance the cause of the battling French; and that, as often proved to be the case, the airplanes were again the "vigilant eyes of the army."

It was well along in the morning when Tom Raymond's time came. The fighting below had been going on for some time, and from fugitive glimpses Tom snatched every now and then as he looked down, he had reason to believe things were moving successfully for the assailants. At least the French troops occupied a long line of trenches where the Boches had been in possession at the close of the previous day.

Yes, there was another burst of ambitious fliers rising to take a chance. The fact that already seven of their men had been dropped, several with their planes ablaze, did not deter them for those German airmen had often proved their courage and were known as stubborn fighters.

Soon another battle below the clouds was in progress. Besides Tom, there were now only three of the Americans in the air, the remainder having been driven down, some in trouble of some kind, others to replenish their supplies. And there were four enemy planes, Tom noticed, even as he watched the machine of the captain and received the signal to attack the latest arrival in the enemy squadron.

IX. Winning His Spurs

"At last!"

Those were the expressive words that broke from Tom Raymond's lips when he saw the commander give him the long-anticipated signal. Tom had already discovered his intended antagonist. A fourth plane was coming up quickly. It had held back to await the chance that would be offered when the three defenders of the fire control machine were hotly engaged with the trio of skillful Boche pilots.

The game was very apparent. It was likewise exceedingly old. The French commander was too experienced an aviator to be so easily caught. That was why he had signaled to Tom to take care of the fourth and last German airman, and guard the important observation plane.

Tom started down with a rush, just as a hungry hawk might swoop upon a pigeon it had marked for its intended pray.

"I've got to make good!" the young aviator told himself. "I've got to make good!"

The German pilot saw him coming. He had more than half expected to be interfered with in his designs; but it would please him first of all to riddle this ambitious young airman, and his Nieuport, and then to accomplish his main purpose.

Now the two were so close that Tom could plainly see the black Maltese crosses on the wings of the Teuton plane as it tilted in climbing. Already had the other opened fire on him, for as his motor was silent during his first long dive Tom could catch the tut-tut-tut of the rapidly exploding mitrailleuse.

Somehow this did not unnerve him in the least, as he had feared it might. Even when he realized that the missiles were cutting holes through the wings a few feet away he did not grow uneasy. The spirit of battle had gripped Tom. He was now attaining what had seemed to be the height of his ambition. He was trying out his mettle against one of the enemy pilots, a man with considerable more experience than himself, and therefore well fitted to spur him on to do his level best.

He could see the pilot crouched in his place, and working his gun with one hand while he managed some controls of his fleeting machine with the other, for there was only one man aboard, though German machines usually hold two. Long practice had made him an adept at this sort of thing, it seemed.

But then Tom had been taught the same clever trick down at the French school of aviation at Pau, and over on the lake at Casso. He was now about to show whether he had learned his lesson to advantage. It was French ways pitted against those of the German school.

Tom tried to aim directly at the foeman as he rushed toward him. Then he pressed the release hard, and instantly the rapid-fire gun commenced its staccato barking, as it spit out the bullets.

Crack! crack! crack! crack!

Thus the two rivals, rushing at each other like opposing birds of enormous size, passed and dived, as though ducking to avoid the hot fire. Tom looked back, hoping to discover the enemy winged and dropping out of the fight. Nothing of the kind occurred; but on the contrary his antagonist was sailing on, apparently untouched, at least in any vital point.

That meant it must all be tried over again. The second round in the air duel was about to open. It was impossible to predict what the outcome might be, but at any rate Tom felt renewed courage and confidence.

If he had passed through one siege unscathed he believed he could show considerable improvement the next time. Already had he learned how he might avoid several little errors of judgment, not much in themselves possibly; but which tended to interfere with his doing the one thing necessary— firing point blank into the muffled face of the German pilot.

Once more were they rushing headlong toward each other. Tom was steadier now, and more alert. He had his plan of campaign mapped out clearly in his mind. He had moreover noticed a weak point about the other's method of attack, of which he intended to take advantage.

The other three Americans were just as hotly engaged not far away; but it was a case of every man for himself. Tom counted on receiving no assistance. Indeed, while that feeling of confidence pulsed through his veins he would have scorned to call for help, or even to allow it, if he could prevent such a thing.

Again the guns opened fire as the two foes advanced with savage fury. Such a battle in the clouds is on a plane that almost beggars description. Nothing resembling it has ever been known before in all the annals of history until the present world war broke out, and the airplane was perfected as it stands to-day.

This attack was even more tumultuous than the first had been. The planes tried dodging, and several tricks were brought to bear on either side; for it seems that every pilot has his pet theories as to how best to catch an opponent napping. Everything is fair, once the battle royal has started and German wit is matched against American, or French.

Again did they pass each other for a sudden dip. Each feared to be caught in a condition that would not permit of defense. They looked for all the world like a couple of agile boxers engaged in a contest, in which foot- work counted almost as much as that of the fists.

Around and around they flew, coming back to the attack a third, and even a fourth time. Tom was beginning to grow impatient. Try as he could, he did not seem able to bring the other down, though he was almost sure he had poked his rapid-fire gun straight for the German's face, and when only a comparatively short distance away.

"I've got to get him!" he muttered. "Or else he'll get me!"

He wondered whether there could be anything in what he had heard one old aviator say, to the effect that he firmly believed some of those Germans must be wearing armor or suits of mail, since he had poured streams of missiles straight at them, and without the least appreciable effect.

The German was getting a bit reckless. No doubt be had anticipated an easy victory over the other, whom he must have guessed was something of a beginner at this sort of aerial combat. Tom's agility in avoiding punishment annoyed him; likewise the way the bullets splashed around him had a disconcerting effect on his mind.

This was the fifth dash, and it seemed as though the time had come when one or the other should win the contest. They were growing more and more desperate now; the fire of the battle had gone to their heads, and each must have made up his mind to finish the fight then and there, judging from the way they headed straight toward one another. At any rate Tom had determined that he must win, and win without delay.

Bang!

Tom realized suddenly that he had been struck, for he felt a sudden acute twinge. He neither knew nor cared how serious the injury might be, so long as it did not incapacitate him from serving his machine. And, best of all, thus far no missile from that popping mitrailleuse of the German had done serious damage to the vitals of his plane.

Let the bullets cut holes all they pleased through the linen of the wings; there would be no splitting, as happens in the case of cotton or other fabrics; and such tiny apertures do not count for much in retarding the upholding power of a plane.

Another dash, and this time Tom felt absolutely certain he had made a hit. It seemed to him he must have fairly riddled the other pilot, so close was he when he poured all that torrent of lead aboard his craft.

They rushed past one another, but Tom took the earliest possible opportunity to redress, and look back at his foe. A thrill ran through his entire being as he discovered that the other was in trouble. The Fokker was descending in erratic spirals, evidently out of control. Man or machine, perhaps both, had come within the deadly line of fire, and the fight was over.

Turning, Tom watched the enemy plane go down. He had a queer, choking sensation in his throat. Every novice probably feels that when he watches his first rival heading earthward, with a mile or more to fall before he strikes. Still, Tom grimly held his feelings in check. A successful air pilot, especially when he manages a fighting craft, can not let sentiment get the better of his combative spirit. It is a fair test of skill and endurance, and as a rule the better man wins the game. And war must always be an exhibition of cruelty in that human lives are the stake played for.

Nevertheless Tom was secretly glad to discover that the plane was being fairly well guided to earth, showing that the German pilot, though he had lost his fight, could not have been killed outright, or even mortally wounded.

Tom now found a chance to look around, and note what was going on. It was just then that one of the leading American aviators drove at his antagonist in a series of zigzag spins that must have bewildered the German, he never having run up against such tactics before.

The consequence was the enemy met defeat. Tom knew what was going to happen as soon as he saw the chief star of the Lafayette Escadrille start his favorite attack. And ten seconds afterwards a second Teuton plane was whirling around aimlessly and falling. It turned in its flight so that its white belly showed plainly just as a fish will in its death throes.

But the pilot was game to the finish, and managed in some wonderful fashion to swing his damaged craft around again, so that when it landed with a crash it fell bottom-down, and the motor did not come on top of him.

Later on Tom learned that the man was badly injured, and made a prisoner. Eventually he pulled through, though it was reported he would never be fit for flying again, even if he gained his freedom.

The other two Germans had retreated, deeming the Americans too strong for them. And Tom hoped it would be some time before others could muster up sufficient courage to go aloft, to pit their machines with those of the members of the Lafayette Escadrille.

X. After the Battle

During all this turmoil the fire-control plane pilot had kept his machine at work. While the fighting guard engaged the German, the observer aboard the larger craft continued to send his signals to the batteries far in the rear of the French advanced lines: and through the successful working of the undertaking a number of heavy Teuton guns had already been silenced.

Tom now found time to look down, using his glasses for the purpose, since the air in their immediate vicinity was clear of enemy planes. He could see something of the battle, though so much smoke lay above the battle- ground that it was only when this lifted temporarily that an occasional fugitive glimpse could be obtained of the earth.

The French were undoubtedly pushing the Germans well out of their advance trenches. They had already gone forward far enough to redeem a fairly wide stretch of territory that had been taken from them at the time the forces of the Crown Prince made their forward drive, at the cost of more than a hundred thousand men.

Tom now felt another twinge in his shoulder. On looking into the matter he discovered, as he suspected, that he had been wounded. Blood was showing on his thick fur-lined coat.

Just then a plane approached him. Tom recognized the mark on the side, and knew the muffled figure seated in the machine was the commander of the escadrille. He was coming to ascertain whether the novice had drawn out of his mst combat entirely unscathed.

He had, in truth, cast many an anxious, fleeting look toward the pair while Tom was "doing his bit" for France; for after discovering that the German was an experienced pilot, and a man to be feared, the captain would gladly have flown to the relief of Tom only that he had his hands full with the Teuton he had attacked.

He made motions as he approached at reduced speed. Tom could not hear a sound save the loud beat of his own motor, but he knew what the other was asking.

So he touched his left shoulder with his finger, and held that up to show that it was reddened. Then the Captain made a quick motion that was meant for a command Tom was to go down. There was no necessity for his remaining aloft longer, now that another had arrived to relieve him from the post of duty. He ought to call it a day's work, and have his shoulder attended to.

Regretfully Tom obeyed. His fighting spirit was aroused, and he would gladly have accepted a second challenge to combat, had the opportunity come. He nodded his head to show he understood, and then started back toward the French lines.

All this time shrapnel had been bursting here, there and everywhere underneath them; but no one paid much attention to the shower. Indeed, shrapnel does not account for as many hostile planes as might be imagined; since each looks like a fly when ten thousand feet high, and the surrounding space is so vast.

So Tom swung past the advance French lines, just as they were making another forward movement. He could glimpse long lines of poilus streaming over the shell-hole pitted terrain like ants in army array. Tom would have been pleased to hover above them for a while, and watch how those furious fighters rushed the Boches out of their second line trenches, as though nothing could stay their push.

Beyond the French barrage fire was falling like a curtain. Tom could tell this from the constant line of explosions that took place. The Germans in the second trenches would have no chance of going back through that deadly hailstorm of shells; they must either die at their posts, or surrender, he saw.

So fifteen minutes later Tom dropped to the field, ran his plane up close to the hangar, and then as a figure dashed wildly toward him, started to climb wearily from his seat.

Of course it was Jack. He was wild with delight, and was swinging his cap above his head with all the animation of a schoolboy.

"Oh! to think that I saw it all, Tom!" was what he cried, as he seized the hand of his chum, and squeezed it fiercely, almost crying in his excitement.

"You did!' exclaimed the other. "How did that happen, when I had the glasses aloft with me?"

"Oh, I borrowed a pair from an obliging French officer. When he understood that you were my chum, and that it was your first trial at combat in the air, he gladly accommodated me. They are willing to do almost anything for us Americans. My heart was up in my throat every time you rushed at that terrible Boche pilot!

"But how could you pick me out at that distance? demanded Tom incredulously, for it seemed almost unbelievable.

"I guessed that our captain would have you hold back when he and the other two started to meet the rising Germans," said Jack. "You see, I was wise enough to believe he would want you to butt in only in case a fourth Boche came along. And when that happened I knew your chance had come."

"It was pretty exciting while it lasted," remarked Tom grimly.

They were soon on the road to the villa, going in one of the cars used to take the pilots when going to and returning from work. There was a surgeon at hand, and an examination of Tom's hurt was made. It proved to be a small matter, though it had bled quite freely.

"You must take a few days' rest, young M'sieu," the army surgeon told the young aviator after he had dressed the wound. "It was a narrow escape, I assure you. Three inches further down, and I would not like to have answered for your life. But evidently France had further need of your excellent services. I salute you, M'sieu Raymond, you have this day done your duty well, and won your spurs."

The air service boys could not remain quietly at the villa while all that furor was going on They wished to be at the hangars, to greet those who returned, and give the pilots who were sallying forth a last word of encouragement.

It was a long day, and full of thrilling happenings. Other battles in the air occurred along the extended front, and not all of them wound up in victories for the Allied forces. Some distinguished Teuton "aces" were flying on that occasion who would not be denied their toll. But the Lafayette Escadrille lost none of its members, Tom and Jack were glad to learn.

Night finally set its pall over the field where all day long the hostile armies had fought and bled. The French were grimly holding their seized terrain, and hurling the Germans back again and again. The serried ranks had pushed forward up to within an hour of sunset; then, apparently realizing that it was a hopeless task, the Teuton High Command had given the order to withdraw.

On the following day the battle was not resumed. The French had their hands full in strengthening and fortifying their new positions, while the Germans must have been so severely punished and "shot to pieces" that they needed time to effect the reorganization of their various battalions and regiments.

So several days passed, and nothing out of the ordinary happened, at least in connection with the two chums. Tom's slight wound was healing fast, and he was told by the army surgeon that it would be quite safe for him to go up again at any time now, a fact that pleased the young aviator immensely.

"I'm going to make a record for myself," he told his chum.

"You're the fellow to do it," answered Jack. "Wish I was in your shoes."

XI. A Show On the Front

While the fighting on the Verdun front was furious at times, with prolonged spasms when the Germans seemed determined to recover the territory they had lost to the French, there were also periods of almost total calm.

During these quiet periods the members of the American escadrille were sometimes hard pushed for ways in which to pass the time away, and amuse themselves. Inaction fretted most of them, since they were endowed with that restless spirit which seems to be the inherent trait of most Americans.

Many were the expedients tried by means of which some amusement might be extracted from life. Their daily business was so exciting that these slumps left the aviators nervous and unhappy. It was like the sailor who, bowling along under full pressure of canvas for weeks, in the old days of the sailing vessel, suddenly found himself in the "doldrums," and becalmed for what might be an indefinite period— it was apt to wear upon a nervous system that demanded work.

Of course the pilots were merry while at meals and during their loafing periods: but every time one of their number returned from the front and reported the inaction as still continuing, many deep sighs of discontent would arise.

Then a clever thought occurred to some one of the men. Perhaps it was suggested by a happy-go-lucky Irish aviator who was connected with the British air forces, and wore the marks of distinguished service on his arm and cap.

Sergeant Barney McGee had received a month's furlough in order to recover from injuries which he had sustained. Instead of going back to Ireland to spend his enforced vacation, as one might naturally expect him to do, McGee put in the time visiting other parts of the long front between Ypres and Verdun.

After all, there was nothing so very singular about that. Give an old railroad engineer a week off, and presently you will discover him spending the time loafing around the round-house, chatting with the other engineers, and investigating things. His whole life being wrapped up in his work his idea of a vacation consists of being free to watch his fellows of the same craft work.

Sergeant McGee was an exceedingly droll chap. He spent a couple of weeks with a French cousin who was also an aviator, and in time came to know the jolly members of the Lafayette Escadrille. He grew to be exceedingly fond of them all, and was in the mess-room nearly every night.

His idea was that they should get up a show to pass these dull evenings away. If the enemy allowed them sufficient time they could even give a public performance, and give the proceeds to the Red Cross.

It took like wild-fire with the Americans, casting about at the time for some way to kill dull care, and make the hours pass more quickly until called to action again.

A survey developed the fact that there were a number in and out of the Lafayette Escadrille who possessed a talent of some kind or other. This one had a violin which he loved to play; and, while not a finished artist, he was able to make real and lovely music by means of his c1ever bow. Another, it turned out, had a good tenor voice, and knew many of the most popular songs of the day. A third showed a talent for mimicking well known people, particularly Americans of national fame. Several agreed to black up, and give a humorous little minstrel skit that they declared would set the house in a roar.

It was Barney McGee himself who most astonished the Americans, however. At the first rehearsal he appeared before their astonished eyes dressed to imitate a well known and popular moving picture star and he carried out the part in a fashion that caused the wildest excitement. From that moment the success of the show was assured.

They made feverish preparations, for no one could tell just when the period of inaction would come to an end, and every available member of the several fraternizing escadrilles be ordered to rush to the front again, to take his life in his hands, and risk it hourly for the great cause.

Tom and Jack both had parts in the entertainment. Jack made a good "bones" for the minstrels, and he coaxed his chum to don a burnt-cork face for that one evening, and show what he could do as a comedian of parts.

They found a building in Bar-le-Duc that could be used, and which would hold a respectable sized audience. Little preparation was needed save to build a stage and get seating arrangements. Where chairs were not available benches had to take their place. Lights were also provided, and what few accessories they needed, such as curtains and stage scenery, were improvised after a fashion.

In the spirit of fun that prevailed "any old thing went," as Jack expressed it. The makeshifts that came to light when the performers appeared dressed for their various parts were many and startling. They had borrowed or begged anything that promised to answer the purpose from a long-tailed French coat to a lady's highly colored shawl. Wigs had been sent for, and Paris had responded with an assortment that left nothing to be desired.

The members of the two French air squadrons whose headquarters were near by had entered into the affair with great zest. They blessed the little Irish pilot for his suggestion. And Sergeant Barney McGee was on the jump all day long, displaying all the sterling traits that distinguish able generals and leaders of men.

The time approached when the entertainment was to come off. The performers were sure of a full house, provided no war orders were issued that would interfere with the arrangements.

"Since Fritz has kept quiet for so many dreary days now," one pilot was heard to say on the morning of the entertainment, "let us hope we'll have just one more peaceful evening to reap the reward of all this training. It would break the heart of Sergeant Barney if the order came for every one to buckle down to hard work just when his big show is about to come off."

The weather man proved friendly, for he gave them a splendid day, with the promise of a moonlight night. Besides, the cold had pretty well vanished, and it was really becoming more seasonable, with the sun warming the earth, and the mud drying up to a considerable extent.

When the show opened that night it was to a house jammed to the doors. Even the windows were utilized for seating room; and crowds stood without, unable to gain admittance.

"Some crowd, eh?" remarked Jack, as he watched the airmen, soldiers and others pouring in.

"I should say so!" cried Tom. "I hope we make good."

It was certainly a unique performance, considering the fact that it was given in a camp close to the battle lines; and that at any hour every one of those who were dressed so fancifully and conducted themselves as actors born to the stage, might be called on to mount to the clouds, and perform their dangerous work of fighting for France, perhaps even giving up their lives.

Loud applause greeted every individual act. The violin music drew tears from eyes unused to weeping, because the strains of "Way Down Upon the Suwannee River," "Home, Sweet Home," and other loved airs tenderly and beautifully played, as they were, carried the Americans back again to those near and dear, those whom they might never again see on this earth.

The songs were rapturously applauded, and the singers forced to give encore after encore. One youth who played the part of a little maid from school, and sang in a sweet soprano voice, caused the greatest enthusiasm of the evening; but then everything seemed to make a decided hit.

Tom and Jack, as members of the minstrel troupe, did their parts well, though neither professed to be a star of the first magnitude. They certainly enjoyed seeing and hearing the others go through with their appointed tasks. As for Sergeant Barney McGee, he drew the house down every time he appeared on the stage in his quaint dress, and with the famous walk that is the trade-mark of the character whom he represented.

Two thirds of the entire show was soon carried out. Indeed, the rest was to be more or less a repetition of preceding acts, though the pleased audience seemed eager to sit for another hour, and applaud each turn vigorously and uproariously.

However, it was not fated that the evening should pass entirely without some interruption. Afterwards the actors, and those who had enjoyed the performance from in front, agreed that they had been exceedingly lucky as it was, and that "half a loaf was much better than no bread at all."

Those whose turns were finished remained, of course, as part of the audience. Some of the black-faced artists lingered in the so-called "wings" to watch what was going on, desirous of getting all the fun possible out of the evening.

It was not a case of "eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die;" but "have all the happy times you can, fellows, while the going is good, for to-morrow we fight."

Sergeant Barney McGee was on again, and the audience was convulsed with laughter over his ludicrous antics. He appeared to be a born actor and mimic; and had they not known otherwise Tom and Jack could have declared that the comedian who was under contract with an American film company, and doubtless in California making pictures at that moment, had been suddenly transported to the French fighting front to entertain the soldiers.

Suddenly the laughter came to a stop. The building in which the show was being held shook as though a violent thunderclap had rocked the earth. This loud detonation that broke upon their hearing, however, was only too familiar to all those army aviators. They understood its dread meaning

The enemy had taken this opportunity to send over a squadron of raiding Fokkers to bomb the hangars of the French and American fliers at Bar-le- Duc!

XII. Clowns On the Wing

BOOM!

What followed that first heavy detonation was very much like a riot. The audience became frantic under the belief that it meant an attack on the town, and that the missiles would presently drop upon the roofs, working destruction to everything around.

It was the actors, however, who were the most exercised. One and all they understood what it meant to them. Their planes were in danger of being demolished! In some way the Teutons must have learned about the entertainment, and realized that almost every Allied pilot would want to attend it. They rightly guessed that for once the guard about the aviation field and numerous hangars where the dozens upon dozens of planes of every description were housed when not in use, would be unusually light. They had also taken advantage of the bright moonlight to make a bold sally over the French lines and reach this distant point undiscovered.

Boom! boom! boom!

Other crashing sounds announced that the enemy machines were busily at work. Each pilot pictured the entire camp under bombardment, with the utmost disaster overtaking the airplanes upon which General Petain was depending so much to serve as the "eyes" of his brave army.

There was a general and maddened rush. Every one wanted to get to the camp in the briefest possible space of time. There was no chance for the actors to change their clothes. They were glad enough of an opportunity to snatch up a heavy fur-lined coat, either their own or some other person's. With this to hide their ludicrous attire, and also give some needed warmth once they went aloft, they hastened to find a waiting car, which, when loaded to its capacity, would be sent like mad along the road to the aviation field.

It was one of the most amazing sights imaginable, to see those pilots, many of whom were world famous, thus garbed. It looked as though some asylum of freaks had opened its doors and allowed the inmates to escape to the highways and byeways.

Only one thought possessed them all, which was to get to the hangars in the shortest possible time. When they arrived each anticipated seeking his particular plane. If that chanced to be out of commission, then commandeering any other, it mattered little whose, so long as they were able to go up, and give battle to the audacious Teuton pilots who had raided their camp at Bar-le-Duc.

"We've got to save our machines!" cried Tom. "Come on!"

"Right you are!" responded Jack.

Tom and Jack were with the rest who found some way to crowd aboard one of the waiting cars that were seized upon to carry the pilots to the field. As they went booming furiously along the road they could still hear those frightful explosions ahead, each one accompanied by a flash as of lightning. The reports were almost deafening.

Eager eyes were turned aloft. The moon shone, but it was difficult to make out so small an object as an airplane at a height of a mile or more without the use of searchlights, and even these were not very efficient on such a night.

Still, some of the pilots believed they could see several enemy planes swooping over at a lower level, possibly, they thought, on the lookout for the procession of cars bearing the aroused Allied aviators to the hangars.

Bang!

A bomb fell not fifty feet away from the car in which the two chums were seated. One of their companions received a trifling wound from the effect of the explosion of the TNT contents of the bomb, said to be the most powerful known for such uses, and handled by the engineers of all the armies, under different names.

If the design of the Boche who swooped down for the purpose of waylaying the cars carrying the French and American airmen was to rob the Allies of the services of a dozen eminent pilots all at once, it failed in execution.

At last the aviators arrived on the scene. It was lively enough, with bombs still bursting here and there. Already considerable damage had been done to some of the hangars.

The Allied pilots were "mad all the way through" at having been caught napping by the foe. They paid no attention to the danger that still hung over their heads, with the enemy's supply of explosives as yet unexhausted. While the dreadful detonations continued, sometimes exceedingly close by, the various pilots seized upon such mechanicians as they could.

One by one the planes rolled along the field and began to climb upward by way of the usual spiral staircase route, to give battle to the enemy, regardless of any superiority in numbers.

Jack was dismayed to discover that his plane was badly wrecked by one of the explosions. Indeed, it was afterwards found that he had to have a new machine, since the repairs necessary to put the old one into service again were too complicated to be done at the front.

Tom was more fortunate. His hangar had also suffered to some extent, but so far as could be seen in a hasty examination his plane was not injured in the least.

He too went up, burnt-corked face and all. There were clowns abroad that night who could give Tom many points in the game, so far as comical looks went, and still easily win the stakes. But all else was forgotten under the spur of the moment, save that each man was eager to get in touch with the Boche pilots who had almost spoiled their one great evening.

But no longer were those crashing detonations coming. This told the story only too well. The Germans had either exhausted their supply of bombs, or else they deemed discretion the better part of valor. They had evidently taken their departure before the first Allied pilot got up to the elevation they had been using in their bombardment.

Nothing could be seen of them, though had the Allied pilots been able to use their ears, which was impossible when their own motors were making such loud noises, they might have heard, in the distance and to the east, the telltale music of Teuton propellers beating the air in a rush for home ports.

A pursuit was organized, and several planes followed the retreating invaders over the entire distance to the front; but it was of no avail. The enemy planes had had too good a start, and were being pushed for all they were worth to get beyond the danger zone.

There had been several accidents at the Bar-le-Duc field, but none of them fatal. This was not at all surprising, considering the haste shown by the pilots to mount and engage the foemen.

Too, several of the planes besides Jack's had been damaged, a circumstance which brought about disaster before the aviator was able to leave the ground.

As the fliers came back one after another, filled with indignation and disappointed hopes, Jack stalked about, with his black face, yet laughed to see what comical pictures most of his fellow aviators made.

By degrees most of them began to realize that the joke was on them, and joined in greeting with noisy shouts each fresh arrival from above. The damage had not been so very serious after all, since most of the Teuton bombs had either failed to explode when aimed true, or else only dug enormous craters in the ground where it did not matter, sometimes even a quarter of a mile away from the hangars. Jack's machine, it was found, was the only one badly damaged.

From that time there was one subject on which American and French pilots were agreed. They must certainly repay their enemy rivals for this visitation. The honors could not continue to be all on one side.

So from that hour every Allied pilot who went far back of the German lines used his glasses diligently, in the endeavor to locate the secret aviation field of the Boche. This would naturally be camouflaged in the customary fashion, at which the Teutons had become almost as proficient as the French; but trust an airman to spy out the lodging place of his kind.

Step by step they learned which direction the enemy planes took in coming to the front, and retiring when through for the day. Thus in good time the hiding place was found. Great was the delight of the whole Lafayette Escadrille when this confidential news was passed about. And, later on, a party of Allied aviators paid a night visit to the German camp, and dropped several tons of high explosives from bombing planes, that were heavily guarded by the fighting Nieuports.

They had reason to believe from what they themselves saw, as well as through a secret report received from a French spy, that their aim had been remarkably fine; and that many times the amount of damage the Germans had done at Bar-le-Duc had been carried out on the reprisal sally.

After that it seemed as though the slate had been wiped clean. Their honor had been fully purged of the stain that had rested on it ever since that dreadful night when they were caught off their guard.

It turned out that the enemy had meant to start an action on the following day, and it had been hoped that the squadron of airmen might so cripple the French service that the advantage would be all on the side of the assailants.

Something happened, however, to balk the plans of the Crown Prince. Perhaps he had a reprimand from his august father and emperor for so recklessly sacrificing such vast numbers of his men in a fruitless assault against the stone-wall defensive of the French army. It may also have been something else that called the attack off, but at any rate it failed of accomplishment.

The stagnation along the front continued; but all this while General Petain was making quiet though effective preparations, in order some day to strike a staggering blow, such as the French had before given, which would take the enemy by surprise, and push him still further back.

Jack was fretting because thus far he had seen so little of real action. Since his Nieuport had been sent away, and another had as yet failed to arrive for his use, he often bewailed his ill-luck. He even assured his chum the "green mould would be growing all over his person if something didn't soon come to pass to break the terrible monotony."

But every lane, however long, must have its turning; and Jack's hour struck at last.

XIII. More Work In Prospect

"Tom, sit down here on this bench, won't you? I want to have a little talk with you about some things that have bothered me a whole lot lately," said Jack, some days after the exciting experiences narrated in the two preceding chapters.

"I can give a pretty good guess what they are, Jack, since I see you staring hard at the slip of paper found attached to the toy balloon which drifted over our lines from somewhere back of the German front."

"Yes; I own up I do sit and look at that paper, Tom. If it could only talk I'd know who penned that warning, and my curiosity'd be satisfied for one thing. But try as hard as I may, I can't be certain whether it was Mrs. Neumann, or somebody else. But I wanted to speak to you about Bessie just now."

"What about her, Jack?" asked Tom, knowing how much his chum was concerned over the unknown fate of the pretty young girl they had met on the Atlantic liner, and who was apparently anything but happy in the charge of her legally appointed guardian, Carl Potzfeldt.

"There are several things she told me, half unwillingly, I admit, that I guess I haven't said anything about to you, Tom."

"Then she confided her secrets to you, eh?" half chuckled Tom; though he saw his chum was in anything but a humorous frame of mind. "I remember you told me she felt very bitter toward all Germans because she had lost her mother when the Lusitania went down."

"Yes. But this had to do with her guardian," Jack continued.

"Oh, I see! Mr. Potzfeldt, Jack? You haven't felt favorably disposed toward that gentleman at any time since first meeting him."

"Neither have you, Tom, to tell the truth!" declared the other quickly. "In fact, as I remember it, both of us were pretty much inclined to believe he was a paid spy of the German Government, working on some line of dark business over in America. Well, he had to clear out in a hurry, Bessie told me."

"Did the authorities get track of his scheming work, and was he in danger of being arrested for plotting against Uncle Sam's interests as a neutral?" Tom asked.

"It may have been that; but Bessie wasn't sure about it. In fact, she seemed inclined to believe her guardian had some secret, which was in danger of being exposed. An old friend of her mother's was interesting himself in the matter. Given time, he might have made it uncomfortable for Carl Potzfeldt; and so the gentleman cleared out between two days."

"Taking Bessie with him!"

"Yes. They made as if to go to Chicago, but instead hurried to New York. When he came aboard at the last call he kept to his cabin for a time, until we were well away from land. There has been considerable of mystery about his actions. Bessie is afraid of him, too. She even hinted that she believed he might have obtained control of her fortune and herself through fraud, and that this was in danger of being found out at the time he cut stick and ran."

"All this is interesting, Jack; but just when and how we're ever going to learn the truth about it I'm unable even to guess. It would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack to try to find Potzfeldt. He and his pretty little ward may be hundreds of miles away from here."

"Perhaps you're right, Tom," mused the other sadly, as he stared afar off toward the north. "I'd be glad of a chance to do something for that poor girl. She is to be greatly pitied, if she's wholly in the power of a man who wouldn't hesitate to do anything, if he saw a chance for gain ahead."

"Well, all you can do, Jack, is to live on and hope a lucky chance will bob up for you. But there's our captain beckoning to me. Perhaps another battle is on the carpet for to-morrow, and I'll be given a look-in again."

"Oh, if the lightning would only strike me too!" sighed Jack, enviously. "Please beg him to figure out something I can do, Tom. If it's only occupying a place aboard an observation plane or taking photographs of the Germans regrouping far back of the lines, I'd gladly welcome it. Anything but sitting here, when all the other pilots are at work."

Tom hurried to join the commander of the Lafayette Escadrille. He had taken a great fancy to the gallant man, and believed this feeling was in a measure returned. Jack, continued to sit and mope. He really felt slighted to be left out when so much thrilling work was being done.

He had put away the well-thumbed scrap of paper with its mysterious lines of warning, for the time being Bessie and all her troubles passing from his mind. Jack was now full of his own affairs. He found himself growing a bit discontented because thus far he had been allowed to do so little for the cause, when his heart was full to overflowing with a desire to assist.

There were aviators going and coming all the time, and surely many of them did not excel him appreciably in talents. Why did not those in charge find something for an ambitious pilot to do? He was striving daily to master the weak spots in his education; and had not the captain himself assured him he was doing bravely? He turned to cast an occasional look toward the spot where Tom and the commander of the air squadron still talked earnestly. Yes, something was certainly "on tap," as Jack expressed it, for he saw the other carefully examining a bit of paper his companion had evidently placed in his hand.

Jack began to be interested. Perhaps after all it might turn out to be something quite different from what Tom had anticipated. Had the captain simply wished to notify the other to be ready to answer a call on the following morning, surely he need not have taken all this time; nor would he have given Tom that paper, undoubtedly carrying explicit instructions.

How the minutes dragged! Jack thought it an eternity before he saw Tom and the captain separate. He was glad to notice that his chum once more headed in the direction of the spot where they had been seated on a bench back of the long row of frame buildings used for permanent hangars at the Bar-le- Duc aviation field.

Yes, Tom had evidently been told something that pleased him very much. His smile admitted the fact, and Jack knew by now just how to read the face of his comrade so as to get a good idea of what was passing in his mind.

"Looks like good news, Tom," he cried out, for motors were rattling and throbbing, mechanicians and helpers, as well as pilots, calling to one another, and all manner of sounds combining to make a great racket.

Tom shrugged his shoulders in a non-committal way, which might mean a whole lot, and again might express a small fraction of disappointment.

"Yes, I've been given a job, if that's what you mean," he admitted, as he dropped down once more on the bench alongside Jack, and threw one leg over the other.

"More fighting to-morrow, possibly?" queried Jack, anxiously. But he found his curiosity further whetted when Tom shook his head in the negative.

"Not necessarily this time, it seems," he went on to say; "though of course you never can tell what you'll strike when once you pass fifty miles, more or less, behind the enemy front."

Jack pursed his lips up as if about to whistle, but he made no sound. It was only a visible indication of surprise on his part— surprise, and an eager desire to know just what his chum was so slow in telling him.

"Another bombing raid, then, is it?"

"Never a bomb going along this time," came the puzzling answer. "Nor is there going to be a big bunch of planes starting out. I'm to be the only pilot in the game this time, Jack."

"You're knocking me silly with that, Tom," protested the other young aviator. "I can see the twinkle in your eyes, as if you were holding something back, so as to tantalize me. Are you free to tell me what this business of yours it is the captain has just handed over to you?"

"Oh, surely, Jack. He told me I could take one fellow into my confidence, and no more. So I mean to tell you all about it."

Tom turned and cast a careful look around They were not very close to any of the hangars, it happened; and none of the many helpers and attendants could possibly overhear what was said, with all that clatter constantly going on.

"I guess it's perfectly safe for me to talk here, Jack, and not give the thing away. You know it does seem that the German spies are able to penetrate nearly everywhere, and pick up all sorts of valuable information, to send across the line in any one of a dozen different ways."

"Yes. But go on, Tom."

"It seems there is need of some one to go to-night to a particular place far back of the German lines— in fact, close to the fortified city of Metz itself. In a certain place, inside a hollow post, will be found a paper marked in cipher, and containing much valuable information which has been collected by one of the ablest of the French spies. He is really a native of Alsace-Lorraine, and well thought of by the Germans. As it is utterly out of the question for him to report in person, he has adopted this way of getting his news to General Petain. And as there is a scarcity of pilots capable of doing this work our captain has selected me to undertake it for the cause."

"But Tom, I should have thought he would have picked out some one more familiar with the ground back there. How can you find your way to that particular place, if you've never been there before?"

"I've been given directions that are bound to take me right," Tom assured his worried chum. "There was a man they used for this purpose, and several times he's brought back the papers; but on his last trip he had the misfortune to run into a bunch of cruising Fokkers, and they brought him down. He fell fortunately inside the French lines, so his papers were saved; but Francois will never handle the controls of a plane again. He was killed."

"Then there is danger in the game!"

"Certainly there is. But in these times who could dream of passing so far back of the German front without expecting to be in constant peril? The papers will be put in a little box previously prepared. Should disaster overtake us, it will be flung overboard, and before it reaches the ground everything will have been consumed by the fire that follows."

Jack's eyes began to glitter.

"Just so, Tom! But I notice that you used the plural pronoun when you spoke. Then you do not go on this mission alone?"

"No, that's right. I have been given permission to pick out my one companion, for there will be two of us aboard the plane to-night."

Jack tried to keep calm, but it was indeed difficult, and his voice faltered more or less as he hurriedly went on to say:

"Have you already made your selection?"

"Yes," the other assured him in his tantalizing way. "I wanted to know whether the captain approved of my choice; which I am glad to say turned out to be the case."

Jack gulped something down, and then blurted out:

"Did you mention my name at all, Tom?"

"Yours was the only one I had in mind; and Jack, rest easy, you're going along with me to-night to glimpse the lights of Metz!"

XIV. Off On a Daring Mission

The two air service boys fell to talking earnestly concerning what they should take with them, and how to study a map which their captain had promised to put in Tom's hands immediately.

This was not of the ordinary kind, but so definitely marked for just such an emergency that even a novice could probably find his way to Metz, granting that he possessed the necessary qualifications of an air pilot.

Presently a messenger came with a package for Tom. This proved to be the chart from the commander of the air squadron. Tom was to make as good a copy as was in his power, for the original was too valuable to risk losing.

Jack understood that there were several reasons for having Tom do this. In the first place his work on the chart would familiarize the young aviator with its every detail, and fix things firmly in his mind. Then again, if they were lost, and never returned, the priceless chart for night voyaging over the enemy's lines would be at least safe.

Daring men had gone forth on similar desperate errands before then, and had never been heard from again. It is the fortune of war. Those who indulge in enterprises that border on the sensational must always expect to sup with deadly peril.

When the evening meal was announced the two chums were already deep in the work. Of course not a whisper of their intended mission was breathed at the table. No one dreamed of their contemplated trip. The customary chatter and good-natured badinage flowed during the whole supper-time. While some of the American aviators had received wounds in recent engagements there had been no chair vacant for some little time now; and hence no gloom rested on the escadrille. From the table the boys again went to their room.

"How far is Metz from Verdun?" asked Jack, as they labored to complete their preparations for departure.

"Not over forty miles, I should say, as the crow flies, Jack. I've never been over the route, but it can be measured on this copy of the map."

"And that's the direct line we expect to cover, of course?"

"We'll head due east."

"And as it'll be densely dark when we start I guess we needn't mount to ten thousand feet to pass over the enemy lines, eh, Tom?"

"There'll really be little need," came the reply, showing that the pilot had already figured all this out. "At the same time we ought to keep far enough out of range to avoid being struck by stray shrapnel."

"Will they bombard us, do you think?" demanded Jack.

"Oh, that's to be expected," said Tom indifferently. "You see the men who man the anti-aircraft guns are constantly on the alert. They're bound to hear the whirr of our propeller as we pass over, no matter how high we soar. The searchlight will spot us out, and then they'll do their best to make things uncomfortable for the pair of us. But the chances are ten thousand to one against our being hit."

"You said our course would be due east, didn't you?"

"I'll change that assertion a bit, Jack; we start east after we're well across the front, and away from the dazzling searchlight business. In the beginning we'll point the nose of our big machine toward the north."

"So as to deceive the watchers, of course," remarked Jack.

"That's what the game is."

Jack's eyes sparkled. He was always proud of his chum's clever reasoning powers, and believed Tom could hold his own with any one with regard to mapping out a promising plan.

Their preparations completed, the two air service boys lay down to secure a little rest. As they were not to start until some time after midnight, Tom believed they should secure a few hours of sleep. The moon was a late one, and would not rise, even with a midnight start, until they were well back of the enemy lines.

An alarm-clock aroused them at the appointed time. Tom immediately shoved the noisy thing under his blankets before it could wake up the entire house, and set people wondering what was happening that any one should want to be aroused at such an unseemly hour.

It was terribly black outside. Jack pressed his nose against the window and took a look, even while hurriedly finishing his dressing. Tom had taken the precaution to put a fresh battery in his little hand electric torch, which he believed would prove to be worth its weight in gold.

Arriving at their destination, the boys quickly found their two-seater aircraft awaiting their coming. Quite a crowd stood around, and made guesses concerning the possible reason for the captain's order that this plane should be made ready for a journey, with enough supplies of gasolene and oil aboard to cover any ordinary emergency.

Tom took no chances. He believed the attendants had faithfully carried out all directions, but to make doubly sure he looked over things himself. It was his life and Jack's that were at stake, and not those of the attendants; so he persisted in testing this and that thing until he felt certain everything was as it should be.

"Is it time we started, Tom?" asked his companion, when this procedure had resulted satisfactorily.

"We'll wait just ten minutes more," he was told. "I've figured everything down to a fraction, and expect to proceed by clock-work. We want to be well over the line before the moon peeps up. After that we can loaf a bit, and let the old lady get a little way above the horizon. That's so we may have the benefit of her light when we want to land."

The minutes passed slowly. Meanwhile the crowd increased, every man who chanced to be abroad at that hour of the night gathering to see the two Americans start on their mysterious errand. All sorts of guesses were indulged in, many of them of the wildest character. Jack hearing some of this talk, which he half understood, was convulsed in silent laughter over the remarkable ideas that seemed to possess the minds of those French mechanicians and hostlers.

IGN=Justify› Finally Tom stood up.

"It's time!" he said simply, and Jack understood without any further explanation. He at once proceeded to climb into his seat and complete his simple preparations for the work in hand, being already fully dressed in his fur-lined garments, and with his warm hood and goggles in place.

A minute afterwards Tom called out the word that started the propellers whirling. The motor took up the refrain, and hummed merrily, as though glad to be busy again. Then they were pushed along for a start, gathering momentum so quickly that the mechanicians dropped back to watch the dark object vanish almost wholly from their sight along the level field.

Both boys noticed the great difference between this two-seater and their own active little Nieuports. How clumsy this machine was, and how slow to answer to the call of the pilot! Yet it would be far better for their purpose than two of the small aircraft, since it allowed them to be together.

ify› The few lights of the aviation field near Bar-le-Duc had faded almost entirely out of sight by the time Tom turned to the north and headed for Verdun. True, he might have pointed the nose of the airplane directly east, and saved considerable distance, but there were good reasons for not doing this.

To cross the German lines further south would surely convince the Teutons that the aviators were heading for the vicinity of Metz, which was just what Tom did not wish to have happen. Then again, his chart covered only the direct line between Verdun and the fortified city of Lorraine that forty-odd years back had been French territory, before the Germans seized it as spoils after the war that made France a republic for the third time.

XV. The Moonlight Flight

The time for talking had passed. With the motor working noisily, and the twin propellers churning the air, they could hardly have heard the discharge of one of the Big Berthas', as the Allies were wont to call the monster Krupp guns, and so called them because a woman whose maiden name had been Bertha Krupp, owned a big interest in the works where they were manufactured.

All was dark around and below them. Above the stars shone, and gave a small amount of cold, cheery light. Tom had made a study of the heavens, and was able to steer by means of the stars. The aviator is often as much dependent on compass and heavenly bodies to shape his course as the sailor hundreds of miles away from land.

="i"› Tom was in no especial hurry. He had carefully thought out his plans, and meant to pass over Verdun at just a certain time. Then would come the two lines of hostile trenches, and the ordeal of searchlights and shrapnel. Once that was done with, they had really little further to fear.

The minutes slipped away. Under ordinary conditions they were accustomed to making that thirty miles in just about half that number of minutes, thanks to the ability of the speedy Nieuports to cover distance. It would be twice that now before they would find themselves at the front.

Already they could see various signs to tell them they were drawing near. Rockets used as signals of various kinds ascended at intervals, and burst. Others of the star variety, and which discharged glowing white electric balls that lighted the earth below, could also be seen. One side or the other apparently had some reason for desiring to scrutinize a special sector of terrain in No-Man's-Land, the disputed region lying between the hostile trenches.

Jack used his eyes to advantage. These things had not yet grown stale with him, for he still found himself filled with awe and wonder when gazing down from a lofty height at the world shrouded in darkness below.

There within a comparatively short distance, that might not be over twenty miles, a round million of soldiers were gathered, armed with numberless engines of destruction of the most ponderous nature imaginable. It was enough to give any one a genuine thrill, and Jack felt such a sensation creeping over him.

The crucial time had now come. They were passing over the line of the French trenches. Jack knew this from various signs, and also that in another minute they might expect to be spotted by some of the enemy searchlights. These would be unmasked, and trained on the heavens in the effort to locate the cause of that well known clattering noise above.

This speedily came about. First one long shaft of dazzling light rushed back and forth; then others joined in the hunt, until presently they focussed on the progressing two-seater pushing north.

Then began the bombardment. Numerous anti-aircraft guns were poking their noses upward in anticipation of just such a call. Their crews commenced to shower the shrapnel around and below the bird of passage, whose mission, whatever it might prove to be, could mean only evil to the Teuton cause.

All this racket was lost upon the two so far above the earth. They heard nothing of the bleat of the firing guns. Even the bursting of shrapnel went unheeded, save at a time when a shell exploded close by, and was faintly heard.

Tom was wisely taking but little chance. He maintained an altitude that prevented most of the shrapnel from coming anywhere near the plane.

They crossed the enemy front, and sped on. The bombardment diminished in fury as they left the first and second line trenches behind them. It was continued to some extent from an elevation further back, but as Tom knew of this formation, and had crept up still higher, no accident happened to them.

At last the air service boys were fully launched on their night voyage through the upper currents. Tom waited until he considered that it was really safe to change their course. He did not want to betray his movements in case some daring Boche pilot started up in a swift Fokker machine to pursue them.

Once he shut off the engines and volplaned down a thousand feet or more. This was done because it was intensely cold up where they were; and the reasons that had kept them at such a high altitude existed no longer. Then again Tom wished to listen to discover if there was another aircraft near them; and this could be done only when his motor was silent.

"No pursuit, Jack!" he managed to call to his chum before they once more straightened out, and again allowed the motor to send forth its loud hum.

Jack had no chance to make any sort of reply. It did not matter, for he, too, had eagerly listened, and had failed to catch any telltale sound.

Immediately Tom shaped a new course, No longer were they heading toward the north by east, but directly east. There some forty miles, more or less, away, lay the city of Metz, the object of their mission.

After moving along in this fashion for a short time Tom drove his machine more slowly. He was watching for the rising of the old moon. ahead, where the horizon was already lighted with her near approach.

How strange she looked peering above the edge of the world as though curious to see all that was going on in this troubled hemisphere. Jack thought he had never witnessed a more peculiar spectacle. But at least this fragment of a moon would be likely to afford them the necessary illumination required when they attempted to land in a field that neither of them had ever seen before, and only knew through information imparted by means of their chart, and its accompanying notes.

Some other pilot had doubtless been over this same route on previous occasions; yes, and even landed in that identical field. He had made the chart; and the accompanying memoranda consisted of his personal experiences.

Already the moon had dispelled some of the cheerless gloom round about them. It was still cold up in that upper strata of rarefied air; but their fur-lined garments kept them from suffering. Besides this, they were young and vigorous, and their blood was warm, and they were excited with their mission and able to ignore any physical discomfort that might come to them.

Jack continued to stare ahead as time passed. He was looking for some sign of the city towards which they were flying. Tom, on his part, often took note of his compass, then flashed a glance up at the stars, and finally sought to discover some landmark far down below that was marked upon the chart.

He had the utmost confidence in his own judgment, and believed he would bring up at the identical place which was their goal.

Tom now volplaned again, wishing to draw nearer to the earth. It was while thus dropping, with engine muffled, that his ears caught a sound calculated to give him an uneasy feeling.

This was undoubtedly the whirr of a propeller beating the air in furious fashion. It also came from behind. Jack, too, had caught the sound, and was thrilled with sudden apprehension of impending trouble.

They were undoubtedly being pursued, and by a much faster plane than their own. This would mean that presently they would be overtaken and fired upon. It was not in the nature of Tom Raymond to allow such a thing to occur and be kept from doing his share of the fighting.

When Tom swung around to face the rear, and actually started to run toward the oncoming foe, Jack knew what was expected of him. He must man the gun, and prove how well he had learned his lesson when at school at Pau and at Casso.

No longer could they expect to be guided by sounds. Their own motor thundered so loudly that every other sound was deadened. They must depend on eyesight alone to tell them when they were nearing the oncoming Fokker craft. Perhaps the first indication they would have of its presence would be the flash of its quick-firing gun, spattering bullets around them like hail.

So Jack strained his vision to the limit. He was eager to discover the enemy before they themselves were seen. Much might depend on who fired first, in a duel of this kind. Suddenly the gun began to bark after its own peculiar way. Jack believed he had glimpsed something moving, and was sending forth a storm of lead in the hope of a lucky hit that would crumple the other machine up and put an end to that peril.

Tom held the course. He knew that every second was carrying the rival airplanes nearer together— knew that possibly they were so headed that if they continued to rush forward they might smash in a frightful collision that would send both down thousands of feet to the earth.

It was a time for careful calculations and prompt action. Tom gripped the controls and was ready either to swerve or to dip as occasion demanded. Meanwhile, Jack was doing his best to riddle the advancing Boche machine and its pilot.

There was no longer any difficulty in seeing just where the Fokker was, for a constant flashing as her gun rattled betrayed its position exactly. The flying lead was now whistling all about the two air service boys but they did not know how close they sailed to death.

Then Tom swung smartly to the right. He dared not keep on longer in his course lest he collide with the German craft. Just about the same instant he realized that the Fokker was diving. There was something queer about that manoeuvre. Tom had never known a French or an American nor yet a British airman to adopt such a clumsy way of plunging so as to avoid punishment.

Circling around he started back on a little lower level, looking for the enemy. In making his latest volplane Tom had listened intently, hoping to ascertain whether the motor of the enemy craft still throbbed somewhere close by; but he heard not a sound to tell the story.

Just then, suspicious of the truth, he glanced down, and was just in time to see a little flash of flame arise from the distant surface of the earth. Then the awful truth broke upon both boys. They realized that the German pilot had lost control of his machine, which had turned over and over in its drop, finally crashing to the ground, and being instantly enveloped in flames!

XVI. Landing Close To Metz

Tom had his hands full in trying to get back to his course again. Naturally, in the excitement attending the duel in midair he could not pay attention to where he was going. It was easy enough to shape his line of flight by the aid of the stars and his compass, but he had also to catch certain landmarks below, that would serve to guide him.

Fortune favored him in that he quickly sighted the lights of a town; and this gave him the bearings he sought. His mind freed from further anxiety concerning this matter, he pushed on once more.

When presently he became aware of the presence of more lights Jack gave Tom the signal agreed on between them to mark such a circumstance. Then the pilot again commenced to drop to lower levels by a series of easy volplanes.

Like a huge bird the airplane swept along, now close to earth. Had one of the peasants who lived in that region chanced to be aroused by the rattle of the propeller and thrust his head out of his cottage door, he must have gazed in awe to see the vast shadowy form come between him and the starry heavens, with the light of the moon silvering its extended wings.

One trip failed to show them just what they wanted, and so Tom, knowing that the field must be somewhere in that immediate neighborhood, immediately swung around and started in again.

The second search failed to bring success. Jack began to experience a sensation akin to dismay. Was their work doomed to meet with no result and would they find themselves compelled to start back to Verdun without having accomplished the important errand on which they had been dispatched?

It was not Tom Raymond's way to feel discouraged because things did not always go as he wished from the start. He believed in the old motto, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again." And he would circle around that vicinity for a full hour if only in the end he might find that for which he searched.

Three times however, was the limit. Then Tom felt certain he had "struck pay dirt"; and that the opening lying below was the identical field to which he had been directed.

After that it resolved itself into a simple landing by moonlight. There were no ready mechanicians waiting to lend a hand; and everything must be done by the pilot and his assistant. But then, all war aviators must be able to make ordinary repairs if necessary, and do other duties that usually they allow the mechanics to perform.

Tom brought the heavy machine to the earth softly. It was fine work he did, considering the fact that it was unfamiliar ground he was striking and the moonlight was far from strong.

They jolted along a short distance, and then came to a full stop. Jack was the first to spring out. His first thought was of the strangeness of being on German soil, far back of the fighting lines, and within a few miles of Metz, a city of prime importance.

Hardly had they landed when the air service boys found themselves listening to sounds that seemed significant. Plainly came reports of firearms and of loud shouting, as of excited men.

"What do you think that row means, Tom?" asked Jack, as they stood listening with quickened hearts.

"It's hard to say," the other replied. "They may be having a riot of some kind over in the city. But I'm afraid it is more apt to have something to do with our presence here."

"Do you mean they've seen our dropping down and that there may be soldiers on the way here to see what we're up to?" asked Jack.

"That may turn out to be the truth of it. But we mustn't lose any more time. What we want now is that paper. Jack, remember that we arranged it so you'd stay with the plane, while I hurried off to get it."

"All right, Tom; only I wish you'd let me go along. Then if anything happened we'd be together, anyhow."

"It's better for you to stay here. I'll be gone only a few minutes if everything turns out O.K."

Tom turned and ran across the field. Jack stared after him until he lost track of the runner in the misty moonlight. Then he occupied himself in listening to that clamor and wondering whether it was really getting closer, or if his fears only made him think so.

There was certainly a big noise. Men continued to shout, and guns were being discharged, but not so frequently as before. Perhaps this latter was done by nervous guardians of the Lorraine city, who on first hearing the racket took it for granted that it meant an airplane attack, and were therefore starting in to bombard the skies, discovering hostile fliers in every lurking fleecy cloud.

Yes, Jack was positive now that those who shouted to one another must be coming out of the city, and heading for the big field where Tom had dropped down.

"Like as not," Jack told himself, "some wisebody has discovered that airplanes have been using this ground for alighting. When they had word that an enemy machine was heading this way they just naturally concluded it might drop down here. I guess our little fight up aloft was heard and understood by some one on guard. I hope Tom will soon get back here, that's what!"

Tom had been gone several minutes, and Jack tried to pierce the misty light beyond in the endeavor to discover some sign of his returning. His uneasiness increased, and with reason, for the noise was drawing perilously near.

Jack tried to figure out what his plan of campaign should be in case a motley mob of citizens and soldiers suddenly appeared in view, carrying lanterns, and perhaps blazing torches.

True, he had his automatic pistol with him, but what would that puny weapon avail when pitted against a score or two of enemies; many of them armed soldiers of the Kaiser, who would ruthlessly fill him with lead at the first show of resistance on his part?

Would it be better policy for him to slip away and conceal himself in case they did arrive before Tom returned?

But had not Tom explicitly told him to stay on guard over the airplane until he came back? Jack drew in a fresh breath. He threw back his shoulders aggressively and his mind was made up. He would stick it out, no matter at what cost. If the Boches wanted that plane they would have to fight for it, that was all.

He had his pistol out now, and was fondling it as a child would a pet toy. So far Jack had fired the weapon only at targets, but he had the reputation of being a good shot. He believed he could make every bullet it contained tell.

Then what about the mitrailleuse aboard the plane? Was it not possible to train it on the advancing host, and give them such a hot reception that they would break and race madly for shelter?

He knew the gun was fixed to shoot straight ahead. This was the custom with all those who went up in airplanes. To attempt to fire any other way would imperil the stability of the plane, and in many cases bring about sudden disaster.

Jack fumbled for the fastenings of the airplane mitrailleuse, it being his intention to swing the gun free, so that he could turn its muzzle in any quarter desired. But it had been too well secured in place for such a quick delivery, and presently he gave the idea up as a bad one.

No Tom yet! Things certainly were taking on a dark hue, and it looked as though desperate trouble might be in store for the two chums. Jack almost believed he could see dancing lights coming along what might be a road. He looked again, and no longer had any doubt on that score.

"Well, a fellow can die only once, and after all what does it matter whether he meets his end by falling ten thousand feet from the clouds or in trying to hold off an angry mob of Teuton soldiers and citizens of Metz who are in sympathy with the methods of the Kaiser?" Jack's reflections served to give him courage. There was the leading one of the mob, starting across the dimly lighted field! Jack set his jaws hard, and determined that he would wait until the other had come close up. Ammunition was much too precious to be wasted without results following.

He was soon glad he had made such a sensible resolution, for as the runner drew closer something familiar about his figure and methods of leaping told Jack it was none other than Tom.

"Get aboard in a hurry, after you've given the propellers a swing!" cried Tom, almost breathless himself after such a sharp run. "I've got what I wanted."

He was already in his place with his hand on the control.

"Tell me when, Tom!" sang out Jack.

"Cut loose!" ordered the pilot.

The propellers spun, and the motors commenced their furious throbbing. Jack swung aboard, and at once the plane started to roll along the field, even as men appeared, bursting into view on one side, and shouting harshly as they realized how close they had come to catching those they sought.

XVII. More Trouble For the Chums

It had been a close call for the two air service boys. Had they been delayed just a minute or two longer escape might have been impossible. And to have been caught with the spy's paper of information in their possession might have proved a very serious matter.

Some of the mob, that had come from Metz itself, were German soldiers. They carried guns with which they opened a hot fire on the departing plane.

Again the lucky star of Tom and Jack seemed to be in the ascendant, for they did not receive even a scratch. Later they found reason to believe that a number of the leaden missiles had come very close to their persons: for the marks upon the body of the plane itself, as well as the tiny holes in the stout linen covering of the wings, told where bullets had passed. Possibly, though, these had come from the rapid-fire gun handled by the Boche airman.

The plane had left the ground and started to mount when this shooting occurred, so that the marksmen had at least had a fair target at which to fire. But as the departing airplane was speeding away from them the rapidly increasing distance may have disconcerted the Germans. At any rate they failed to bag their game.

The boys were now mounting upwards again, filled with joy over their recent escape. Jack felt sure that Tom had the precious paper; for he well knew the other would never have returned so quickly had not success rewarded his search.

They were soon heading directly for their distant base. Tom could not give his aerial steed the rein, and get all the speed possible out of the cumbersome two-seater. There was no longer any necessity for "loafing on the job," to allow a tardy moon to come in sight, as had been the case before. Home, and at top speed, was the slogan now.

But, alas! it was not long before Tom realized that something was wrong with the plane. He found it increasingly difficult to manage the engine, and the machine began to give erratic jumps that alarmed Jack.

Had it been possible to make himself heard above the clatter of the motor and the propeller, Jack would have been much inclined to shout out, and ask his more experienced comrade what had happened.

Still he could give a shrewd guess. One of the bullets fired by the Teuton soldiers must have struck some part of the motor, and done enough damage to make its workings exceedingly erratic. If such were the case, would it be wise for them to try to push on at this high altitude, where a sudden collapse would mean death for both of the occupants of the disabled plane?

Tom soon shut the motor off, and tilted the machine for a volplane down several thousand feet to a new level.

Jack held his breath. This was partly because the wind rushed at him in a vicious fashion while they were plunging downward, and also on account of a new fear that clutched his heart.

How about the wings of the airplane standing the strain when Tom suddenly brought that volplane to a stop and tried to sail on an even keel again? Would they hold out? Or had some defect occurred in them which could also be charged to the spattering bullets fired by the Metz mob?

Then Jack breathed easier again.

The thing had been accomplished, and they were once more speeding onward, as Tom touched the controls that started the motor working. All then was well, as far as they had gone. Apparently they could by successive stages descend close to the treetops, and skim along until some favorable open space showed, into which a skillful pilot would find it possible to drop lightly and land.

A second volplane further added to Jack's peace of mind. They were now half-way down, and all seemed well. The earth loomed up below, although as yet it took on only a vague, misty effect, due to the weak moonlight.

Jack busied himself in trying to make things out, as for the third time the nose of the heavy observation Caudron was suddenly pointed downward, and they took the next "header."

This time Tom dropped a greater distance. When once more the loud hum of motor and propellers was heard they had almost reached the treetops. Jack gave one gulp, in fear lest his pilot could not make things work as he intended, and that they must crash to the earth while descending at such frightful speed.

Now everything was all right. They could not be more than a thousand feet above the floor of the valley they were following in their homeward route. If anything happened surely Tom would find some way of making a landing, even if a clumsy one that would put their machine out of the running and leave them stranded on enemy soil.

They continued to move along slowly, both looking eagerly to discover signs that would invite a possible landing. It looked as though they were in the country; at least they did not discover any signs of lights to indicate the presence of houses near by.

Soon a landing proved feasible, as they came to just the kind of open plot the air service boys yearned to discover. To make absolutely certain before committing himself, Tom circled the ground twice, and even dropped lower and lower while so doing, all the while straining his vision to the utmost.

Then the thing was done.

That was far from a pleasant landing. It shook them up considerably; but Jack was of the opinion that no damage resulted to the airplane, which after all was just then the main consideration.

Both of them leaped to the ground, after which Tom secured his electric hand-torch which he had found useful so many times while on the outward trip and he wished to consult the compass or the register of the barograph.

"I guess there's some sort of a house near by," said Jack, "because a rooster crowed over yonder. Yes, I can see what looks like the line of a road, too. I suppose it runs the entire length of this valley.

While Jack was saying this softly the pilot had started to take an inventory of the motor. His now practiced eye ran along this and that part, each of which was so essential to the smooth running of the engine. Tom too had already formed a pretty clear idea as to where he was likely to find the damage, and hence was able in a short time to give a satisfied grunt.

"Located the trouble, have you, Tom?" queried the other.

"Yes. It's right where I expected to find it. A bullet has made a dent that interferes with the free action of the part. Besides, I think that spark plug has become fouled with oil, and will have to be changed to get the best results."

"How lucky you brought another with you! Lots of fellows wouldn't have bothered about such a little thing."

"I had my suspicions about that when we started," explained the other, "even though the mechanician assured me it was perfectly clean. I know different now, and will certainly give him a piece of my mind when we get back."

"Then you expect to get home safely, do you?" asked Jack, in a relieved tone, that proved how anxious he had been growing since troubles had so consecutively alighted on them.

"Surely," chuckled the other, with his usual confidence in voice and manner, "a thing like this isn't going to stop our plans. Here in this retired spot nobody's apt to bother us while we make our repairs. You can hold this torch, Jack, and shove the light squarely on the work."

Tom worked for some time. He tapped as gently as possible when knocking out the dent made by the bullet, and he gradually removed the cause of the trouble. He was just finishing with the spark-plug when the confidence of the air service boys received a sudden jolt.

XVIII. The Lone House By the Roadside

"Listen, Tom!" hissed Jack.

The other had just sighed with relief on completing the work of replacing the spark plug that had become fouled with oil.

"I, too, heard it plainly, Jack!" he breathed.

"Was it someone screaming or sobbing?" asked the other breathlessly.

"Sounded like it to me."

"And either a woman or a girl, at that!" hazarded his chum in bewilderment.

"It might have been a boy," suggested Tom. "There it is again."

Both of them listened. Peculiar sensations crept over them as they stood and thus strained their ears to catch any further sounds. Sobbing at any time is enough to arouse the feelings of a sensitive nature; but heard in the dead of night, and under the conditions that surrounded the two young aviators, made it all the more thrilling.

Jack in particular was touched to the heart.

"Say, that's a queer thing, Tom!" he muttered. "Why should anybody be crying or screaming like that away off here, and at this time of night?"

"Oh, there are many who are weeping in these dark days," said Tom gravely. "The men in myriads of families will never come home again. Perhaps a mother, or it may be a sister, has just had word that son, father, or brother has been shot down in battle."

Jack shuddered. Why should his thoughts instantly fly to the Boche pilot whom they had met and fought and conquered while on the way to Metz on their present perilous mission? It had been a fair fight, and a case of their lives or his. Nevertheless Jack shuddered as he remembered how the other had gone down after that last exchange of gunfire.

"Tom, notice that it comes from almost the identical direction where I told you I heard the crowing of a rooster a while ago," he hastened to say, more to rid his mind of those ghastly thoughts than anything else.

What a strange fatality if this should be the home of the unfortunate Teuton pilot of that Fokker machine, and the one who mourned was his mother or a young sister, or perhaps his wife!

"That means there's a house not far away, possibly an estate of some kind," mused Tom, as though turning over some sudden project in his mind.

Jack guessed what his chum was thinking about.

"Tom," he said softly, when for the third time they caught the heart- rending, half stifled sobs coming on the still night air.

"What do you want now, Jack?"

"I was just wondering whether you'd agree to something," continued the other, in a persuasive tone. "We're not in any great hurry, are we?"

"Well, no, perhaps not, Jack; though I'd like to deliver the paper into the hands of our commander as soon as possible. It is probably of the utmost importance, you know."

"I can't help thinking how I'd feel, Tom, if my mother or sister were in some great trouble, and fellows who might be in a position to hold out a helping hand considered their own personal safety first."

When Jack said this his voice was husky. Apparently the incident appealed strongly to his emotions. Jack had always been unusually thoughtful in regard to women of whatever age or degree, and would go far out of his way to do one a favor; so it was not strange that he should feel as he did at this time.

Tom was in a mood to be easily persuaded. The plaintive sobs, telling of woe that clutched some one's heart-strings, stirred a responsive chord within him. He, too, remembered those at home. Jack had put a clincher on his argument when he asked what their opinion of a man would be who turned aside and went his own way after hearing a woman or a child crying bitterly.

"All right, then, Jack; perhaps we can spare the time to take a turn around here, and see if we can be of any help," he announced, greatly to the satisfaction of his chum.

"Perhaps some one has been hurt and needs assistance," suggested Jack. "It isn't going to delay us much, and may be of great help to them. Come on— let's be on the move."

Tom was not quite so precipitate as his companion. Caution had a part in his make-up.

"Don't try to rush things, Jack," he said. "I must take a last look over my work here, you know."

"But you said everything was completed, Tom!" persisted the other.

"So it is, but I ought to make doubly sure before we leave the plane," Tom added, as he took the electric hand-torch from his companion and began systematically to look over the engine at which he had been working, carefully examining every detail.

Jack said nothing further. He understood what his chum meant when he declared it important that they should know absolutely the motor was in prime condition for immediate service. Something might occur to necessitate a hurried departure from the vicinity; a detachment of the enemy forces might appear, or other perils hover over their heads that might be laughed at only if they could take to the air without detention.

Tom was not long in doing as he desired. Meanwhile Jack could hear an occasional sob from the same quarter as before, and the sounds continued to exercise a peculiar influence over him which he could not have explained had he been asked.

"I'm ready now, Jack!"

"Glad to hear it," muttered the other, half under his breath; not that he meant to infer Tom had been unduly long, but because his feelings were wrought up to a high pitch that caused him to quiver all over.

Tom evidently guessed this, judging from his next remark.

"Cool down, Jack," he said, laying a hand on his companion's arm. "This will never do, you know. Getting excited is the worst thing an air pilot can do. It'll prove fatal to all your hopes, unless you manage to control your feelings better."

"I guess you're right, Tom."

"I don't think there's any chance the plane will be discovered here in the open field, even if there is a road so close by," mused the pilot, after they had gone perhaps as far as twenty-five yards.

"Not in a thousand years," asserted Jack confidently, turning to look back as he spoke. "Why, even now I can't discover a sign of the wings, or anything else in the misty moonlight, it's so deceptive. Only that lone tree standing close to where we dropped tells me the location of our plane."

"Yes, I marked that, too," asserted Tom quietly. "I thought we ought to have some sort of landmark to guide us if we should be in a hurry coming back. And the tree, standing up fairly high, can be seen ten times better than anything close to the earth."

"Here's the road, Tom."

"So it is, and an important one in the bargain, judging from its condition," remarked the other, softly.

"It runs the length of the valley, of course," added Jack. "I shouldn't be surprised if it went all the way from Metz to the Verdun front. If that's the case it must have considerable travel, even if nothing has chanced to come along since we landed."

"I can see signs to tell that we are close to some sort of country estate, or it may only be a Lorraine farm."

"I can glimpse lights through the trees, and chances are they come from windows in the house beyond."

"I see them too," affirmed Tom.

"But say, isn't it pretty late for a farmhouse to be lighted up like that?"

"Depend on it, there's some good reason for all that illumination," Jack was told. "And perhaps we'd better drop this talking so much, now we're getting close to the place. No telling what we'll find there. For all we know this may be some one's headquarters, though pretty far back of the line for that sort of thing. But I think it'll turn out to be something more than ordinary."

It did.

Jack began to weave all manner of fantastic explanations to account for the illumination of the house alongside the road to Metz.

He felt he would not be very much astonished to discover a line of military cars standing at the gate, and find that an important council of war was being conducted within the building.

Then he remembered the crying and sobbing. Somehow, that did not seem to fit in with his other imaginings. The touch of Tom's hand on his arm made Jack give a violent start.

"Here's a high fence, you notice," Tom whispered. "Seeing that makes me believe it's going to turn out to be a country estate, and not just a farm. We ought to find a gate somewhere further along."

"That crying has stopped, Tom."

"For the time being, yes," admitted the other. "Perhaps she's only gone away from the open window. I was in hopes it would keep on, so we could be guided straight."

Two minutes later, after walking alongside the high fence for some distance, they discovered the entrance to the place. Tom flashed his light on the ground.

"Been considerable going in and coming out of vehicles, generally automobiles," he announced.

"And private cars are almost taboo in all Germany these dark days, they tell us," mentioned Jack sagely. "That makes it look as if some sort of military business might be transacted in this isolated place. Gee! I tell you it's getting my curiosity whetted to a fine point, all this mystery. But we're going in, of course, Tom?"

"Some way or other, Jack. If the entrance is closed and locked we can climb over the fence, all right. But no need of worrying about that, because I already see the gates are ajar. Come on."

So they slipped into the enclosed grounds, actuated by an impulse, wholly unconscious of what might be awaiting them. They had been drawn into the adventure simply on account of a praiseworthy desire to be of service to some unknown one who seemed to be in trouble. And neither of the boys even vaguely suspected as yet what strange happenings would confront them before many minutes passed by.

XIX. A Nest of Spies

Neither of the air service boys had any doubts now with regard to the character of the grounds they were invading at dead of night. It must be a private estate. Once it may have been kept up through a lavish expenditure of money, but of late years things had evidently been allowed to grow more or less wild.

Tom was following what appeared to be the drive. It was not difficult to do so, because of the moonlight that sifted down through the bare branches of the neighboring ornamental trees, now destitute of foliage.

The house was presently discovered. Just as Tom anticipated, it was a rather large building, that might even be called a mansion, or chateau. It lay half buried amidst a prodigious growth of trees and bushes.

Jack fancied there was a sort of haunted air about the place, something uncanny, as he told himself. And then those sobs or screams could not be forgotten.

"Let's go around first, and see what lies in the rear," whispered Tom.

He had an object in view when he said this. Having noted carefully their route in coming from the open field where they had left their big plane, Tom knew that the window from whence the sobbing had come must be either at the back of the house, or on the eastern side.

He was heading in that quarter now, and looking for signs of a light in some upper window. This he discovered speedily, and pointed it out to his companion.

"Whoever was crying, Jack, must be up there," he said, close to the other's ear so as to insure safety.

"But how can we find out?" queried Jack. "If you say the word I'm willing to climb up, and learn what's wrong."

"Not yet. We must take a turn around, and pick up more knowledge of this place, as well as the people who live in the house."

"Then why not creep up and look in at that lower window?" suggested Jack, pointing as he spoke. "I've seen a shadow passing back and forth, as if some person were walking up and down like a caged tiger. It's a man, too, Tom, because I could easily make out his figure, a tall man to boot."

Tom led the way, with Jack at his heels. They managed to crawl through the bushes that cluttered the ground close to the wall of the stone building, and were at length in a position to raise themselves from their knees and peep under the drawn shade.

Jack was the first to look. Almost instantly he drew back with a low ejaculation of wonder. Tom, spurred on by this fact, also raised his head until his eyes were on a level with the small strip of open space just below the shade. He too had a thrill at what he saw.

"I feel as if I must be dreaming!" whispered Jack huskily. "Tell me, is that man in there really Carl Potzfeldt, the good-for-nothing guardian of little Bessie Gleason?"

"It's no other than our old acquaintance of the Atlantic liner," admitted Tom, though he himself had some difficulty in believing the startling fact.

This man, whom they felt sure was a German spy, had last been seen descending the gangway from the steamer at an English port, with Bessie Gleason, his pretty little ward, held by the hand, as though he feared she might try to run away from him.

Many times had Jack tried to picture the conditions under which he might run across Carl Potzfeldt again; but no matter what line of flight his imagination took he certainly had never dreamed of such a thing as this. Here in the heart of Lorraine, many miles back of the German front, on a moonlight night, and in a lonely country house, he once more beheld the object of his former detestation.

He clutched his chum by the arm almost fiercely.

"Well, that settles it, Tom!" he muttered savagely.

"Settles what?" whispered the other, for the window was closed, and there did not seem to be any chance of their low-voiced exchange of opinions being overheard.

"I don't leave here until I've seen her. For if he's at this place it stands to reason Bessie must be here also. Tom, that was Bessie we heard sobbing, I just know it now."

Tom had already jumped to the same conclusion. Nevertheless he did not mean to let it interfere with his customary caution. Nothing was to be gained through reckless and hurried action. They must go slowly and carefully. This house by the roadside on the way to Metz he concluded might be a nest of spies, perhaps the headquarters of a vast network of plotters.

"Hark! There's a car coming along the road and stopping at the gates here!" he told his chum, as he drew Jack down beside him. "We must be more careful how we look in lighted windows. If any one chanced to be abroad in the grounds we'd be seen, and perhaps fired on."

They crept from the vicinity of the window. Tom led the way toward the front of the house, as if he had an object in view. The car was now coming in along the crooked drive. They could see its one light, for economy in the use of all means for illumination was a cardinal feature of the German military orders in those days of scarcity.

The car stopped in front of the house, and a man jumped out. Tom saw that he wore a uniform of some sort, and judged that he might be a captain, at least. There was a second figure on the front seat, also in the dark-green garb of a soldier, but a private possibly.

The two young Americans crouched amidst the dense bushes and listened. So many thrilling things were happening in rapid succession that their pulses beat with unwonted speed.

Before this the sound of the approaching car must have reached the ears of the man they had seen pacing the floor in the spacious room that looked like a library. There were many books in cases and on shelves, while pictures and boars' heads decorated the walls.

Potzfeldt opened the door just as the officer alighted, and there was an exchange of stiff military salutations. Tom discovered that his guess was a true one, for the man of the house addressed the other as "Captain."

It was too bad that they spoke in German as they stood by the open door. Jack for once bitterly regretted the fact that he had never taken up the study of that language when at school, as he might have done easily enough. It would have paid him handsomely just then, he believed.

The two men talked rapidly. Apparently the officer was asking questions, and demanding something, for in another minute Carl Potzfeldt took an object out of a bill book and handed it to the other. As near as the watchers could make out this object was a slip of paper, very small, but handled as though it might be exceedingly precious.

Jack had a sudden recollection of a correspondingly minute slip of paper which he and Tom had found hidden in that little receptacle attached to the leg of the homing pigeon the latter had shot.

More talk followed between the two men. Presently the man turned and hastened inside again. He had left the door standing open, however, with the German officer waiting as if for something he had come after besides the scrap of paper.

Jack knew now that the man in uniform was from the headquarters of the Crown Prince. That accounted for the numerous marks of car-tires which Tom had discovered on the drive. This lonely house by the roadside on the way to Metz was a nest of spies. Perhaps Carl Potzfeldt might be the chief, through whom negotiations were conducted and lesser agents sent forth.

Jack had got no her in his deduction when he saw the tall man returning. He carried a bundle that was wrapped in a cloth, and depended from his hand by means of a heavy cord, or some sort of handle.

This he set down on the landing, while he passed further words with the captain; and now it was Potzfeldt who asked the questions, as though he wished to learn how things were going at the front.

Between queries and guttural replies the hidden air service boys heard a series of sounds that gave them sudden light. Jack's hand pressed on Tom's arm, as though in this manner he wished to call the attention of the other to the noise.

Many times both of them had listened to similar sounds while watching some pigeon on the barn roof dare a rival to combat, or when wooing his mate. And as they could easily trace this to the covered package which Carl Potzfeldt had just brought out of the house, the meaning was obvious.

Of course there were pigeons in that cage, homing pigeons at that, like the one Tom had shot! Doubtless had that one escaped its tragic fate the message it carried would have been delivered to the owner of this lonely house, in turn to be handed over to one of the messengers from German headquarters.

And now the German captain, stooping over, took possession of the cage containing at least two of the trained birds. They would be carried to some point from which, on another night, a daring Boche airman would attempt to take them far back of the French front, to hand over to the agent who was in communication with the master spy, Carl Potzfeldt.

It was all very simple. Nevertheless it was also amazing to realize how by what might be called a freak of fate the air service boys had been enabled to discover these facts. But for the accident to the motor they would not have dreamed of making a landing short of the aviation field at Bar-le- Duc. Then, had they not caught that woeful sound of loud sobbing, the idea of looking around would never have occurred to them.

The officer was now starting back to his car, which would carry him post- haste to German headquarters, where the fresh message in a cipher code from beyond the French lines might be translated, and the valuable information it possibly contained be taken advantage of.

Presently the military chauffeur started to swing around a curve that would allow them to leave the grounds by the same gates through which they had entered. The car's course could be followed by the strong ray its one light threw ahead; and the boys were able to tell when it reached the road again.

As they expected it returned the same way it had come, probably heading for the headquarters of the Crown Prince.

XX. Jack Climbs a Wall

"What luck we're in to be here, Tom!" murmured Jack.

Carl Potzfeldt had again entered the house and closed the door; and the air service boys could no longer hear the car speeding along the road. Jack was quivering all over with excitement The events that had just come to their attention filled him with a sensation of wonder approaching awe.

"It certainly is strange how we've stumbled on this nest of spies," admitted Tom.

"And the paper he gave the captain— it must have been a message in cipher that an incoming pigeon brought from back of our lines, eh, Tom?"

"I guess it was, Jack. We could see it was only a small scrap of paper, thin paper at that; but both of them handled it as if it were pretty valuable."

Jack was chuckling, such a queer proceeding that Tom could not help noticing it, and commenting on it.

"What's struck you as funny now?" he asked, puzzled to account for this sudden freak on the part of his companion.

"I was wondering," explained Jack, "whether that mightn't be the doctored message we believed our commander meant to send through some time or other with one of the pigeons we got that day we went hunting."

"That's possible," Tom agreed, also amused at the thought. "But then, whether it is or not, it means nothing to us, you understand. We are here, and must decide on our movements. If that was a bogus message, and will coax the Germans to make an attack at a certain place where a trap has been laid, that's their lookout."

"Somewhere about here must be the pigeon loft where those homing birds have been bred," suggested Jack, following up a train of thought.

"Yes, it may be on the flat roof of the chateau, or in the barn at the rear," Tom admitted. "One thing is certain, they know only this place as home, and wherever they're set free their first instinct is to strike a bee-line for here. Some people are so foolish as to fancy homers can be sent anywhere; but that's silly. It's only home that they're able to head straight toward, even if hundreds of miles away."

"Oh Tom! how about Bessie?" inquired Jack eagerly.

His chum considered, while he rubbed his chin with thumb and finger in a thoughtful way he had when a little puzzled.

"It might be done in a pinch," he finally muttered.

"What, Tom?"

"She's such a little mite that her weight wouldn't amount to much, if only she had the nerve to do it, Jack."

"Do you mean that you'd be willing to carry Bessie off with us? To help her escape from her guardian? I'm sure he must be treating her badly, or else she wouldn't be sobbing her poor little heart out, as we heard her."

"That would have to depend a whole lot on Bessie."

"As far as that goes I know she's a gritty little person," Jack instantly remarked. "Many times she said to me she wished she were a boy so that she might also learn to fly and fight for France against the detested Kaiser. Why, she even told me she had gone up with an aviator who exhibited down at a Florida resort, one having a hydro-airplane in which he took people up. And Bessie declared she didn't have the least fear."

"That sounds good to me, Jack."

"Then let's get busy, and try to let her know we're here," continued Jack.

"First of all, we'll get under the open window where she must have been standing at the time we heard her crying. I think I saw a movement up there while the two men were conversing on the porch. Perhaps Bessie was listening to what they said."

Tom's words gave his chum a new thought.

"Oh, it would certainly be just like Bessie to do it! She seemed to be full of clever ideas."

Tom, being mystified by such words, he naturally sought further information.

"What would she do?" he demanded.

"Send me that mysterious message by the little hot-air balloon," Jack announced with a vein of pride in his voice, feeling delighted over having solved the puzzle that had baffled him for so long.

"It hardly seems probable," Tom answered softly. "At the same time it isn't altogether impossible."

"How far are we from the French front, do you think, Tom?" pursued his comrade, determined to sift the whole thing out.

"Twenty miles or so, I should imagine."

"That isn't very far. Once I caught just such a little balloon in a tree in our yard that had a tag on it, telling that it had been set free in a village that lay seventy miles off. The wind had carried it along furiously, so that it covered all that distance before losing buoyancy, and coming down in the heavy night air."

"Yes, I know of other circumstances where such balloons have traveled long distances before falling. Then again, Jack, this valley extends pretty much all the way to the Verdun front, and the current of air would carry a balloon along directly toward our home patch."

"Oh, Bessie sent it, believe me!" asserted Jack again, more confidently than ever. "And she'll tell us so too, when she gets the chance."

Thus whispering the air service boys arrived at that side of the house where the lighted window on the second door seemed to indicate that the object of their present concern could be found.

Tom examined the building as well as the limited amount of light allowed. He could easily see that any agile young fellow, himself or Jack for instance, might scale the wall, making use of some projections, and a cement flower trellis as well, in carrying out the project.

"We might throw pebbles up, and bring her to the window," he suggested, though pretty confident at the time Jack would find fault with such an arrangement.

"That wouldn't help her get down here to us, Tom," protested the other. "And that's what we're planning, you remember; for you said she could accompany us if she felt equal to it. I must go up myself and help Bessie get down. There's nothing else to do, Tom."

It looked very much as though Jack was right. Tom admitted this to himself; at the same time he wished there were some other way by means of which the same end could be gained, or that he could undertake the thing, instead of his comrade.

But to this Jack would never agree. Bessie was his own particular friend; and they had been most "chummy" while aboard the Atlantic liner crossing the submarine infested ocean. Then again that warning had been addressed to him, and not to both, showing that the writer had only been concerned about the danger he, Jack, was running, should his plane be tampered with by some emissary of Carl Potzfeldt.

"All right then; you go, Jack! But be careful about your footing. If you fell it'd be a bad thing in many ways, for even if you escaped a broken neck or a fractured leg you'd arouse the house, and all sorts of trouble would drop down on us in a hurry."

"Don't worry about me, Tom. I'll show you I'm as nimble as any monkey. Besides, that isn't much of a climb. Why, I could nearly do it with one arm tied fast."

"Go to it!" Tom told him, settling back to watch the performance and give whispered advice if it seemed necessary.

Jack waited no longer. He was wild to find himself once more face to face with the pretty young girl in whom he had taken such an interest. Her recent sobs and cries still haunted his heart, and he felt certain she must be in great sorrow over something.

He commenced climbing. While his boast about being equal to any monkey that ever lived among the treetops may have been a bit of an exaggeration, all the same Jack was a very good athlete, and especially with regard to feats on the parallel bars or the ladders in a gymnasium.

He made his way nimbly upward, with Tom's eyes following every movement. It seemed an easy task for the climber. Just what he would discover when he had gained the open window was another question.

The light still remained, for which both boys felt glad. It afforded Jack a goal which he was striving to gain; and it told Tom further down that the inmate of the upper room was awake and still moving about, though her sobs had ceased.

Once Tom fancied he heard something stirring back of the house. He hoped it might not prove to be a servant attached to the Potzfeldt place or an attendant who had charge of the pigeon loft.

Jack was almost up now. He had only to cover another yard of space when he could look into the room of the lighted window. That was where fresh peril must lie, because his figure would be outlined in silhouette, and any one moving about the grounds might discover that uninvited guests had arrived.

Tom wished he had told his chum to insist that the light be immediately extinguished, if, as they believed, it proved to be Bessie who occupied that room. He hoped his chum would think of it without being told.

There! At last Jack had arrived, and without accident! Now he was cautiously thrusting his head up a little, to peer within.

Tom held his breath. So much depended on what would follow Jack's betrayal of his presence.

"Tell her to put out the light, first of all, Jack!" Tom gently called out, using both hands as a megaphone to carry the sounds.

It seemed that he must have been heard, and his directions understood, for immediately there was another movement above, after which the illumination ceased, as though Bessie had blown out the lamp.

Tom breathed easier, though he still continued to look, and wonder how his chum was going to get the girl safely down from her elevated apartment. Jack was not so fertile in expedients as his chum, and many times depended on Tom to suggest ways and means.

While Tom was still waiting, and hoping for the best, he heard his comrade whisper down to him as he hung suspended, clutching the sill of the open window.

"After all, you'll have to come up too, Tom," he was saying feverishly. "There are complications that'll need your judgment, knots to untangle that are beyond me,"

XXI. In the Old Lorraine Chateau

What Jack said in his cautious fashion puzzled Tom. For the life of him he could not understand what had arisen, calling for any unusual display of generalship. Surely Jack should have been equal to the task of getting Bessie down from the window, even if he had to make use of knotted bed- clothes in lieu of a rope.

Still he had asked Tom to come up, and there was nothing to do but grant his request. "Complications," Jack said, had arisen. That was a suggestive word, and to Tom's mind seemed to hint at further mystery.

Accordingly he proceeded to imitate the example of his comrade. Jack had shown the way, and all his chum had to do was to follow. As Tom was also an all-around athlete, accustomed to much climbing from small boyhood, after nuts and birds' nests and all such things as take lads into tall trees, he found but little trouble in making the ascent.

When he drew himself alongside Jack, the other gave a sigh of relief.

"Whee! I'm glad you've come, I tell you, Tom," he said. "It was getting too big a job for me to tackle."

"What's happened, Jack?" asked the late arrival on the stone ledge under the window of the upper room.

"First, here's Bessie, Tom," Jack went on. "She wants to shake hands with you. Since we parted, when the steamer was docked, the poor girl has been having all sorts of trouble; and she's glad as can be to see us both again; aren't you, Bessie?"

Tom, feeling a small, trembling hand groping for his, immediately grasped it, and gave a squeeze that must have carried conviction to the heart of the girl.

"Oh, I'm shivering like everything!" she murmured, adding quickly: "But not with fear. It's because my prayers have been answered, and help has come at last, when everything looked so awfully dark— and I'm so very, very hungry."

"Hungry!" repeated Tom, starting, it seemed such a very strange word for the girl to use, even though they were in Germany, where all food he knew must be getting exceedingly scarce.

"Yes, what do you think, that rotten bounder of a spy is half starving the poor girl! He ought to be tarred and feathered, that's what!" growled the indignant Jack.

"Not so loud," warned Tom. "Some one may hear you, Jack. But tell me what you've learned."

"Why, first of all, Tom, it was Bessie who wrote that warning message I had, and attached it to that little balloon, hoping the favorable breeze would carry it over the front to the French lines. So that mystery is explained. Then, Tom, there are two we've got to take out of this place, instead of just one, as we thought."

"I don't get you!" Tom ejaculated. "What do you mean by two?"

"It's a story in itself, I guess," whispered Jack. "I don't wholly understand it myself. But it seems that Bessie's mother didn't drown after all when the Lusitania went down, as Potzfeldt reported she did."

"You surprise me, Jack! How could that be?" demanded the other youth, thrilled by the startling information.

"Oh, that slick rascal managed it somehow," came the soft if indignant reply. "We'll learn more about it later on. He was picked up by a fishing boat. The lady was temporarily out of her mind, so he gave it out later that she had gone down. How he ever got her over here in Germany beats me. But he managed to do it it seems. And she's been kept a prisoner in this old chateau of his ever since!"

"But what was his object?" asked the amazed Tom.

"It had a heap to do with finances," Jack told him. "While he held a paper that gave him charge over her daughter over in America, and a part of the big Gleason fortune also, there were valuable papers he had been unable to get his greedy hands on. She absolutely refused to tell him where they were hidden. As a last resort what did the wretch do but go all the way back to America."

"You mean to fetch his ward across with him, Jack?"

"Yes, just to use Bessie as a lever to compel her mother to give up those valuable papers. I always said, you remember, Tom, that man was hugging some secret to his heart. And so he was."

"He's been treating Bessie badly then, half starving her, I think you said?" continued Tom.

"Just what he has, poor girl," growled his chum, savagely. "It's an awful thing to be hungry! I don't see how any one can stand it. But he hasn't broken the spirit of either of them yet, though Bessie's getting so weak she finds herself crying every now and then, just as we heard her. And it was that which brought us over to find out what it meant. But Tom, tell her we mean to stand by, and see that both her mother and herself are taken to a place of safety."

This Tom readily did, though as yet he could hardly understand just how their promise could be fulfilled. One they might manage to take aloft with them, by crowding, but the Caudron was not capable of seating four; nor would it be safe to carry a couple of inexperienced passengers along with themselves.

"But we're losing valuable time," he observed. "The sooner we get in touch with Mrs. Gleason the better. There's a whole lot to be done before we can say we're on the safe side of the fence."

"Then first of all we'd better climb inside the room, hadn't we?" suggested Jack.

In answer Tom proceeded to get one leg over the sill, and then pass his entire body across. Jack quickly followed. In the semidarkness, for the moon gave a dim light, they clustered there, and continued to map out their immediate plans in whispers that could not have been heard a dozen feet distant.

It appeared that Bessie knew where her mother was confined, though both doors were fastened on the outside to prevent their having communication. But the girl had found a way. Night after night she was accustomed to slipping from her window, when everything was quiet below and the lights all out, making her way along that narrow coping, or ledge, and tapping softly at the window of her mother's room.

They would remain together until toward morning, when the girl made it a practice to return by the same perilous route.

On this particular night it had seemed as though the lights below would never go out. Carl Potzfeldt, the master spy, expecting important news and a messenger from the headquarters of the Crown Prince, had been waiting up until long after midnight in order to fullfil the important duties entrusted to him.

Jack suggested that he creep along that coping and inform the lady of the golden chance for escape that had arrived. But as she would hardly be able to return by the same way, it seemed as though some other scheme must be considered.

Bessie herself had a brilliant thought bordering on an inspiration.

"Listen, and I will tell you," she said at this juncture. "All the time I have been here my one thought has been of escape. I dreamed nothing else save getting my poor mother away from the clutches of that coward who had hypnotized her in the past, and made her believe he was a good man as well as her cousin from Alsace-Lorraine. And I know of a way it can be done."

"Tell us your plan, please," begged Jack; though he would be sorry to learn that the honor of releasing Bessie's imprisoned mother was not to fall to his share in the undertaking.

"There is another window. It opens upon a hallway; and I can get through it, because I've tried it more than once. But the proper time hadn't come, for how were we to flee from this awful country? Wait for me here, both of you. I shall be able to open her barred door, and then my own. And it is better that I carry her the good news than some one who would be a stranger to my mother, however much I have told her about you."

Tom saw that her plan was the best, after all. He himself had been a little afraid that if Jack came tapping at the window of Mrs. Gleason's room she might take the alarm, thinking it but another twist to the odious schemes of Potzfeldt, and perhaps shrieking out in terror; which would cause an alarm, and ruin everything.

Bessie climbed nimbly out of the window, showing how accustomed she was to such athletic exercises. Jack held on to her to the last, and his whispers were all of an entreating character, as he begged her to be very careful, and not slip in her excitement.

Now she was gone, and the two air service boys, left by themselves in that room of the old Lorraine chateau, counted the seconds and the minutes until they should hear a gentle signal at the door, to signify that Bessie and her mother were there, about to enter.

Jack walked softly up and down, like a velvet-footed tiger in its cage. He was so worked up by the excitement of the occasion that Tom did not have the heart to ask him to stop his movements, though he certainly would have done so had not the other been keeping on his tiptoes all the while.

What a remarkable turn their venture into the country back of the enemy's lines had taken! And what astounding discoveries they had made in the bargain!

Jack was getting more and more impatient. Several times did he pause at the door, to lay his ear close to the heavy panel, and listen. He wondered what could be keeping Bessie. Surely she had had ample time to open the door of her mother's room and explain everything to the lady. In his excitement he pictured all sorts of fresh trouble as having befallen the girl. What if by accident she had run across the master German spy in the corridor? But then, in such a case, Bessie surely would have screamed in order to warn her two friends that they were in danger of being discovered, should Potzfel1dt and some of his assistants burst into the room.

Of course Jack had magnified things wonderfully. Less than half the time had elapsed than he thought had passed when there came a soft scratching on the door to notify them Bessie was there. They next heard a slight creaking sound, and then the soft closing of the door.

"Bessie, is it you?" asked the eager Jack, softly.

A reply in the affirmative followed.

"And here is mother with me," added the girl, a note of joy in her voice, even though she spoke in a whisper.

So they came together. In the semi-darkness the boys could not see what Bessie's mother looked like. They did note, however, that she was small of stature; and this fact pleased Tom very much indeed. For already he had figured out just how the rescue must be carried out, since there seemed to be no other way.

His plans would entail some sacrifice on Jack's part, and also more or less exposure to peril; but then Tom knew his chum too well to imagine he would hesitate even a moment when called upon to take this additional burden on his shoulders.

Both of them squeezed the trembling hand of the woman, and as best they were able assured her that they meant to carry both Bessie and herself to a place of safety, provided they were courageous enough to trust themselves to the care of two air pilots.

XXII. Facing More Difficulties

"As for me," spoke up Bessie, immediately, just as Jack felt positive she would, "I'd like nothing better. I've been up once in a hydro-airplane, and would have gone many times if mother had allowed me.

The lady did not seem to anticipate having a very delightful time of it, for Tom felt her shudder; but she was courageous, and evidently ready to attempt any hazard in order to gain her freedom.

"If only there is some way to fasten me securely," she told them, "I am willing to do anything you say, my brave boys. So make your plans without regard to my feelings in the matter."

Jack about this time evidently began to scent something with regard to Tom's intuitions; at least his word implied a growing skepticism concerning their ability to find room for two passengers aboard a plane intended only for a pilot and an observer, or a gunner.

"Of course one could squeeze in alongside me, Tom," he mentioned hesitatingly; "but do you think it's wise to have anybody with you? Mightn't it interfere with the working of the controls, and add to the danger?"

"It certainly would, Jack; and that's why I'm forced to call on you to make a sacrifice."

"Go on and say what's on your mind, then," demanded Jack. "No matter what it's going to be, you'll find me ready and willing for anything."

"You'll have to wait for the second trip," Tom announced.

"All right, just as you say, Tom. When will that be, later on to-night?"

"If it's possible to get back, yes," said the other.

"But if you can't make it, then to-morrow night, Tom?"

Jack was not overcome with fear, even though the prospect did appear anything but cheerful. Bessie listened to this low talk, and gave evidence of growing anxiety.

"But why should this be necessary?" she put in at that juncture. "I can stay behind just as well as not. Then perhaps another night later on you could come again, and take me with you to the French lines, and safety."

Jack sniffed in disdain.

"Well, I guess not, Bessie!" he told her, almost sternly. "I'd just like to see myself sailing away, and leaving you here to stand the racket. No, both of you are going to accompany Tom. I can find a hiding place somewhere around; and besides, no one will suspect that an American flier is hanging out here. There's only one thing I hate like everything to think of."

"And I can guess what that is," Tom said, quickly. "You dread to contemplate a long eatless day before you. That's the worst punishment anyone could hand out to you, Jack."

"As far as that goes," interrupted Bessie; "I can tell Jack where the pantry window lies. As the catch is broken you can easily climb in through it later on to-night, and lay in a supply of food. There is always something there. Before that bad man shut me up he tried to starve me, and I stole food myself. Then he guessed what was happening, for he fastened my door, and only allowed me to walk in the grounds in company with a woman he has for a housekeeper."

Thereupon Bessie gave Jack minute directions how to find the window leading into the store-room. Thus armed the young aviator felt that he ought to be able to stand it, in case his comrade found it impracticable to return on the same night.

"Since all that is fixed," remarked Tom, "it strikes me we had better get out of this place quickly. Can you lead us down by way of the stairs, Bessie?"

"Oh, yes; for I know every foot of the way," she told him without hesitation. "You see, I expected that some time we would have to slip away by stealth; and so I made myself familiar with everything, even to the fastenings of the great front door, with its chain and catch."

"Then we're in great luck," Jack observed, while Tom on his part went on to ask further.

"All seems dark outside now, Bessie; would that indicate your jailer has gone to his bed? And do you happen to know where his apartment is? That might mean a whole lot to us, you understand."

"I don't believe he ever does really go to bed," she replied. "Once I heard him complain that there were so many times during the night that messengers came from headquarters with demands, or after information expected from over the lines, that he had to secure his sleep while fully dressed, and by throwing himself down on a Turkish lounge he has in his room."

"Well, so long as his sleep is sound it's little we care how or when he gets it," announced Jack, flippantly. "And when you give the word, Tom, we'll all be ready to follow Bessie down the stairs."

Tom was even opening his mouth to say there was really nothing to detain them, if Bessie and her mother had secured what trifles they wished to take away, but after all he did not speak the words that were on his lips.

Through the open window they suddenly heard the sound of heavy, guttural voices. They seemed to come from the road near the entrance gates.

Tom stepped over to the window and looked out. What he saw gave him an unpleasant feeling. There were lights already on the crooked driveway, and a number of men seemed to be advancing in a group.

Jack at his elbow was also staring, and grinding his teeth with anger.

"Hang the luck, I say!" he gritted. "That fresh bunch of Boche officers is bound to knock our plans silly. They'll stir things up again, and we can't get away. Then perhaps some one will discover the doors of the two rooms are unfastened, and that'll start a hornet's nest about our ears."

"Get down, and keep hidden, Jack," urged his companion. "They have lights with them, and might see us as they come along. There's a general, at least, in the lot, that big stout man in the center, and I imagine those other officers belong to his staff."

"But what are they walking for?" whispered Jack, incredulously. "German officers in the High Command don't often tramp along the roads like that, do they?"

"They may have broken down in their car; and learning they were close to this house have come on here to wait till repairs are made. Lots of them know Potzfeldt, I suppose, and one of these men may have been here before on business. The worst of it all is we'll have to give up our scheme of going down by way of the stairs."

They crouched down and watched as best they could, while the half-dozen men in the gray-green uniforms of German officers, and with many decorations on the breast of the martial-looking commander, approached the chateau's front door.

Already lights had sprung up on the lower floor. Undoubtedly Potzfeldt had heard his unexpected guests coming, and was bestirring himself to welcome them, though inwardly raving over having his rest so frequently disturbed.

He met them at the door, and there ensued more or less talking, all of it in the choicest of German. Again Jack felt sorry that his education was so incomplete that he could only guess at what most of it meant.

Still, Tom could pick up a little of what was said. There was certainly mention made of an unfortunate accident to a car, that would necessitate a delay of some hours for repairs, possibly until morning. The general did not altogether fancy sitting in the car for hours in the cool night air. Especially was this the case after he had learned that there was a house half a mile or so further on where food and drink could be obtained in plenty, if only they chose to walk that far.

All of the newcomers had by now stalked inside the house, and the coast seemed to be clear, so far as those above could see. But down below there was much hurrying to and fro, which would indicate that Potzfeldt must have aroused his retainers, and they were running up and down from wine- cellar to dining-room, bearing acceptable refreshments for the unbidden guests.

"Say, I wonder if that old stout chap could be Hindenburg himself?" Jack whispered in his chum's ear. "I noticed that Mr. Potzfeldt seemed mighty obsequious, as if he felt highly honored at having such a noble visitor, and nothing could be too good to set before him."

"Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd hit the nail on the head when you said that, Jack," the other told him. "He was a big, burly man, with a mighty important air about him and he wore a mustache such as we've always seen in pictures of Hindenburg. But no matter, it doesn't concern us at all, if we can find a way to get down from here."

"Only," said Jack, whimsically, "I do hope if they've got their German appetites along, they don't clean out that pantry before I get my look-in, that's all. Twenty-four hours without a single bite would be the limit for me. I don't think I'd survive the ordeal. Now what, Tom?"

Tom was looking out again.

"That's lucky," Jack heard him mutter.

"Of course it is. But tell me what you're referring to, Tom."

"Some clouds have come along. One is right now covering the face of the moon, you notice. Well, if we are forced to lower Bessie and her mother from the window by means of a rope made from knotted bed-sheets, we stand a chance to avoid being discovered at work by any one who might happen to be abroad just then."

Jack chuckled as though pleased.

"Sure, that's the game, Tom! I knew you'd be equal to getting up some sort of clever scheme. And I'll start in right away making that rope. We want to be certain it's strong enough to bear their weight, that's all."

"I'll help you at the job," Tom, told him, for he too wished to be positive about the twisted parts of the sheets, before trusting the girl and her mother to their care.

Fortunately they found that Carl Potzfeldt had some of the airs of a millionaire about him. The sheets were of stout linen, instead of the customary cotton to which the American boys were accustomed. When these were cut first with a sharp pocket-knife, and then torn into long strips about a foot or so in width, they could be twisted and knotted until the result was a novel rope of at least twenty feet in length.

Neither Bessie nor her mother said a single word. They seemed more than willing to be thus lowered to the ground. Such a novel experience might not be delightful, but it amounted to very little when compared with what they had suffered at the hands of their rude and cruel captor.

Soon the odd rope was ready for use.

"Let me be the first to go down," Bessie then said to Tom, in an authoritative voice.

As he had been about to propose the same thing he made not the least objection, but proceeded to secure one end of the strange rope around her body just below the arms, Bessie herself assisting in the operation.

Before attempting the task, Tom stood at the window listening for some little time. He wished to make sure that none of the German officers had remained outside. Tom also meant to satisfy himself that there was no lurking form among the bushes on that side of the chateau, since the light streaming from the lower windows dissipated some of the advantages gained by the temporary clouding of the moon.

XXIII. Left Behind In the Enemy Country

Tom appeared finally to be satisfied, for he turned around to Bessie.

"Now if you're ready we'll lower you safely," he told her.

The girl showed considerable nimbleness in climbing over the window-sill. Jack insisted in having a hand in dropping her slowly down. It was not far, and in a few breaths the girl had reached the solid ground. She understood what was expected of her, and immediately cast off the rude rope, so it might be drawn up and made to serve once more.

Mrs. Gleason showed just as much bravery as her daughter, and was also lowered without trouble.

"You go down next, Tom," whispered Jack. "Then I'll draw it up, and can join you easily enough without the help of the rope. A white thing like this dangling here would be sure to attract attention, if any one came around the corner of the house, and might cost us dearly in the end."

Tom understood. He preferred being the last to stay, but since Jack had taken that upon himself, and was moreover adept at scaling walls, it was folly to dispute his right.

So down Tom went. He had hardly landed when the sheet-rope was swiftly drawn up, and vanished within the room. After that Jack was seen making his way down over the same route he had taken while ascending.

Soon they were all together again, and their queer exit from the room seemed not to have been discovered, for which they felt very thankful indeed.

Tom led the way into the friendly bushes close by. It was his intention to skirt the carriage-drive, as it might contain elements of danger for them. Once they had passed out on the main road to Metz, it would not take them long to reach the field where the big Caudron airplane lay like an exhausted and enormous bat, awaiting their coming to spring into activity.

In passing along they were enabled to catch a glimpse of the interior of the dining-room where Carl Potzfeldt was entertaining his distinguished visitor to the best of his ability in those times when scarcity ruled.

Tom managed to get a better look at the general. He was more than ever convinced that the big man with the strong features and all these decorations on his uniform, was in fact Hindenburg, the head of the whole German army, whose opinion carried even more weight with the people just then than that of Kaiser Wilhelm.

It would be something worth while to be able to say they had been within a dozen feet of the famous commander, the Iron Man of Germany. Tom vaguely wished he had some means of capturing the general then and there, and carrying him over the lines to the French headquarters. That would indeed be a feat well worth praise from General Petain; but of course it was utterly impossible.

They gained the gate, and there Tom insisted on looking carefully around so as to make doubly certain that no sentinel had been left on duty while General Hindenburg remained within the house.

When this fact was made clear he led the way forth. The little party of four almost ran along the road, so eager were they to place as much ground as possible between themselves and the seat of danger.

There was always a chance that the flight of Bessie and her mother might be discovered by some one connected with the household, and communicated to Potzfeldt. He, of course, would exhaust every means in trying to overtake the fugitives.

But Tom chuckled while telling himself that they must needs have extraordinary and fleet steeds who could successfully pursue those who had trusted their safety to his care and that of the big Caudron airplane.

Jack hardly knew where the field lay, having become "rattled," as he called it, from the adventures at the chateau. So after all it was fortunate that Tom had taken his bearings as well as he had. He knew just where to leave the road, and start across the open space. Then the lone tree began to loom up, for the moon had once more thrust her face from behind the enveloping cloud.

"It's all right, Bessie," said Jack reassuringly. "Our plane lies close to the foot of that tree ahead there. If all goes well you'll be on your way before many minutes have passed."

"Thanks to you, Jack," murmured the girl admiringly.

"Shucks! that isn't a circumstance to what I'd be willing to do for you and your mother!" Jack boldly told her.

"But all the same it is very brave of you, Jack, and I can never forget your kindness to us," she insisted. "I hope and pray that nothing terrible will happen to you while we're gone, and that I'll soon see you again."

"I hope so too, Bessie," he chuckled, as if amused. "As to anything happening to me, I guess I know how to hide all right. The worst that can knock me is getting a little mite hungry, you know. If that big German general and his staff leave a bite in the pantry I'm going after it, believe me! Then I'll find a hole, and crawl in, somewhere close by here, so I can watch for Tom's return."

Apparently Jack had mapped his whole programme out; and it seemed that an adequate supply of provisions occupied the most prominent place in them.

They were now at the spot where the Caudron had been left. Tom's mind was eased of the secret fears he had entertained when he saw the machine was still where they had left it. So far as he could tell no one had been near to meddle with it.

First of all Bessie and her mother must be fastened securely to the seat where Jack had sat on the trip to Metz. Tom, like a wise general, had provided himself with plenty of the strips of linen from the torn sheets. This he utilized in tying the passengers, so that there would not be the slightest chance of their falling out.

Even if Mrs. Gleason should faint through terror on finding herself a mile up in the air, she could not fall out of the machine. But Tom entertained high hopes that both of his passengers were going to display extraordinary courage, and give him no cause at all for anxiety.

Jack tried to assist in the operation, but his hands were trembling so with the excitement that Tom pushed him away.

"Leave the job to me, Jack," he told the other. "Too many cooks spoil the broth, you know. I'll make everything secure, depend on it."

"Of course I know you will, Tom," the other hastened to assure him. "Perhaps it is better only one handled the business. And Bessie—— "

"Yes, Jack," said the girl, slipping a hand out toward him, which Jack took in his, and pressed reassuringly.

"Don't bother your head for a single minute about me, mind. I'll be all right, and perhaps able to join you again this very night. It's a great lark for me, and I wouldn't miss it for a heap. But oh, if only we could kidnap that high commander, and carry him over to have an interview with General Petain, how proud I'd be!"

Tom smiled on realizing that the same idea had occurred to Jack that had dashed through his own mind.

"Here, take my automatic, Jack," Tom said. "You may find occasion to use it before I come back."

The other complied, and apparently he felt more confidence, once he knew he had in his possession the means for defending himself should any ordinary danger threaten. Tom was loath to depart, once he had everything arranged. The truth of the matter was he hated to leave his chum in the enemy country; it seemed as though he were deserting him.

So he "fiddled" around, testing this wire guy, and using his electric hand torch to give him light, so he could once more run his eye over the motor on which he had been working.

"Come, Tom, it's no use hanging around here a minute longer," Jack had finally to tell him. "Get aboard and I'll spin your wheel for you and give you a boost for a start. Then I'll drop out of sight, because some of them may run this way when they hear the clatter and guess the cause."

Tom climbed to his seat and settled himself according to his customary thorough manner. He tried the controls, and was not satisfied until he had tested everything within reach.

"Say when, Tom!" Jack remarked, having finally left Bessie's side and gone to the propellers of the big plane.

Tom drew in a long breath. He knew he had a risky venture ahead, taking those two inexperienced passengers over the hostile lines, possibly amidst showers of exploding shrapnel shells. But it was not this that weighed so heavily on his spirits. He felt almost like a criminal at leaving Jack behind.

"All right; let her go!" he announced grimly.

There came a sudden whirring sound. Then the loud hum of the motors chimed in, and the big Caudron machine started off.

"Good-bye, Tom! Good-bye, Bessie!" Jack was heard saying, although the noise of the plane almost drowned his voice.

Faster they went now, as the machine gained momentum. Tom paid strict attention to his business of pilot. At just the proper time he must elevate the forward rudder which would cause the plane to leave the ground and start upward at a sharp angle.

Jack stood gazing after the object that was quickly growing more and more indistinct in the dim moonlight, gazing with a strange heaviness in the region of his heart. He had to shut his teeth firmly together to conquer the momentary weakness that threatened to overpower him. But his resolution remained master of the field.

"If only he gets them safely across," Jack muttered to himself, when he could no longer see the airplane, though its noisy working came plainly to his ears, "it'll be all right. But they've heard the racket over at the house, too, I guess, because men are shouting, and I can see lights flashing this way and that."

When he discovered that men with lanterns were actually looking around as if to learn where the departing airplane could have been resting, and what it all meant, Jack concluded it was time to conceal himself.

XXIV. Troublous Times For Jack

The men bearing the lanterns came closer, Jack saw, as he himself scurried amidst the bushes seeking a hiding-place.

"Guess that Potzfeldt must know that planes can drop down on his big open field," the youth muttered to himself. Then as a new idea flashed through his brain he continued: "Whee! I warrant you now that ours wasn't the first airplane to land there. Sometimes maybe the spy he wants to send back of the French lines gets aboard right here, with his little cage of homers."

Presently loud exclamations told that the men had discovered the marks of the arriving and departing Caudron machine. Jack could hear them exchanging remarks about it, in German of course. Then he saw one of the trio start back toward the house. He was half running, as though much excited. Jack jumped to a conclusion.

"Say," he said to himself, in a whisper, as though even the sound of his own voice might be company for him, "now that must have been Carl Potzfeldt himself. What's he making for the house with a hop, skip and jump for? Perhaps one of his sharp-eyed men has told him there are marks of small shoes around; and old Carl got a sudden suspicion something tremendous has happened."

The master-spy came back again. He was now accompanied by two others, and Jack saw by their uniforms that they were members of the general's staff

All were talking earnestly, Potzfeldt, Jack imagined, telling them some story concerning Bessie and her mother, in which he figured as a noble man, trying to save Mrs. Gleason from the wiles of some American fortune hunter, into whose hands he now feared she and her daughter had fallen.

"My! but he's wild!" chuckled the hidden observer. "He realizes that the two American boys have been too much for his scheming after all. Guess he must have had a suspicion all along we'd break up his game. That'd account for his plotting with the other spy to have our planes meddled with, so we'd meet with some terrible accident that would remove us from his path."

Jack was really enjoying himself. It did him good to hear Potzfeldt raging around, and spluttering as though his rage half choked him.

What Bessie had said concerning the cruel treatment she had received at the hands of her mother's relative had fired Jack's blood. He detested a man who in order to accumulate money could treat a helpless woman and girl as Potzfeldt had those who were in his power.

"I'd just like," he was telling himself as he listened, "to be one of three fellows who had that villain in their power, with a nice big kettle of hot tar handy, ditto three feather pillows. Oh, wouldn't we make him a queer bird, though! The extinct dodo'd have nothing on him, believe me! But it's fine to hear him raging around like that. I only wish Bessie could listen."

After a time Potzfeldt and his men went away. They knew they could do nothing, as the big enemy plane had long since departed, and must by then be many miles on the return journey to the French lines.

An hour went by and all seemed quiet in the region of the big house by the side of the road. Jack had not forgotten the promise made to himself. It might mean additional danger, to be sure; but when he thought of a long day ahead, in all probability, with an empty stomach constantly reproaching him, he felt equal to the task.

He had no trouble in finding the entrance to the grounds. Everything seemed quiet, as though the general and his staff were endeavoring to get a little sleep before resuming their journey to the fighting front.

Jack was soon under the window that had been described to him by Bessie. It gave light to the pantry during the daytime. Also he had been assured, the catch that secured it was broken, so that if he were bold enough he could easily gain entrance and take his pick of what the housekeeper had stored there.

Such a nimble chap as Jack had no difficulty whatever in making an entrance. Finding himself within the big closet, he listened, and, hearing no sound, struck a match.

By the light thus afforded he could see what lay within his reach. Trust one with an empty stomach for knowing what he wants under such conditions. Jack immediately commenced to gather together a supply of food of various kinds, such as could be eaten without need for a fire.

Quantity rather than quality seemed to rule his actions. At any rate, when he gathered his spoils together he had quite enough to last an ordinary man several days.

"Well," he told himself, when lifting the bundle he had made. "I may be marooned around here a long time, and never get another chance at this supply station. I believe in striking while the iron's hot. Now to get it outside without raising a crowd."

It was indeed a lucky thing that there was no watch-dog at the Potzfeldt place. Undoubtedly this was because of the many visitors coming and going at all times, who might be bothered by a savage beast.

Jack managed to get back safely to the nest where he had hidden at the time of the excitement, when Potzfeldt and his men were in the field. He gave a sigh of relief after it was all over.

Soon the young aviator settled down to try to get some sleep, as some time still remained before dawn would break. He meant to be early astir. There was danger in the air, as he might be discovered unless he arranged for a better hiding place than the covert of bushes where he now lay.

Whether his sleep was worth while, or rendered uneasy by dreams, Jack never told. He was awake though, when the sun peeped above the horizon, and began to bestir himself Presently people would be moving about. Some of the men might even come out to the open field again, to look at the telltale marks. And if they chanced to suspect that one of the crew of the Caudron had been left behind, a hasty search was apt to reveal his presence,

Accordingly Jack commenced to retire deeper into the wood, and managed by great care to cover his tracks fairly well in so doing. Finally he found a place that seemed to him about as good as anything he might expect to run across; and so he crawled into the bushes again.

Then he had a most pleasing task to start upon, which was nothing more nor less than that of appeasing his appetite, never more voracious, he fancied, than just then. Without a twinge of conscience regarding the fact that it was stolen food he disposed of, Jack commenced his morning meal.

"I'm only enjoying some of the good stuff that scoundrel deprived Bessie of," he told himself, with a grin of contentment, after he had eaten until he could not take another bite. "Besides, everything is fair in war- times. When you're raiding through the enemy's country it's supposed you'll live on the spoils around you. Well, I'm going to live, and Carl Potzfeldt is my enemy, all right. He's proved that in a dozen different ways."

That idea set him to thinking about Bessie again, how she had taken such a queer way to try to warn him, after overhearing her guardian plotting with one of his men the injury to one or both of the young Americans.

"Now I wonder," Jack mused, as he lay in perfect peace with the world, for he had eaten his fill, "how he knew we had joined the Lafayette Escadrille. But then those German spies learn a lot of things, and he may have been keeping tabs on Tom and me right along. Deep down in his heart he suspected we'd bother him, and so he wanted to get us before we had a chance to strike. Well, the shoe is on the other foot, it seems."

The morning advanced. Fortunately it proved to be a fair day for so early in April. Had a storm arisen Jack might have found it hard to find shelter. As it was, all he had to do was to lie under the bushes and doze from time to time.

Whenever he got to thinking of Tom a queer feeling came over him. It made him uneasy, though he could not explain why that should be so; and from time to time he took himself to task for being worried.

"Of course Tom got back safe and sound," he would muse. "He's too clever a pilot to make a bad job of such a business. And yet, if he doesn't come to-night I'll be terribly anxious. Oh, forget all that! will you, Jack Parmly? Think of something pleasant now. For instance, that it's nearly high noon, and most folks lunch then."

He had just calmed down again, when he had a sudden chill. Men were working in a field about three hundred yards away, for he could hear them calling to one another in German.

Suddenly there came a series of snappy barks. Jack looking around was horrified to discover a small dog. It was a dachschund, long of body, and with crooked, bandy legs. It was standing before the hidden boy and evidently bent on telling everybody by his barks that some suspicious person was hiding in the bushes. It was a crisis that made Jack's blood run cold!

XXV. Back To Safety— Conclusion

Jack hardly knew what to do. He made threatening gestures at the dog, but they, of course, only added to the trouble, for the animal renewed his barking more briskly than ever. Then Jack had an inspiration, such as sometimes comes when all seems lost. If the dog continued his barking, sooner or later one of the men working in the field not far off would have his curiosity aroused, and come to ascertain what sort of wild animal the dog had treed.

Jack unfastened his package of food. Since stern tactics had no effect he meant to try to make friends with the dachschund. Dogs are always more or less hungry, he argued; and this must be especially true at that time in every part of Germany, Alsace-Lorraine not excepted, since the pinch of two-and-a-half years of war had made terrible inroads on all kinds of food.

Jack commenced to eat. The dog kept on barking, though not quite so savagely now. The smell of the food had reached him, and he would occasionally give a little imploring whine between his barks.

So Jack spoke to him in a soft, wheedling tone. Then he held up a scrap of meat, and caught the eager attention of the little beast; after which he tossed it to him. It vanished like a flash. The dog even wagged his tail, as if to let the man know his animosity was quickly giving way to interest. Surely any one who had all that food along with him could not be a suspicious personage.

The next scrap fell a little short, and the dog advanced to get it. So by degrees Jack tempted him, until in the end he was patting the squatty animal on the back, and still feeding him. They were now the best of friends. Kindness had accomplished what all the threatening gestures, supplemented with many sticks hurled at the beast, could never have brought about.

Jack believed he had saved himself from discovery. He could easily understand what hardships must have awaited him had he ever fallen into the hands of Carl Potzfeldt.

The afternoon went by very tediously. The dog came and went, staying for short periods with Jack. The vast store of food was a magnet that held the little beast fast. It had doubtless been a long time since he had had his full.

By degrees the day waned, and evening came along.

Jack never saw the sun set with less regret than he did on that occasion. Still he knew that long hours must pass before the moon would peep in view above the eastern horizon.

As he sat, he allowed his thoughts to roam backward. Once more in imagination he could see his friends who were on the other side of the ocean. Then for a change he would take another "snack," as he called it, for lack of anything else to occupy his attention.

Several times also he dozed, but always arousing with a start at some sound, under the impression that it might be Tom who had come, and, not finding him, gone away again.

Finally he began to believe it must surely be past midnight; and the late moon would presently be making an appearance. On looking closely toward the east he became aware that the heavens were betraying such a fact, for a distinct silvery glow was beginning to appear, low down.

Then came a streak of light. It was the moon. Slowly she mounted higher, as if more or less ashamed of the dilapidated appearance of her usually smiling face.

Jack had earlier in the night changed his place of lodging. He again occupied his former quarters close to the spot where he and Tom had landed when they wished to overhaul the motor that was acting so badly.

The minutes dragged.

Then once more Jack bent his head, and put a hand up to his ear to listen. He laughed to himself with glee.

"That's Tom coming!" he muttered joyously. "I knew Tom wouldn't fail me. All the same I'll be mighty glad when I'm aboard the plane and on the air route to Bar-le-Duc and my own cot."

Louder grew the sounds. There could not be the slightest doubt about it now, Jack decided. A plane was coming at top speed, and keeping not a great distance above the treetops of the little valley in which the house of Carl Potzfeldt and the road to Metz lay.

Louder grew the insistent drumming. Jack wondered whether some of those at the chateau might not also hear the racket, and, guessing what it would mean, hasten out to the field in time to give Tom and himself a volley of shots.

Now the plane was coming, like a great condor of the Andes about to alight on a mountain peak. Jack gauged full well where it would land. He ran with all his might to be close to the spot. The less time wasted in getting him aboard the better for their safety, he believed, remembering what cause Carl Potzfeldt now had for being suspicious when a plane visited his meadow.

Then the big Caudron ran along the ground and came to a full stop.

"Jack!"

"Yes, Tom, I'm here, and mighty glad to see you!" cried the lad who had counted the minutes until his brain seemed to reel with the strain.

"Get aboard in a hurry, Jack. We've no time to waste here."

"I know that even better than you do," returned the other.

There was indeed need of haste. The air service boys could hear voices from where the chateau was located. Someone had heard the humming of the oncoming airplane. It was Potzfeldt himself, and now he and two of his men came hurrying out on the field, all armed with pistols.

Jack only waited to give the propellers a whirl, and then, as the motor took up its work, he made a leap for his seat. Oh, how good it seemed to be once more in that airplane!

"Stop! Stop!" roared a guttural voice in German. "Stop, or we fire!"

Now the airplane was moving along the ground, bumping and rocking considerably. But Tom knew how to manage, and presently the plane commenced to soar slowly upward.

Loud and angry voices announced the fact that Carl Potzfeldt had arrived close enough to get a view of the rising plane in the misty light of the moon.

"Stop! I command you! Stop!" roared the German. And then came the crack! crack! crack! of firearms.

The air service boys, because of the noise of the motor, did not hear the discharge of the pistols, but suddenly Jack heard the spatter of a bullet as it struck the machine close beside him. Then he ducked and made a motion to Tom to let his chum know that they were under fire.

But the machine was gaining headway rapidly, and presently they were so high that those below could no longer reach them. Up and up they went until they were thousands of feet above the valley that had been the scene of this remarkable adventure.

Tom headed back along the course he had just come. It was now easy to pick up one landmark after another, and in due course of time they passed over the lines once more. Of course, the sound of the plane's propellers was heard by the Germans, and some shrapnel was sent after them; but as Tom was careful to keep high in the air, this did not reach them, and soon they were out of the danger belt.

Fifteen minutes later they made a landing, this time on the well remembered aviation field of Bar-le-Duc. Here there were attendants on hand ready to care for the machines.

"Glad to see you got back," said one of the attendants, grinning. He knew that Tom had gone off on the second trip to bring Jack.

The two air service boys found a car to take them to the villa. The long ride through the night air had made both of them very sleepy, and yet neither felt just then like retiring.

"It's a lucky thing, Tom," said Jack, between yawns, "that I had this fur- lined pilot's coat along with me. Only for that I'd have been mighty cold out there in the open last night, with no chance for a fire."

"Well, it's all past now, Jack. Tell me what happened to you during my absence."

Jack, was nothing loath, and as quickly as possible gave his chum the particulars of how he had gone into hiding and almost been betrayed by the dog.

Tom had already told Jack about what had become of Mrs. Gleason and Bessie. They had been taken to a house some miles back of the lines, and were to be made comfortable there for the night.

"And early in the morning they are to start for Paris," Tom said with satisfaction. "I managed through our captain to get them passage aboard a train that is to take some wounded back to the base hospitals. Mrs. Gleason says she means to stay in Paris and help all she can as a Red Cross nurse, for she has had some experience in nursing."

"That's fine!" was Jack's comment. And then for the time being he became somewhat silent.

Tom could easily understand that his chum was cherishing a hope that some time or other when they were taking a vacation from their arduous duties while flying for France, the pair of them might visit the French metropolis, and if so they would certainly try to see Bessie and her mother again.

"And I've got more news to tell," remarked Tom, when the pair were about to turn in for their much-needed sleep. "You'll remember about that message we found in the capsule on the leg of the homing pigeon. Well, one of the other pigeons we found was used to send a false message to the Germans, telling them that a certain part of the French line was very weak. A short while later the Germans made a furious attack on that part of the line, and, believe me, they caught it for fair— the plucky French soldiers, aided by the artillery, literally wiped up the ground with them."

"That's great news!" cried Jack. "Then it paid to bring down that pigeon, didn't it?"

"It sure did, Jack!"

Two days later came a most important announcement, especially to the American airmen.

"Things are coming our way at last," the valiant commander announced, as they crowded about him. "The papers this morning say that Uncle Sam has at last got his back up. Any day may now bring the glorious news from across the Atlantic, telling that the United States has taken the steps that will put her in this World War against the Central Powers. Then it will be all over but the shouting."

"That's right!" cried Jack.

"You just leave it to Uncle Sam to do it!" added Tom.

Many more adventures were in store for the young aviators, and what some of them were will be related in the next volume of this series, to be entitled "Air Service Boys Over the Rhine; Or, Fighting Above the Clouds."

And here for the present let us leave the air service boys and say good-bye.

THE END

Air Service Boys In the Big Battle

or

Silencing the Big Guns

Contents

I. Bad News From the Air

II. A Girl's Appeal

III. Anxious Warning

IV. Transferred

V. The Resolve

VI. In Paris

VII. The American Front

VIII. A Battle In the Air

IX. The Falling Glove

X. Stunts

XI. Over the Lines

XII. A Perfect Shot

XIII. A Daring Scheme

XIV. Will they Succeed?

XV. Badly Hit

XVI. Just In Time

XVII. A Crash

XVIII. Getting a Zeppelin

XIX. On Patrol

XX. Captured

XXI. The Clew

XXII. Nellie's Resolve

XXIII. The Big Battle

XXIV. Silencing the German Guns

XXV. The Rescue

I. BAD NEWS FROM THE AIR

"Well, Tom, how's your head now?"

"How's my head? What do you mean? There's nothing the matter with my head," and the speaker, who wore the uniform of a French aviator, glanced up in surprise from the cot on which he was reclining in his tent near the airdromes that stretched around a great level field, not far from Paris.

"Oh, isn't there?" questioned Jack Parmly, with a smile. "Then I beg your pardon for asking, my cabbage! I beg your pardon, Sergeant Raymond!"

Tom Raymond, whose, chum had addressed him by the military title, looked curiously at his companion, and smiled at the appellation of the term cabbage. It was one of the many little tricks picked up by association with their French flying comrades, of speaking to a friend by some odd, endearing term. It might be cucumber or rose, cabbage or cart wheel—the words mattered not, it was the meaning back of them.

"Say, is anything the matter?" went on Tom, as his chum, attired like himself', but wearing an old blouse covered with oil and grease, continued to smile. "What gave you the notion that my head hurt?"

"I didn't say it hurt. I only asked how it was. The swelling hasn't begun to subside in mine yet, and I was wondering if it had in yours."

"Swelling? Subside? What in the world—"

Jack Parmly brought to a sudden termination the rapid torrent of words from the mouth of his churn by silently pointing to a small medal fastened to the uniform jacket of his friend. It was the coveted croix de guerre.

"Oh, that!" exclaimed Tom.

"Nothing else, my pickled beet!" answered Jack. "Doesn't it make your head swell up as if it would burst every time you look at it? Now don't say it doesn't, for that's the way it affects me, and I'm sure you're not very different. And every time I read the citation that goes with the medal—well, I'm just aching for a chance to show it to the folks back home, aren't you, Sergeant?"

Tom Raymond started a bit at the second use of the title.

"I see you aren't any more used to it than I am!" exclaimed Jack. "Well, it'll be a little time before we stop looking around to see if it isn't some one behind us they're talking to. So I thought I'd practice it a bit on you. And you can do the same for me. I should think, out of common politeness, you'd get up, salute and call me the same."

"Oh! Now I see what you're driving at," voiced Tom, as he glanced up from a momentary look at his medal to the face of his comrade-in-arms, or perhaps in flying would be more appropriate. "The wind's in that quarter, is it?"

"No wind at all to speak of," broke in Jack. "If you'd like to go for a fly, and see if we can bag a Boche or two, I'm with you."

"Against orders, Jack. I'd like to, but we were ordered here for rest and observation work; and you know, as well as I do, that obeying orders is just as important as sending a member of the Hun Flying Circus down where he can't do any more of his grandstand stunts. But I'm hoping the time will come when we can climb up back of our machine guns again, and do our bit to show that the little old U. S. A. is still on the map."

"I guess that time'll soon come, Tom, old man. I heard rumors that a lot of us were to be sent up nearer the front shortly, and if they don't include you and me, there'll be something doing in this camp!"

"That's what I say. So you thought I'd have a swelled head, did you, because they gave us the croix de guerre?"

"I confess I had a faint suspicion that way," admitted Jack. "Both of us being advanced to sergeants was a big step, too."

"It was," agreed Tom. "I almost wish they hadn't done it, for there are lots of others in the escadrille that deserve it fully as much, and some more, than we do."

"That's right. But you can't make these delightful Frenchmen see anything the way you want 'em to. Once they get a notion in their heads that you've done something for la belle Frame, they're your friends for life, kissing you on both cheeks and pinning medals on you wherever they'll stick."

"Well, they mean all right, Jack," said Tom. "And there aren't any braver or more lovable people on the face of the earth than these same French. They've done more and suffered more for their country than we dream of. And it's only natural that they should say 'much obliged,' in their own particular way, to any one they think is helping to free them from the Germans."

"I suppose you're right. But advancing us to sergeants would have been enough, without pinning the decorations on us and mentioning us in the order of the day, as well as giving us as fine a citation as ever was signed by a commanding general. However, it's all in the day's work, though when we flew over the German super cannons, and did our bit in helping demolish them so they couldn't shell Paris any more, we didn't think—or, at least, I didn't—that we'd be sitting here talking about it."

"Me either," agreed Tom. "But, to get down to brass tacks, what have you been doing to get into such a mess? You look like a chauffeur of the old days they tell of when they had to climb under the car to see if it needed oiling—"

"That's just about what I have been doing," admitted Jack. "When I heard the rumor that our escadrille might get orders to move at any hour, I decided that it was up to me to look MY machine over. It didn't make that nose dive just the way I wanted it to the last time I was up, and I'm not taking any chances. So I've been crawling in and around and under it—"

"While I've been lying here I taking it easy!" broke in Tom. "I don't call that fair of you, Jack," and he seemed genuinely hurt.

"Go easy now, my pickled onion!" laughed his chum. "I wasn't going to leave you out in the cold. I just came to tell you that you'd better stop looking like a moving picture of an airman, and put on some old duds to look over your own craft. And here you go and—"

"All right, old ham sandwich!" laughed Tom.

"I'll forgive you. I'm going to do the same as you, and tinker with my machine. If, as you say, we're likely to be on the job again soon, I don't want too take any chances either. Where's that mechanician of mine? There was something wrong with my joy stick, he said, the last time I came down out of the clouds to take an enforced rest, and I might as well start with that, if there's any repairing to be done—"

Tom flung off his uniform jacket, with the two silver wings, denoting that he was a full-fledged airman, and sent an orderly to summon his chief mechanician, for each aviator had several helpers to run messages for him, as well as to see that his machine is in perfect trim.

Experts are needed to see to it that the machine and the aviator are in perfect trim, leaving for the airman himself the trying and difficult task, sometimes, of flying upside down, while he is making observations of the enemy with one eye, and fighting off a Boche with the other—ready to kill or be killed.

Sergeants Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly, chums and fellow airmen flying for France, started toward the aerodromes where their machines were kept when not in use. They were both attired now for hard and not very clean work, though the more laborious part would be done by mechanics at their orders. Still the lads themselves would leave nothing to chance. Indeed no airman does, for in very, truth his He and the success of an army may, at times, depend on the strength or weakness of a seemingly insignificant bit of wire or the continuity of a small gasoline pipe.

"Well, it'll seem good to get up in the air again," remarked Jack. "A little rest is all right, but too much is more than enough."

"Right 0, my sliced liberty bond!" laughed Tom. "And now—"

Their talk was interrupted by a cheer that broke out in front of a recreation house, in reality a YMCA hut, or le Foyer du Soldat as it was called. It was where the airmen went when not on duty to read the papers, write letters and buy chocolate.

"What's up now?" asked Jack, as he and his chum looked toward the cheering squad of aviators and their assistants.

"Give it up. Let's go over and find out."

They broke into a run as the cheering continued, and then they saw hats being thrown into the air and men capering about with every evidence of joy.

"We must have won a big battle!" cried Jack.

"Seems so," agreed Tom. "Hi there! what is it?" he asked in French of a fellow aviator.

"What is it? You ask me what? Ah, joy of my life! It is you who ought to know first! It is you who should give thanks! Ah!"

"Yes, that's all right, old man," returned Jack in English. "We'll give thanks right as soon as we know what it is; but we aren't mind readers, you know, and there are so many things to guess at that there's no use in wasting the time. Tell us, like a good chap!" he begged in French, for he saw the puzzled look on the face of the aviator Tom had addressed.

"It is the best news ever!" was the answer. "The first of your brave countrymen have arrived to help us drive the Boche from France! The first American Expeditionary Force, to serve under your brave General Pershing, has reached the shores of France safely, in spite of the U-boats, and are even now marching to show themselves in Paris! Ah, is it any wonder that we rejoice? How is it you say in your own delightful country? Two cheers and a lion! Ah!"

"Tiger, my dear boy! Tiger!" laughed Jack. "And, while you're about it, you might as well make it three cheers and done with it. Not that it makes any great amount of difference in this case, but it's just the custom, my stuffed olive!"

And then he and Tom were fairly carried off their feet by the rush of enthusiastic Frenchmen to congratulate them on the good news, and to share it with them.

"Is it really true?" asked Tom. "Has any substantial part of Uncle Sam's boys really got here at last?"

He was told that such was the case. The news had just been received at the headquarters of the flying squad to which Tom and Jack were attached. About ten thousand American soldiers were even then on French soil. Their coming had long been waited for, and the arrangements sailed in secret, and the news was known in American cities scarcely any sooner than it was in France, so careful had the military authorities been not to give the lurking German submarines a chance to torpedo the transports.

"Is not that glorious news, my friend?" asked the Frenchman who had given it to Tom and Jack.

"The best ever!" was the enthusiastic reply. And then Jack, turning to his chum, said in a low voice, as the Frenchman hurried back to the cheering throng: "You know what this means for us, of course?"

"Rather guess I do!" was the response. "It means we've got to apply for a transfer and fight under Pershing!"

"Exactly. Now how are we going to do it?"

"Oh, I fancy it will be all right. Merely a question of detail and procedure. They can't object to our wanting to fight among our own countrymen, now that enough of them are over here to make a showing. I suppose this is the first of the big army that's coming."

"I imagine so," agreed Jack. "Hurray! this is something like. There's going to be hard fighting. I realize that. But this is the beginning of the end, as I see it."

"That's what! Now, instead of tinkering over our machines, let's see the commandant and—-"

Jack motioned to his chum to cease talking. Then he pointed up to the sky. There was a little speck against the blue, a speck that became larger as the two Americans watched.

"One of our fliers coming bark," remarked Tom in a low voice.

"I hope he brings more good news," returned Jack.

The approaching airman came rapidly nearer, and then the throngs that had gathered about the headquarters building to discuss the news of the arrival of the first American forces turned to watch the return of the flier.

"It's Du Boise," remarked Tom, naming an intrepid French fighter. He was one of the "aces," and had more than a score of Boche machines to his credit. "He must have been out 'on his own,' looking for a stray German."

"Yes, he and Leroy went out together," assented Jack. "But I don't see Harry's machine," and anxiously he scanned the heavens.

Harry Leroy was, like Tom and Jack, an American aviator who had lately joined the force in which the two friends had rendered such valiant service. Tom and Jack had known him on the other side—had, in fact, first met and become friendly with him at a flying school in Virginia. Leroy had suffered a slight accident which had put him out of the flying service for a year, but he had persisted, had finally been accepted, and was welcomed to France by his chums who had preceded him.

"I hope nothing has happened to Harry," murmured Tom; "but I don't see him, and it's queer Du Boise would come back without him."

"Maybe he had to—for gasoline or something," suggested Jack.

"I hope it isn't any worse than that," went on Tom. But his voice did not carry conviction.

The French aviator landed, and as he climbed out of his machine, helped by orderlies and others who rushed up, he was seen to stagger.

"Are you hurt?" asked Tom, hurrying up.

"A mere scratch-nothing, thank you," was the answer.

"Where's Harry Leroy?" Jack asked. "Did you have to leave him?"

"Ah, monsieur, I bring you bad news from the air," was the answer. "We were attacked by seven Boche machines. We each got one, and then—well, they got me—but what matters that? It is a mere nothing."

"What of Harry?" persisted Tom.

"Ah, it is of him I would speak. He is—he fell inside the enemy lines; and I had to come back for help. My petrol gave out, and I—"'

And then, pressing his hands over his breast, the brave airman staggered and fell, as a stream of blood issued from beneath his jacket.

II. A GIRI'S APPEAL

At once half a score of hands reached out to render aid to the stricken airman, whose blood was staining the ground where he had fallen.

Tom, seeing that his fellow aviator was more desperately wounded than the brave man had admitted, at once summoned stretcher-bearers, and he was carried to the hospital. Then all anxiously awaited the report of the surgeons, who quickly prepared to render aid to the fighter of the air.

"How is he?" asked Jack, as he and Tom, lingering near the hospital, saw one of the doctors emerge.

"He is doing very nicely," was the answer, given in French, for the two boys of the air spoke this language now with ease, if not always with absolute correctness.

"Then he isn't badly hurt?" asked Jack.

"No. The wound in his chest was only a flesh one, but it bled considerably. Two bullets from an aircraft machine gun struck ribs, and glanced off from them, but tore the flesh badly. The bleeding was held in check by the pressure DU Boise exerted on the wounds underneath his jacket, but at last he grew faint from loss of blood, and then the stream welled out. With rest and care he will be all right in a few days."

"How soon could we talk with him?" asked Tom.

"Talk with him?" asked the surgeon. "Is that necessary? He is doing very well, and—"

"Tom means ask him some questions," explained Jack. "You see, he started to tell us about our chum, Harry Leroy, who was out scouting with him. Harry was shot down, so Du Boise said, but he didn't get a chance to give any particulars, and we thought—"

"It will be a day or so before he will be able to talk to you," the surgeon said. "He is very weak, and must not be disturbed."

"Well, may we talk with him just as soon as possible?" eagerly asked Jack. "We want to find out where it was that Harry went down in his machine—out of control very likely—and if we get a chance—"

"We'd like to take it out on those that shot him down!" interrupted Torn. "Du Boise must have noticed the machines that fought him and Harry, and if we could get any idea of the Boches who were in them— "

"I see," and the surgeon bowed and smiled approval of their idea. "You want revenge. I hope you get it. As soon as we think he is able to talk," and he nodded in the direction of the hospital, "we will let you see him. Good luck to you, and confusion to the Huns!"

"Gee, but this is tough luck I" murmured Tom, as he and his chum turned away. "Just as we were getting ready to go back into the game, too! Had it all fixed up for Harry to fly with us in a sort of a triangle scheme to down the Boches, and they have to go and plump him off the map. Well, it is tough!"

"Yes, sort of takes the fun out of the good news we heard a while ago," agreed Jack. "I mean about Pershing's boys getting over here to France. I hope Harry's only wounded, instead of killed. But if the Huns have him a prisoner—good-night!"

"There's only one consolation," added Tom. "Their airmen are the best of the lot Of course that isn't saying much, but they behave a little more like human beings than the rest of the Boche gang; and if Harry has fallen a prisoner to them he'll get a bit of decent treatment, anyhow."

"That's so. We'll hope for that. And now let's go on with what we started when we saw Du Boise coming back—let's see what chance we have of being transferred to an All American escadrille."

The boys started across the field again toward the headquarters, and, nearing it, they saw, in a small motor car, a girl sitting beside the military driver. She was a pretty girl, and it needed only one glance to show that she was an American.

"Hello!" exclaimed Tom, with a low whistle. "Look who's here!"

"Do you know her?" asked Jack.

"No. Wish I did, though."

Jack glanced quickly and curiously at his chum.

"Oh, you needn't think you're the only chap that has a drag with the girls," went on Tom. "Just because Bessie Gleason—"

"Cut it out!" exclaimed Jack. "Look, she acts as though she wanted to speak to us."

The military chauffeur had alighted from the machine and was talking to one of the French aviation officers. Meanwhile the girl, left to herself, was looking about the big aviation field, with a look of wonder, mixed with alarm and nervousness. She caught sight of Tom and Jack, and a smile came to her face, making her, as Tom said afterward, the prettiest picture he had seen in a long while.

"You're Americans, aren't you?" began the girl, turning frankly to them. "I know you are! And, oh, I'm in such trouble!"

Tom stepped ahead of Jack, who was taking off his cap and bowing.

"Let me have a show for my white alley," Tom murmured to his chum. "You've got one girl."

"You win," murmured Jack.

"Yes, we're from the United States," said Tom. "But it's queer to see a girl here—from America or anywhere else. How'd you get through the lines, and what can we do for you?"

"I am looking for my brother," was the answer. "I understood he was stationed here, and I managed to get passes to come to see him, but it wasn't easy work. I met this officer in his motor car, and he brought me along the last stage of the journey. Can you tell me where my brother is? His name is Harry Leroy."

Torn said afterward that he felt as though he had gone into a spinning nose dive with a Boche aviator on his tail, while Jack admitted that he felt somewhat as he did the time his gasoline pipe was severed by a Hun bullet when he was high in the air and several miles behind the enemy's lines,

"Your—your brother!" Tom managed to mutter.

"Yes, Harry Leroy. He's from the United States, too. Perhaps you know him, as I notice you are both aviators. He told me if I ever got to France to come to see him, and he mentioned the names of two young men—I have them here somewhere—"

She began to search in the depths of a little leather valise she carried, and, at that moment, the military chauffeur who had brought her to the aviation field turned to her, and spoke rapidly in French.

She understood the language, as did Tom and Jack, and at the first words her face went white. For the chauffeur informed her that her brother, Harry Leroy, whom she had come so far to see, was, even then, lying dead or wounded within the German lines.

"Oh!" the girl murmured, her fare becoming whiter and more white. "Oh—Harry!"

Then she would have fallen from the seat, only Tom leaped forward and caught her in his arms.

And while efforts were being made to restore the girl to consciousness, may I not take this opportunity of telling my new readers something of the previous books of this series, so that they may read this one more intelligently?

Torn Raymond and Jack Parmly, as related in the initial volume, "Air Service Boys Flying for France; or The Young Heroes of the Lafayette Escadrille," were Virginians. Soon after the great world conflict started, they burned with a desire to fight on the side of freedom, and it was as aviators that they desired to help.

Accordingly they went to an aviation school in Virginia, under the auspices of the Government, and there learned the rudiments of flying. Tom's father had invented an aeroplane stabilizer, but, as told in the story, the plans and other papers had been stolen by a German spy.

Tom and his chum resolved to get possession of the documents, and they kept up the search after they reached France and were made members of the Lafayette Escadrille. It was in France that they met Adolph Tuessing, the German spy.

The second volume, entitled "Air Service Boys Over the Enemy's Lines; or The German Spy's Secret," takes the two young men through further adventures. They had become acquainted on the steamer with a girl named Bessie Gleason and her mother. Carl Potzfeldt, a German sailing under false colors, claimed to be a friend of Bessie and her mother, but Jack, who was more than casually interested in the girl, was suspicious of this man. And his suspicions proved correct, for Potzfeldt had planned a daring trick.

After some strenuous happenings, in which the Air Service Boys assisted, Bessie and her mother were rescued from the clutches of Potzfeldt, and went to Paris, Mrs. Gleason engaging in Red Cross work, and Bessie helping her as best she could.

Immediately preceding this present volume is the third, called "Air Service Boys Over the Rhine; or Fighting Above the Clouds."

By this time the United States had entered the great war on the side of humanity and democracy.

Then the world was startled by the news that a great German cannon was firing on Paris seventy miles away, and consternation reigned for a time. Tom and Jack had a hand in silencing the great gun, for it was they who discovered where it was hidden. Also in the third volume is related how Tom's father, who had disappeared, was found again.

The boys passed through many startling experiences with their usual bravery, so that, when the present story opens, they were taking a much needed and well-earned rest. Mr. Raymond, having accomplished his mission, had returned to the United States.

Then, as we have seen, came the news of the arrival of the first of Pershing's forces, and with it came the sad message that Harry Leroy, the chum of Torn and Jack, had fallen behind the German lines. And whether he was alive now, though wounded, or was another victim of the Hun machine guns, could not be told.

"Harry's sister couldn't have come at a worse time," remarked Tom, as he rejoined Jack, having carried the unconscious girl to the same hospital where Du Boise lay wounded.

"I should say not!" agreed Jack. "Do you really suppose she's Harry's sister?"

"I don't see Any reason to doubt it. She said so, didn't she?"

"Oh, yes, of course. I was just wondering. Say, it's going to be tough when she wakes up and realizes what's happened."

"You bet it is! This has been a tough day all around, and if it wasn't for the good news that our boys are in France I'd feel pretty rocky. But now we've got all the more incentive to get busy!" exclaimed Tom.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean get our machines in fighting trim. I'm going out and get a few Germans to make up for what they did to Harry."

"You're right! I'm with you! But what about what's her name—I mean Harry's sister?"

"I didn't hear her name. Some of the Red Cross nurses are looking after her. They promised to let me know when she came to. We can offer to help her, I suppose, being, as you might say, neighbors."

"Sure!" agreed Jack. "I'm with you. But let's go and—"

However they did not go at once, wherever it was that Jack was going to propose, for, at that moment, one of the Red Cross nurses attached to the aviation hospital carne to the door and beckoned to the boys.

"Miss Leroy is conscious now," was the message. "She wants to see you two," and the nurse smiled at them.

Tom and Jack found Miss Leroy, looking pale, but prettier than ever, sitting up in a chair. She leaned forward eagerly as they entered, and, holding out her hands, exclaimed:

"They tell me you are my brother's chums! Oh, can you not get me some news of him? Can you not let him know that I have come so far to see him? I am anxious! Oh, where is he?" and she looked from Tom to Jack, and then to Tom again.

III. ANXIOUS WAITING

Nellie Leroy—for such the boys learned was her name—broke the silence, that was growing tense, by asking:

"Is there any hope? Tell me, do you think there is a chance that my brother may be alive?"

"Yes, there is, certainly!" exclaimed Tom quickly, before Jack had an opportunity to give, possibly, a less hopeful answer.

"And if he is alive, is there a chance that he may be rescued—that I may go to him?" she went on.

"Hardly that," said Tom, slowly. "It's a wonder you ever got as near to the front as this. But as for getting past the German lines—"

"Then what can I do?" asked Nellie Leroy, eagerly. "Oh, tell me something that I can do. I'm used to hard work," she went on. "I've been a Red Cross nurse for some time, and I helped in one big explosion of a munitions plant in New Jersey before I came over. That's one reason they let me come—because I proved that I could do things I" and she did look very efficient, in spite of her paleness, in spite of her, seeming frailness. There was an indefinable air about her which showed that she would carry through whatever she undertook. "I never fainted before—never."

"It's like this," said Tom, and Jack seemed content, now, to let his chum play the chief role. "When one of us goes down in his machine back of the enemy's lines, those left over here never really know what has happened for a few days."

"And how do they know then?' she asked.

"The German airmen are more decent than some of the other Hun forces we're fighting," explained Torn. "Generally after they capture one of our escadrille members, dead or alive, they fly over our lines a few days later and drop a cap, or a glove, or something that belongs to the prisoner. Sometimes they attach a note, written by one of their airmen or from the prisoner, giving news of his condition."

"And you think they may do this in my brother's case?" asked Nellie.

"They are very likely to," assented Tom, and Jack, to whom the girl looked for confirmation, nodded, his agreement.

"How long shall we have to wait?" Harry's sister asked.

"There is no telling," said Tom "Sometimes it's a week before their airmen get a chance to fly over our lines. It all depends."

"On what?"

"On how the battle goes," answered Tom. "If there is much fighting, and many engagements in the air, the Boches don't get a chance to fly over and drop tokens of our men they may have shot down. We do the same for them, so it's six of one and a half dozen of the other. Often for a week we don't get a chance to let them know about prisoners we have, because the fighting is so severe."

"Will it be that way now?" the girl went on.

"Hard to say—we don't have the ordering of battles," replied Jack. "But it's been rather quiet for a few days, and it's likely to continue so. If it does one of their men may fly over to-morrow, or the next day, and drop something your brother wore—or even a note from him."

"Oh, I hope they do the last!" she murmured. "If I could have a note from him I'd be the happiest girl alive I I'd know, then, that he was all right."

"He may be," said Tom, trying to be hopeful. "You see Du Boise, who was with Harry when the fight took place, is himself wounded, so he can't tell us much about it."

"Yes, they told me that my brother's companion reached here badly hurt. He is so brave! I wish they would let me help take care of him. I understand a great deal about wounds, and I'm not at all afraid of the sight of blood. It was silly of me to faint just now, but—I—I couldn't help it. I'd been counting so much on seeing Harry, and when they told me he was gone—"

She covered her face with her hands, and endeavored to repress her emotion.

"You're not Harry's little sister, are you?" asked Jack, hoping to change the current of talk into other and happier channels.

"No; that's Mabel—Mab he calls her. She's younger than I. Did he often speak of her?"

"Oh, yes; and you too!" exclaimed Tom, so warmly that Nellie blushed, and the damask tint in her hitherto pale cheeks was most becoming.

"We've seen your picture, and Mab's too," went on Tom. "Harry keeps them just over his cot in the barracks. But I didn't recognize you when I saw you a little while ago in the machine. Though I might have, if so many things hadn't happened all at once, and made me sort of hazy," Tom explained.

"Then are you and my brother good friends?" asked Nellie.

"The best ever!" exclaimed Tom, and Jack warmly assented. "Not so many Americans are in this branch of the escadrille as are in others," Torn went on; "so Harry and Jack and I are a sort of little trio all by ourselves. He hardly ever goes up without us, but we are on a rest billet; and to-day he went up with Du Boise."

"If he had only come back!" sighed Nellie. "But there! I mustn't complain. Harry wouldn't let me if he were here. We both have to do our duty. Now I'm going to see what I can do to help, and not be silly and do any more fainting. I hope you'll pardon me," and she smiled at the two boys.

"Of course!" exclaimed Tom, with great emphasis, and again Miss Leroy blushed.

"Then, is to wait the only thing we can do?" she asked.

"That's all," assented Tom. "We may get a message from the clouds any day."

"And, oh! I shall pray that it may be favorable!" murmured the girl. "Perhaps I may question this Mr. Du Boise, and learn from him just what happened?" she interrogated.

"Yes, we want to talk to him ourselves, as soon as he's able to sit up," said Jack. "We want to get a shot at the Boche who downed Harry."

"So you are as fond of Harry as all that! I am glad!" exclaimed his sister. "Have you known him long?"

"We knew him slightly before we went to the flying school in Virginia with him," said Tom. "But down there, when we started in at 'grass-cutting,' and worked our way up, we grew to know him better. Then Jack and I got our chance to come over. But Harry had a smash, and he had to wait a year."

"Yes, I know. It almost broke his heart," said Miss Leroy. "I was away at school at the time, which accounts for my not knowing more of you boys, since Harry always wrote me, or told me, about his chums. Then, when I came back after my graduation, I found that he had sailed for France."

"And maybe we weren't glad to see him!" exclaimed Tom. "It was like getting letters from home."

"Yes, I recall, now, his mentioning that he had met over here some students from the Virginia school," said Miss Leroy. "Well, after Harry sailed I was wild to go, but father and mother would not hear of it at first. Then, when the war grew worse, and I showed them that I could do hard work for the Red Cross, they consented. So I sailed, but I never expected to get like this."

"Oh, well, everything may come out all right," said Tom, as cheerfully as he could. But, in very truth, he was not very hopeful in his heart.

For once an aviator succumbs to the hail of bullets from the German machine guns in an aircraft, and his own creature of steel and wings goes hurtling down, there is only a scant chance that the disabled airman will land alive.

Of course some have done it, and, even with their machines out of control and on fire, they have lived through the awful experience. But the chances were and are against them.

Harry Leroy had been seen to go down, apparently with his machine out of control, after a fusillade of Boche bullets. This much Du Boise had said before his collapse. As to what the fallen aviator's real fate was, time alone could disclose.

"I can only wait!" sighed Nellie, as the boys took their leave. "The days will be anxious ones—days of waiting. I shall help here all I can. You'll let me know the moment there is any news—good or bad—won't you?" she begged; and her eyes filled with tears.

"We'll bring you the news at once—night or day!" exclaimed Tom, vigorously.

As he and Jack walked out of the hospital, the latter remarked:

"You seem to be a favorite there, all right, Tom, my boy. If we weren't such good chums I might be a bit jealous."

"If you feel that way I'll drop Bessie Gleason a note!" suggested Tom, quickly.

"Don't!" begged Jack. "I'll be good!"

IV. TRANSFERRED

One glance at the bulletin board, erected just outside their quarters at the aerodrome, told Tom and Jack what they were detailed for that day. It was the day following the arrival of Nellie Leroy at that particular place in France, only to find that her brother was missing—either dead, or alive and a prisoner behind the German lines.

"Sergeant Thomas Raymond will report to headquarters at eight o'clock, to do patrol work."

"Sergeant Jack Parmly will report to headquarters at eight o'clock for reconnaissance with a photographer, who will be detailed."

Thus read the bulletin board, and Tom and Jack, looking at it, nodded to one another, while Tom remarked:

"Got our work cut out for us all right."

"Yes," agreed Jack. "Only I wish I could change places with you. I don't like those big, heavy machines."

But orders are orders, nowhere more so than in the aviation squad, and soon the two lads, after a hearty if hasty breakfast, were ready for the day's work. They each realized that when the sun set they might either be dead, wounded or prisoners. It was a life full of eventualities.

A little later the two young airmen, in common with their comrades, were ready. Some were to do patrol work, like Tom—that is fly over and along the German lines in small swift, fighting planes, to attack a Hun machine, if any showed, and to give notice of any attack, either from the air or on the ground. The latter attacks the airmen would observe in progress and report to the commanders of infantry or batteries who could take steps to meet the attack, or even frustrate it.

Tom was assigned to a speedy Spad machine, one of great power and lightness into which he climbed. He was to fly alone, and on his machine was a machine gun of the Vickers type, which had to be aimed by directing, or pointing, the aeroplane itself at the enemy.

After Tom had given a hasty but careful look at his craft, and had assured himself of the accuracy of the report of his mechanician that it had oil and petrol, his starter took his place in front of the propeller.

"Well, Jack," called Tom to his chum, across the field, where Jack was making his preparations for taking up a photographer in a big two-seated machine, "I wish you luck."

"Same to you, old man. If you see anything of Harry, and he's alive, tell him we'll bring him back home as soon as we get a chance."

"Do you think there is any chance?" asked Tom eagerly. "I wouldn't want anything better than to get Harry away from those Boches—and make his sister happy."

"Well, there's a chance, but it's a slim one, I'm afraid," remarked Jack. "We'll talk about it after we get back. Maybe there'll be a message from the Huns about him before the day is over."

"I hope so," murmured Tom. "If those Huns only act as decently toward us as we do toward them, we'll have some news soon."

For it is true, in a number of instances that the German aviators do drop within the allied lines news of any British, French or American birdman who is captured or killed inside the German lines.

"All ready?" asked Tom of his helper.

"Switch off, gas on," was the answer.

Tom made sure that the electrical switch was disconnected. If it was left on, in "contact" as it is called, and the mechanician turned the propeller blades, there might have been a sudden starting of the engine that would have instantly kill the man. But with the switch off there could be no ignition in the cylinders.

Slowly the man turned the big blades until each cylinder was sucked full of the explosive mixture of gasoline and air.

"Contact!" he cried, and Tom threw over the switch.

Then, stepping once more up to the propeller, the man gave it a pull, and quickly released it, jumping back out of harm's way.

With a throbbing roar the engine awoke to life and the propeller spun around, a blur of indistinctness. The motor was working sweetly. Toni throttled down, assured himself that everything was working well, and then, with a wave of his hand toward Jack, began to taxi across the field, to head up into the wind. All aeroplanes are started this way—directly into the wind, to rise against it and not with it. On and on he went and then he began to climb into the air. With him climbed other birdmen who were to do patrol and contact work with him, the latter being the term used when the airship keeps in contact through signaling with infantry or artillery forces on the ground, directing their efforts against the enemy.

Having seen Tom on his way, Jack turned to his own machine. As his chum had been, Jack was dressed warmly in fur garments, even to his helmet, which was fur lined. He had on two pairs of gloves and his eyes were protected with heavy goggles. For it is very cold in the upper regions, and the swift speed of the machine sends the wind cutting into one's face so that it is impossible to see from the eyes unless they are protected.

Jack's machine was a two-seater, of a heavy and comparatively safe type—that is it was safe as long as it was not shot down by a Hun. Jack was to occupy the front seat and act as pilot, while Harris, the photographer he was to take up, sat behind him, with camera, map, pencil and paper ready at hand for the making of observations.

On either side of the photographer's seat were six loaded drums of ammunition for the Lewis gun, for use against the ruthless Hun machines. Jack had a fixed Vicker machine weapon for his use.

"Hope I get a chance to use 'em," said Harris with a grin, as he climbed into his seat, patted the loaded drums, and nodded to Jack that he was ready.

The same procedure was gone through as in the case of Tom. The man spun the propeller, and they were ready to set off. Accompanying them were two other reconnaissance planes, and four experienced fighting pilots, two of them "aces," that is men who, alone, had each brought down five or more Hun planes. The big planes, used for obtaining news, pictures, and maps of the enemy's territory, are always accompanied by fighting planes, which look out for the attacking Germans, while the other, and less speedy, craft carry the men who are to bring back vital information.

"Let her go!" exclaimed Harris to Jack, and the latter nodded to the mechanician, who, after the order of "contact," spun the blades again and they were really off, together with the others.

Up and up went Jack, sending his machine aloft in big circles as the others were doing. Before him on a support was clamped a map, similar to the one supported in front of Harris, and by consulting this Jack knew, from the instructions he had received before going up, just what part of the enemy's territory he was to cover. He was under the direction of the photographer and map-maker, for the two duties were combined in this instance.

Up and up they went. There was no talking, for though this is possible in an aeroplane when the engine is shut off, such was not now the case. But Jack knew his business.

His indicator soon showed them to be up about fourteen thousand feet, and below them an artillery duel was in progress. It was a wonderful, but terrible sight. Immediately under them, and rather too near for comfort, shrapnel was bursting all around. The "Archies," or anti-aircraft guns of the Germans, were trying to reach the French planes, and, in addition to the bullets, "woolly bears" and "flaming onions" were sent up toward them. These are two types of bursting shells, the first so named because when it explodes it does so with a cloud of black smoke and a flaming center. I have never been able to learn how the "onions" got their name, unless it is from the stench let loose by the exploding gases.

Though they were fired at viciously, neither Jack nor his companion was hit, and they continued on their way, keeping at a good height, as did their associates, until they were well over the front German lines.

Jack noticed that some of the other planes were dropping lower, to give their observers a chance to do their work, and, in response to a shove in his back from the powerful field glasses carried by Harris, Jack sent his machine down to about the nine-thousand-foot level. By a glance at the map he could see that they were now over the territory concerning which a report was wanted.

They were now under a heavy fire from the German anti-aircraft guns, but Jack was too old a hand to let this needlessly worry him. He sent his machine slipping from side to side, holding it on a level keel now and then, to enable Harris to get the photographs he wanted. In addition, the observer was also making a hasty, rough, but serviceable map of what he saw.

Jack glanced down, and noted a German supply train puffing its way along toward some depot, and he headed toward this to give Harris a chance to note whether there were any supplies of ammunition, or anything else, that might profitably be bombed later. He also saw several columns of German infantry on the march, but as they were not out to make an attack now, they had to watch the Huns moving up to the front line trenches, there later, doubtless, to give battle.

Back and forth over the German lines flew Jack, Harris meanwhile doing important observation work. As Jack went lower he came under a fiercer fire of the batteries, until, it became so hot, from the shrapnel bursts, that he fain would have turned and made for home. But orders were orders, and Harris had not yet indicated that he had enough.

Twisting and turning, to make as poor a mark as possible for the enemy guns, Jack sent his machine here and there. The other pilots were doing the same. Machine guns were now opening up on them, and once the burst of fire came so close that Jack began to "zoom." That is he sent his craft up and down sharply, like the curves and bumps in a roller-coaster railway track.

By this time the leading plane gave the signal for the return, and, thankful enough that they had not been hit, Jack swung about. But the danger was not over. They had yet to pass across the enemy's front line trenches, and when Harris signaled Jack to go down low in crossing the lad wondered what the order was for. It was merely that the observer wanted to see what was going on there so he could report.

They went down to within a mile of the earth, and several times the plane was struck by pieces of shrapnel or bullets from machine guns. Twice flying bits of metal came uncomfortably close to Jack, but he was kept too busy with the management of his machine to more than notice them. Harris was working hard at the camera and the maps.

Then, suddenly, came the danger signal from the leading plane, and only just in time. Out from the German hangars came several battle machines. Harris dropped his pencil and got ready the automatic gun, but it was not needed, for, after approaching as though about to attack, the Huns suddenly veered off. Later the reason for this became known. A squadron of French planes had arisen as swiftly to give battle, and however brave the Hun may be when he outnumbers the enemy, he had yet to be known to take on a combat against odds.

So Jack and his observer safely reached the aerodrome again, bringing back much valuable information.

"Is Tom here yet?" was Jack's first inquiry after he had divested himself of his togs and men had rushed to the developing room the camera with its precious plates.

"Not yet," some of his chums told him. "They're having a fight upstairs I guess."

Jack nodded and looked anxiously in the direction in which Tom was last seen.

It was an hour before the scouting airplanes came back, and one was so badly shot up and its pilot so wounded that it only just managed to get over the French lines before almost crashing to earth.

"Are you all right, Tom?" cried Jack, as he rushed up to his chum, when he saw the latter getting out of his craft, rather stiff from the cold.

"Yes. They went at me hard—two of 'em but I think I accounted for one, unless he went into a spinning nose dive just to fool me."

"Oh, they'll do that if they get the chance."

"I know," assented Tom. "Hello!" he exclaimed as he noticed a splintered strut near his head. "That came rather close."

And indeed it had. For a bullet, or a piece of shrapnel, has plowed a furrow in the bit of supporting wood, not two inches away from Tom's head, though in the excitement of the fight he had not noticed it.

There had been a fight in the upper air and one of the French machines had not come home.

"Another man to await news of," said the flight lieutenant sadly, when the report reached him. "That's two in two days."

"No news of Leroy yet?" asked Tom and Jack, as they went out of headquarters after reporting.

"None, I am sorry to say. It is barely possible that he landed in some lonely spot and is still hiding out—if he is not killed. But I understand you two young men had something to request of me. I can give you some attention now," went on the commander of their squadron.

"We want to be transferred!" exclaimed Tom. "Now, that Pershing's men are here—"

"I understand," was the answer. "You want to fight with your countrymen. Well, I would do the same. I will see if I can get you transferred, though I shall much regret losing you."

He was as good as his word, and a week later, following some strenuous fights in the air, Tom and Jack received notice that they could report to the first United States air squadron, which was then being formed on that part of the front where the first of Pershing's men were brigaded with, the French and British armies.

Du Boise, who had brought word back of the fate that had befallen Harry Leroy, sent for Tom and Jack when it became known that they were to leave.

"Shall I ever see you again?" he asked wistfully.

"To be sure," was Tom's hearty answer. "We aren't going far away, and we'll fly over to see you the first chance we get. Besides, we're going to depend on you to give us some information regarding Leroy. If the Huns drop any message at all they'll do it at this aerodrome."

"Yes, I believe you're right," assented Du Boise, trying not to show the pain that racked him. "But it's so long, now, I begin to believe he must be dead, and either the Huns don't know it or they aren't going to bother to send us word. But I'll let you know as soon as I hear anything."

"Is his sister here yet?" asked Jack, for Tom and he had been too busy the last two days, getting ready to shift their quarters, to call on Nellie Leroy.

"She has gone back to Paris," answered Du Boise. "There was no place for her here. I can give you her address. I promised to let her know in case I got word about her brother."

"I wish you would give me the address!" exclaimed Tom eagerly, and his chum smiled at his show of interest.

V. THE RESOLVE

"Well, to-morrow, if all goes well, we'll be with Pershing's boys," remarked Jack, as he and Tom were sitting in their quarters after breakfast, the last day but one they were to spend in the Lafayette Escadrille with which they had so long been associated.

"That's so. We'll soon be on the firing line with Uncle Sam," agreed Tom. "Of course we've been with him, in a way, ever since we've been fighting, for it's all in the same cause. But there'll be a little more satisfaction in being 'on our own,' as the English say."

"You're right. What's on for to-day?" asked Jack.

"Haven't the least idea. But here comes a messenger now."

As Tom spoke he glanced from a window and saw an orderly coming toward their quarters. The man seemed in a hurry.

"Something's up!" decided Jack. "Maybe they've got word from poor Harry."

"I'm beginning to give him up," said Tom. "If they were going to let us have any news of him they'd have done it long ago—the beasts!" and he fairly snarled out the words.

"Still I'm not giving up," returned Jack. "I can't explain why, but I have a feeling that, some day, we'll see Harry Leroy again."

Tom shook his head.

"I wish I could be as hopeful as you," he said. "Maybe we'll see him again—or his grave. But I want to say, right now, that if ever I have a chance at the Hun who shot him down, that Hun Will get no mercy from me!"

"Same here!" echoed Jack. "But here comes the orderly."

The man entered and handed Jack a slip of paper. It was from the commander of their squadron, and said, in effect, that though Tom and Jack were no longer under his orders, having been duly transferred to another sector, yet he would be obliged if they would call on him, at his quarters.

"Maybe he has news!" exclaimed Jack, eagerly.

Again Tom shook his head.

"He'd have said so if that was the case," he remarked as he and his chum prepared to report at headquarters, telling the messenger they would soon follow him.

"Ah, young gentlemen, I am glad to see, you!" exclaimed the commander, and it was as friends that he greeted Tom and Jack and not as military subordinates. "Do you want to do me one last favor?"

"A thousand if we can!" exclaimed Jack, for he and Tom had caught something of the French enthusiasm of manner, from having associated with the brave airmen so long.

"Good! Then I shall feel free to ask. Know then, that I am a little short-handed in experienced airmen. The Huns have taken heavy toll of us these last few days," he went on sorrowfully, and Torn and Jack knew this to be so, for two aces, as well as some pilots of lesser magnitude, had been shot down. But ample revenge had been taken.

"By all rights you are entitled to a holiday before you join your new command, under the great Pershing," went on the flight commander. "However, as I need the services of two brave men to do patrol duty, I appeal to you. There is a machine gun nest, somewhere in the Boche lines, that has been doing terrible execution. If you could find the battery, and signal its location, we might destroy it with our artillery, and so save many brave lives for France," he went on. "I do not like to ask you—"

"Tell 'em to get out the machines!" interrupted Jack. "We were just wishing we could do something to make up for the loss of Harry Leroy, and this may give it to us. You haven't heard anything of him, have you?" he asked.

The commander shook his head.

"I fear we shall never hear from him," he said. "Though only yesterday we received back some of the effects of one of our men who was shot down behind their lines. I can not understand in Leroy's case."

"Well, we'll make 'em pay a price all right!" declared Tom. "And now what about this machine gun nest?"

The commander gave them such information as he had. It was not unusual, such work as Tom and Jack were about to undertake. As the officer had said, they were practically exempt now that they were about to be transferred. But they had volunteered, as he probably knew they would.

Two speedy Spad machines were run out for the use of Tom and Jack, each one to have his own, for the work they were to do was dangerous and they would have need of speed.

They looked over the machine guns to see that they were in shape for quick work, and as the one on the machine Tom selected had congealed oil on the mechanism, having lately returned from a high flight, another weapon was quickly attached. Nothing receives more care and attention at an aerodrome than the motor of the plane and the mechanism of the machine gun. The latter are constructed so as to be easily and quickly mounted and dismounted, and at the close of each day's flight the guns are carefully inspected and cleaned ready for the morrow.

"Locate the machine gun battery if you can," was the parting request to Tom and Jack as they prepared to ascend. "Send back word of the location as nearly as you can to our batteries, and the men there will see to the rest."

"We will!" cried the Americans.

Locating a machine gun nest is not as easy as picking out a hostile battery of heavier guns, for the former, being smaller, are more easily concealed.

But Tom and Jack would, of course, do their best to help out their friends, the French. Over toward the German lines they flew, and began to scan with eager eyes the ground below them. They could not fly at a very great height, as they needed to be low down in order to see, and in this position they were a mark for the anti-aircraft guns of the Huns.

They had no sooner got over the enemy trenches, and were peering about for the possible location of the machine gun emplacement, when they were greeted with bursts of fire. But by skillfully dodging they escaped being hit themselves, though their machines were struck. The two chums were separated by about a mile, for they wanted to cover as much ground as possible.

At last, to his great delight, Tom saw a burst of smoke from a building that had been so demolished by shell fire that it seemed nothing could now inhabit it. But the truth was soon apparent. The machine gun nest was in the cellar, and from there, well hidden, had been doing terrible execution on the allied forces. Pausing only to make sure of his surmise, Tom began to tap out on his wireless key the location of the hidden machine gun nest.

Most of the aeroplanes carry a wireless outfit. An aerial trails after them, and the electric impulses, dripping off this, so to speak, reach the battery headquarters. Owing to the noise caused by the motor of the airship, no message can be sent to the airman in return, and he has to depend on signs made on the ground, arrows or circles in white by day and lighted signals at night, to make sure that his messages are being received and understood.

The Allies, of course, possess maps of every sector of the enemy's front, so that by reference to these maps the aircraft observer can send back word as to almost the precise location of the battery which it is desired to destroy.

Quickly tapping out word where the battery was located, Tom awaited developments, circling around the spot in his machine. He was fired at from guns on the ground below, but, to his delight, no hostile planes rose to give him combat. A glance across the expanse, however, showed that Jack was engaging two.

"He's keeping them from me!" thought Tom, and his heart was heavy, for he realized that Jack might be killed. However, it was the fortune of war. As long as the Hun planes were fighting Jack they would not molest him, and he might have time to send word to the French battery that would result in the destruction of the Hun machine nest.

There came a burst of fire from the Allied lines he had left, and Tom saw a shell land to the left and far beyond the Hun battery hidden in the old ruins. He at once sent back a correcting signal.

The more a gun is elevated up to a certain point, the farther it shoots. Forty-three degrees is about the maximum elevation. Again, if a gun is elevated too high it shoots over instead of directly at the target aimed at. It is then necessary to lower the elevation. Tom has seen that the guns of the French battery, which were seeking to destroy the machine gun nest were shooting beyond the mark. Accordingly they were told to depress their muzzles.

This was done, but still the shells fell to the left, and an additional correction was necessary. It is comparatively easy to make corrections in elevation or depression that will rectify errors in shooting short of or beyond a mark. It is not so easy to make the same corrections in what, for the sake of simplicity, may be called right or left errors, that is horizontal firing. To make these corrections it becomes needful to inscribe imaginary circles about the target, in this case the machine gun nest.

These circles are named from the letters of the alphabet. For instance, a circle drawn three hundred yards around a Hun battery as a center might be designated A. The next circle, two hundred yards less in size, would be B and so on, down to perhaps five yards, and that is getting very close.

The circles are further divided, as a piece of pie is cut, into twelve sectors, and numbered from 1 to 12. The last sector is due north, while 6 would be due south, 3 east, and 9 west, with the other figures for northeast, southwest, and so on.

If a shot falls in the fifty-yard circle, indicated by the letter D, but to the southwest of the mark, it is necessary to indicate that by sending the message "D-7," which would mean that, speaking according to the points of the compass, the missile had fallen within fifty yards of the mark, but to the south-southwest of it, and correction must be made accordingly.

Tom watched the falling shells. They came nearer and nearer to the hidden battery and at last he saw one fall plump where it was needed. There was a great puff of smoke, and when it had blown away there was only a hole in the ground where the ruins had been hiding the machine guns.

Tom's work was done, and he flew off to the aid of Jack, who had overcome one Hun, sending his plane crashing to earth. But the other, an expert fighter, was pressing him hard until Ton opened up on him with his machine gun. Then the German, having no stomach for odds, turned tail and flew toward his own lines.

"Good for you, Tom!" yelled Jack, though he knew his chum could not hear him because of the noise of the motor.

Together the two lads, who had engaged in their last battle strictly with the French, made for their aerodrome, reaching it safely, though, as it was learned when Jack dismounted, he had received a slight bullet wound in one side from a missile sent by one of the attacking planes. But the hurt was only a flesh wound; though, had it gone an inch to one side, it would have ended Jack's fighting days.

Hearty and enthusiastic were the congratulations that greeted the exploit of Torn in finding the German machine gun nest that had been such a menace, nor were the thanks to Jack any less warm, for without his help Tom could never have maintained his position, and sent back corrections to the battery which brought about the desired result.

"It is a glorious end to your stay with us," said the commander, with shining eyes, as he congratulated them.

There was a little impromptu banquet in the quarters that night, and Tom and Jack were bidden God-speed to their new quarters.

"There's only one thing I want to say!" said Jack quietly, as he rose in response to a demand that he talk.

"Let us hear it, my slice of bacon!" called a jolly ace.

"It's this," went on Jack. "That I hereby resolve that if we—I mean Tom and I—can't rescue our comrade, Harry Leroy, from the Huns—provided he's alive—that we'll take a toll of five Germans for him—or as many, up to that number, as we can shoot down before they get us. Five German fliers is the price of Harry Leroy, who was worth a hundred of them!"

"Bravo! Hurrah! So he was! Death to the Huns!" were the cries.

Torn Raymond sprang to his feet

"What Jack says I say!" he cried. "But I double the toll. If Harry Leroy is dead he leaves a sister. You all saw her here! Well, I'll get five Huns for her, and that makes ten between Jack and me!"

"Success to you!" cried several.

With this resolve to spur them on, Tom and Jack bade their bravo comrades farewell and started for Paris, whence they were to journey to the headquarters of General Pershing and his men.

VI. IN PARIS

Attired in their natty uniforms of the La Fayette Escadrille, which they had not discarded, with the double wings showing that they were fully qualified pilots and aviators, Jack Parmly and Tom Raymond attracted no little attention as, several hours after leaving their places on the battle front, they arrived in Paris. They were to have a few days rest before joining the newly formed American aviation section which, as yet, was hardly ready for active work.

"Well, they're here!" suddenly cried Tom, as he and Jack made their way out of the station to seek a modest hotel where they might stay until time for them to report.

"Who? Where? I don't see 'em!" exclaimed Jack, as he crowded to the side of his chum, murmurs from a group of French persons testifying to the esteem in which the American lads were held.

"There!" went on Tom, pointing. "See some of our doughboys! And maybe the crowds aren't glad to have 'em here! It's great, I tell you, great!"

As he spoke he pointed to several khaki-clad infantrymen, some of the first of the ten thousand Americans lads that were sent over to "take the germ out of Germany." The Americans were rather at a loss, but they seemed masters of themselves, and laughed and talked with glee as they gazed on the unfamiliar scenes. They, too, were enjoying a holiday before being sent on to be billeted with the French or British troops.

"Come on, let's talk to 'em!" cried Tom, enthusiastically. "It's as good as a letter from home to see 'em!"

"I thought you meant you saw—er—Bessie and her mother," returned Jack, and there was a little disappointment in his voice.

"Oh, we'll see them soon enough, if they're still in Paris," said Tom, gazing curiously at his chum. "But they don't know we are coming here."

"Yes, they do," said Jack, quietly.

"They do? Then you must have written."

"Of course. Don't you want to see them before we get shipped off to a new sector?"

"Why, yes. Just now, though, I'm anxious to hear some good, old United States talk. Come on, let's speak to 'em. There's one bunch that seems to be in trouble."

But the trouble was only because some of Pershing's boys—as they were generally called wanted to make some purchases at a candy shop and did not know enough of the language to make their meaning clear. It was a good-natured misunderstanding, and both the French shop-keeper and his helper and the doughboys were laughing over it.

"Hello, boys! Glad to see you! Can we help you out?" asked Tom, as he and Jack joined the group.

The infantrymen whirled about.

"Well, for the love of the Mason an' Dixon line! is there somebody heah who can speak our talk?" cried one lad, his accent unmistakably marking him as Southern.

"Guess we can help you out," said Jack. "We're from God's country, too," and in an instant the were surrounded and being shaken hands with on all sides, while a perfect barrage of questions was fired at them.

Then, when the little misunderstanding at the candy shop had been straightened out, Tom and Jack told something of who they were, mentioning the fact that they were soon to fight directly under the stars and stripes, information which drew whoops of delight from the enthusiastic infantrymen.

"But say, friend," called out one of the new American soldiers, "can you sling enough of this lingo to lead us to a place where we can get ham and eggs? I mean a real eating place, not just a coffee stand. I've been opening my mouth, champing my jaws and rubbing my stomach all day, trying to tell these folks that I'm hungry and want a square meal, and half the time they think I need a doctor. Lead me to a hash foundry."

"All right, come on with us!" laughed Tom. "We're going to eat, too. I guess we can fix you up."

The two aviators had been in Paris before and they knew their way about, as well as being able to speak the language fairly well. Soon, with their new friends from overseas, they were seated in a quiet restaurant, where substantial food could be had in spite of war prices. And then it was give and take, question and answer, until a group of Parisians that had gathered about turned away shaking their heads at their inability to understand the strange talk. But they were well aware of the spirit of it all, and more than one silently blessed the Americans as among the saviors of France.

The wonderful city seemed filled with soldiers of all the Allied nations, and most conspicuous, because of recent events, were the khaki-clad boys who were soon to fight under Pershing. Having seen that the little contingent they had taken under their protection got what they wanted, Tom and Jack, bidding them farewell, but promising to see them again soon, went to their hotel.

And, their baggage arriving, Jack proceeded to get ready for a bath and a general furbishing. He seemed very particular.

"Going out?" asked Tom.

"Why—er—yes. Thought I'd go to call on Bessie Gleason. This is her night off duty—hers and her mother's."

"How do you know?"

"Well—er—she said so. Want to come?"

"Nixy. Two's company and you know what three is."

"Oh, come on! Mrs. Gleason will be glad to see you."

"Well, I suppose I might," assented Tom, who, truth to tell, did not relish spending the evening alone.

Bessie and her mother had, of late, been assigned as Red Cross workers to a hospital in the environs of Paris, and ant times they could come into the city for a rest. They maintained a modest apartment not far from the hotel where Tom and Jack had put up, and soon the two lads found themselves at the place where their friends lived.

"Oh, I'm so glad you both came!" exclaimed Bessie as she greeted them. "We have company and—"

"Company!" exclaimed Jack, drawing back.

"Yes, the dearest, most delightful girl you ever—"

"Girl!" exclaimed Tom.

"Yes. But come on in and meet her. I'm sure you'll both fall in love with her."

Jack was on the point of saying something, but thought better of it, and a moment later, to the great surprise of himself and Torn, they were facing Nellie Leroy.

VII. THE AMERICAN FRONT

Tom and Jack bowed. In fact, so great was their surprise at first that this was all they could do. Then they stared first at Bessie and then at the other girl—the sister of Harry, their chum, who was somewhere, dead or alive, behind the German lines.

"Well, aren't you glad to see her?" demanded Bessie. "I thought I'd surprise you."

"You have," said Jack. "Very much!"

"Glad to see her—why—of course. But—but—how—"

Tom found himself stuttering and stammering, so he stopped, and stared so hard at Nellie Leroy that she smiled, though rather sadly, for it was plain to be seen her grief over the possible death of her brother weighed down on her. And then she went on:

"Well, I'm real—I'm not a dream, Mr. Raymond."

"So I see—I mean I'm glad to see it—I mean—oh, I don't know what I do mean!" he finished desperately. "Did you know she was going to be here? Was that the reason you asked me to come?" he inquired of Jack.

"Hadn't the least notion in the world," answered Jack. "I'm as much surprised as you are."

"Well, we'll take pity on you and tell you all about it," said Bessie. "Mother, here are the boys," she called; and Mrs. Gleason, who had suffered so much since having been saved from the Lusitania and afterward rescued by air craft from the lonely castle, came out of her room to greet the boys.

They were as glad to see her as she was to meet them again, and for a time there was an interchange of talk. Then Mrs. Gleason withdrew to leave the young people to themselves.

"Well, go on, tell us all about it!" begged Tom, who could not take his eyes off Nellie Leroy. "How did she get here?" and he indicated Harry's sister.

"He talks of me as though I were some specimen!" laughed the girl. "But go on—tell him, Bessie."

"Well, it isn't much of a story," said Bessie Gleason. "Nellie started to do Red Cross work, as mother and I are doing, and she was assigned to the hospital where we were."

"This was after I heard the terrible news about poor Harry at your escadrille," Nellie broke in, to say to Tom and Jack. "I—I suppose you haven't had any—word?" she faltered.

"Not yet," Jack answered. "But we may get it any day now—or they may, back there," and he nodded to indicate the air headquarters he and Tom had left. "You know we're going to be under Pershing soon," he added.

"So you wrote me," said Bessie. "I'm glad, though it's all in the same good cause. Well, as I was saying, Nellie came to our hospital-I call it ours though I have such a small part in it," she interjected. "She was introduced to us as an American, and of course we made friends at once."

"No one could help making friends with Bessie and her mother!" exclaimed Nellie.

"Don't flatter us too much," warned Bessie. "Now please don't interrupt any more. As I say, Nellie came to us to do her share in helping care for the wounded, and, as mother and I found she had settled on no regular place in Paris, we asked her to share our rooms. Then we got to talking, and of course I found she had met you two boys in her search for her brother. After that we were better friends than ever."

"Glad to know it," said Tom. "There's nothing like having friends. I hadn't any notion that I'd meet any when I started out with him tonight," and he motioned to Jack.

"Well, I like that!" cried Bessie in feigned indignation. "I like to know how you class my mother and me?" and she looked at Tom.

"Oh,—er—well, of course—you and your mother, and Jack. But he and you—"

"Better swim out before you get into deep water," advised Jack quickly, and he nudged Tom with his foot.

Then the boys had to tell about their final experiences before leaving the Lafayette Escadrille with which many trying, as well as many happy, hours were associated, and the girls told of their adventures, which were not altogether tame.

Since Mrs. Gleason had been freed from the plotting of the spy, Potzfeldt, she had lived a happy life—that is as happy as one could amid the scenes of war and its attendant horrors. She and Bessie were throwing themselves heart and soul into the immortal work of the Red Cross, and now Nellie bad joined them.

"It's the only way I can stop thinking about poor Harry," she said with a sigh. "Oh, if I could only hear some good news about him, that I might send it to the folks at home. Do you think it will ever come—the good news, I mean?" she asked wistfully of Tom.

"All we can do is to hope," he said. He knew better than to buoy up false hopes, for he had seen too much of the terrible side of war. In his heart he knew that there was but little chance for Harry Leroy, after the latter's aeroplane had been shot down behind the German lines. Yet there was that one, slender hope to which all of us cling when it seems that everything else is lost.

"He may be a prisoner, and, in that case, there is a chance," said Tom, while Jack and Bessie were conversing on the other side of the room.

"You mean a chance to escape?"

"Hardly that, though it has been done. A few aviators have got away from German prison camps. But it's only one chance in many thousand. No, what I meant was that—well, it's too small and slim a chance to talk about, I'm afraid."

"Oh, no!" she hastened to assure him. "Do tell me! No chance is too small. What do you mean?"

"Well, sometimes rescues have been made," went on Tom. "They are even more rare than escapes, but they have been done. I was thinking that perhaps after Jack and I get in with Pershing's boys we might be in some big raid on the Hun lines, and then, if we could get any information as to your brother's whereabouts, we might plan to rescue him."

"Oh, do you think you could?"

"I certainly can and will try!" exclaimed Tom, earnestly.

"Oh, will you? Oh, I can't thank you enough!" and she clasped his hand in both hers and Tom blushed deeply.

"Please don't count too much on it," Tom warned Nellie. "It's a desperate chance at best, but it's the only one I can see that we can take. First of all, though, we've got to get some word as to where Harry is."

"How can you do that?"

"Some of the Hun airmen are almost human, that is compared to the other Boche fighters. They may drop a cap of Harry's or a glove, or something," and Tom told of the practice in such cases.

"Oh, if they only will!" sighed Nellie. "But it is almost too much to hope."

And so they talked until late in the evening, when the time came for Nellie, Bessie and her mother to report back for their Red Cross work. The boys returned to their hotel, promising to write often and to see their friends at the next opportunity.

"I won't forget!" said Tom, on parting from Nellie.

"Forget what?" asked Jack, as they were going down the street together.

"I'm going to do my best to rescue her brother," said Tom, in a low voice.

"Good! I'm with you!" declared Jack.

The stay of the two boys in Paris was all too short, but they were anxious to get back to their work. They wanted to be fighting under their own flag. Not that they had not been doing all they could for liberty, but it was different, being with their own countrymen. And so, when their leaves of absence were up, they took the train that was to drop them at the place assigned, where the newly arrived Americans were beginning their training.

"The American front!" cried Tom, as he and Jack reached the headquarters of General Pershing and his associate officers. "The American front at last!"

"And it's the happiest day of my life that I can fight on it!" cried Jack.

VIII. A BATTLE IN THE AIR

Strictly speaking there was at that time no American front. That did not come until later, for the American soldiers, as was proper, were brigaded with the French and British, to enable our troops, who were unused to European war conditions, to become acquainted with the needful measures to meet and overcome the brutality of the Huns.

But even with this brigading of the United States' troops with the seasoned veterans, which, in plain language, meant a mingling of the two forces, there was much that was strictly American among the new arrivals.

Not only were the khaki-clad soldiers real Americans to the backbone, but their equipment and the supplies that had come over with them in the transports were such as might be seen at any army camp in this country, as distinguished from a French or a British camp.

"Well, the boys are here all right," remarked Jack, as he and Tom made their way toward the headquarters at which they were to report.

"Yes, and it makes me feel good to see them!" said Tom. "This is the beginning of the end of Kaiserism, if I'm any judge."

"Oh, it isn't going to be so easy as all that," returned Jack. "We'll see some hard fighting. Germany isn't licked yet by any means; but those, are the boys that can bring the thing to a finish," and he pointed to a company of the lean, stem, brown figures that were swinging along with characteristic stride.

The place at which Tom and Jack had been ordered to report was an interior city of France, not far from the port at which the first transport from America had arrived. A first glance at the scenes on every hand would have given a person not familiar with war a belief that hopeless confusion existed. Wagons, carts, mule teams and motor trucks-"lorries," the English call them—were dashing to and fro. Men were marching, countermarching, unloading some vehicles, loading others. Soldiers were being marched into the interior to be billeted, others were being directed to their respective French or English units. Officers were shouting commands, and privates were carrying them out to the best of their ability.

But though it all seemed chaos, out of it order was coming. There was a system, though a civilian would not have understood it.

"Well, let's find out where we're at," suggested Torn, to his chum.

"Right 0, my pickled grapefruit!" agreed Jack with a laugh. "Let's get into the game."

They were about to ask their direction from a non-commissioned officer who was directing a squad of men in the unloading of a truck which seemed filled with canned goods, when some one said:

"There goes Black Jack now!"

The two air service boys looked, and saw, passing along not far away, a tall man, faultlessly attired, who looked "every inch a soldier," and whose square jaw was indicative of his fighting qualities, if the rest of his face had not been.

"Is that General Pershing?" asked Tom, in a low voice of the non-commissioned officer.

"That's who he is, buddy," was the smiling answer. "The best man in the world for the job, too. Come on there now, you with the red hair. This isn't a croquet game. Lay into those cases, and get 'em off some time before New Year's. We want to have our Christmas dinner in Berlin, remember!"

"So that's Pershing," commented Jack, as he looked at the American commander, who, with his staff officers, was on a trip of inspection. "Well, he suits me all right!"

"The next thing for us to do is to find out if we suit him," remarked Tom. "Wonder if he knows we're here?"

"I don't even believe he knows we're alive!" exclaimed Jack, for the moment taking Tom's joke quite seriously.

As General Pershing passed on, receiving and returning many salutes, Tom and Jack made their inquiries, learned where they were to report, and went on their way, longing for the time when they could get into action with the American troops.

"Oh, so you're the two aviators from the Lafayette Escadrille," commented the commanding officer, or the C. 0., of the newly formed American squadron, as Tom and Jack, drawing themselves up as straight as they could, saluted when he looked over their papers and their log books. These last are the personal records of aviators in which they note the details of each flight made. They are official documents, but when a birdman is honorably discharged he may take his log book with him.

"We were told to report to you, sir," said Tom.

"Yes. And I'm glad to see you. We're going to establish a purely American air force, but as yet it is in its infancy. I need some experienced fliers, and I'm glad you're going to be with us. Of course I have a number who have made good records over there," and he nodded to indicate the United States, "But they haven't been under fire yet, and I understand you have."

"Some," admitted Jack, modestly enough.

"Good! Well, I'm to have some more of our own boys, who are to be transferred from the French forces, and some from the Royal Flying Corps, so with that as a start I guess we can build up an air service that will make Fritz step lively. But we've got to go slow. One thing I'm sorry for is that we haven't, as yet, any American planes. We'll have to depend on the French and English for them, as we have to, at first, for our artillery and shells."

"We can fly French or British planes," remarked Tom.

And, as my old readers know, the air service boys had had experience with a number of different models.

"We can fly a Gotha if we have to," said Jack. "One came down back of our lines last month, and we patched it up and flew it for practice."

"I hope you can get some more of that practice," said the commanding officer with a smile.

"But, now that you're here, I'll swear you in and see what the orders are regarding you. I'm afraid there won't be much fighting for you at first—that is strictly as Americans. I understand our air front, if I may use that term, will have to grow out of a nucleus of French and English fighters."

"That's all right, as long as we get the right start," commented Tom.

It was necessary to swear the boys into the service of the United States, even though they were natives of it; since, on entering the Lafayette Escadrille, they had been obliged to swear allegiance to France. But this was a matter of routine where the Allies were concerned, and soon Tom and Jack were back again where they longed to be—enrolled among the distinctive fighters of their own country.

They were assigned to barracks, and found themselves among some other airmen, many of whom were student fliers from the various aviation camps of the United States. Few of these youths had had much practice, though some had been to the Canadian schools. And none of them had, as yet, fought an enemy in the air.

To aid and instruct them, however, were such fighters as Tom and Jack, and some even more experienced from the French, Italian and British camps, who had been detailed to help out the United States in the emergency.

The next few weeks was an instruction and reconstruction period, with Tom and Jack often filling the roles of teachers. They found their pupils apt, eager and willing, however, and among them they discovered some excellent material. As the commanding officer of the new American air forces had said, the planes used were all of English or French make. It was too early in the war for America to have sent any over equipped with the Liberty motor, though production was under way.

After this period had passed, Tom and Jack, with a squadron of other birdmen were sent to a certain section of the front held largely by American troops, supported by veteran French and British regiments.

It was the first wholly American aircraft camp established since the beginning of the World War, and it was not even yet as wholly American as it was destined to be later, for the aviators were, as regards veterans, largely French and English. Torn and Jack were, in point of service, the ranking American fliers for a time.

There had been several sharp engagements across No Man's Land between the mingled French, British and French forces and the Huns, and honors were on the side of the former. There had been one or two combats in the air, in which Tom and Jack had taken part, when one day word came from an observation balloon on the American side that a flock of German aircraft was on the way from a camp located a few miles within the Boche lines.

There was a harried consultation of the officers, and then orders were given for a half score of the Allied machines to get ready. Two veteran French aces were to be in command, with Tom and Jack as helpers, and some of the American aviators were to go into the battle of the air for the first time.

"The Huns are evidently going to try to bomb some of our ammunition dumps behind our lines,"' said one officer, speaking to Tom. "It's up to you boys to drive 'em back."

"We'll try, sir," was the answer. "We owe the Huns something we haven't been able to pay off as yet."

Tom referred to the loss of Harry Leroy. So far no word had been received from him, either directly or through the German aviators, as to whether he was dead or a prisoner. Letters had passed between Bessie and Nellie and Jack and Tom, and the sister of the missing youth begged for news.

But there was none to give her.

"Unless we get some to-day," observed Tom as he and his chum hurried toward the hangars where their machines were being made ready for them.

"Get news to-day? What makes you think we shall?" asked Jack.

"Well, we might bring down a Fritzie or two who'd know something about poor Harry," was the answer. "You never can tell."

"No, that's so," agreed Jack. "Well, here's hoping we'll have luck."

By this time there was great excitement in the American aviation headquarters. Word of the oncoming Hun planes had spread, and not a flier of Pershing's forces but was eager to get into his plane and go aloft to give battle. But only the best were selected, and if there were heart-burnings of disappointment it could not be helped.

Two classes of planes were to be used, the single seaters for the aces, who fought alone, and the double craft, each one of which carried a pilot and an observer. In the latter cases the observers were the new men, who had yet to receive their baptism of fire above the clouds.

Tom and Jack were each detailed to take up one of the new men, and the air service boys were glad to find that, assigned to each of them, was the very man he would have picked had he had his choice. They were eager, intrepid lads, anxious to do their share in the great adventure.

Quickly the machines were made ready, and quickly the fighters climbed into them. The roar of the motors was heard all over the aerodrome, and soon the machines began to mount. Up and up they climbed, and none too soon, for on reaching elevations averaging ten thousand feet, there was seen, over the German lines, a flock of the Hun planes led by two or three machines painted a bright red. These were some of the machines that had belonged to the celebrated "flying circus," organized by a daring Hun aviator and ace who was killed after he had inflicted great damage and loss on the Allied service. He and his men had their machines painted red, perhaps on the theory that they would thus inspire terror. These were some of the former members of the circus," it was evident.

"It's going to be a real fight!" cried Tom, as he headed his machine toward one of the red craft. Whether the green man Tom was taking up relished this or not, knowing, as he must, the reputation of these red aviators, Tom did not stop to consider.

Then, as the two hostile air fleets approached, there began a battle of the clouds—a conflict destined to end fatally for more than one aviator.

IX. THE FALLING GLOVE

Numerically the Hun planes, were superior to the American fleet of airships that quickly rose to oppose them. That probably accounted for fact that the Germans did not turn tail and scurry back beyond the protection of their own anti-aircraft guns and batteries. For it was seldom, if ever, they went into a fight when the odds were against them.

On came the Fokkers and Gothas, the black iron crosses painted on the wings of the machines standing out in bold relief in the clear air. The sun glinted on the red craft which were in the lead, and besides Tom, who headed for one of these, a French ace darted down from a height to engage the red planes.

"See if you can plug him when I put you near enough!" cried Tom to his observer, who had the reputation of being a good shot with the Lewis gun. Practice with the machine weapons in aeroplanes had been going on, for some time among the new American aviators. "Let him have a good dose!" cried Tom. "If you miss him, then I'll try!"

Of course Tom had to shut off the engine when he said this, as no voice could have been heard above the roaring of the powerful motor. But when he had given his companion these instructions and had ascertained, by a glance over his shoulder, that the lad understood for he nodded his head, Tom again turned on the gasoline, and the propeller, that had been revolving by momentum and because of the pressure of air against it, took up its speed again.

Straight for the red machine rushed Tom, and a quick glance told him that his companion was ready with the gun. The weapon to be worked by the latter was mounted so that it could be aimed independently of the aeroplane. Tom also had a gun in front of him, but it was fixed and could be aimed only by pointing the whole craft. Once this was done Tom could operate the weapon with one hand, steering with the other, and, at times, with his feet and knees.

There came several sharp pops near Tom's head, and he knew these were machine bullets from the Hun aviator's gun, breaking through the tightly stretched linen fabric of the wings of his own plane.

"Let him have it before he plugs us!" cried Tom to his companion, though of course the latter could not hear a word. An instant later Tom heard the Lewis gun behind him firing, and he saw several tracer bullets strike the Hun machine. But they were not near the aviator himself, and did no material damage.

"Guess he's too nervous to shoot straight," reasoned Tom. "I'll have to try my own gun," he decided.

Tom noticed that the Hun was climbing up, trying to get into a position above the American plane, which is always an advantage. And the air service boy knew he must not let this happen. Quickly he shifted the rudder and began to climb himself. But he was at a disadvantage as his machine carried double, while the red plane had only one man in it, an ace beyond a doubt.

"I've got to get him now or never!" thought Tom. Once more he shifted his direction, and then, as he had his gun aimed just where he wanted it, he pressed the lever and a burst of bullets shot out and fairly riddled the red plane. It seemed to stop for an instant in the air, and then, quivering, turned and went down in a nose dive, spinning around.

"No fake about that!" mused Tom, as he leaned over and looked down from the height. "He's done for I"

And so, the Hun was, for he crashed to the ground behind the American lines. The incident did not affect Tom Raymond greatly. It was not his first killing. But when he, glanced back toward his companion, he saw that the other was shrinking back as if in horror.

"He'll get over that soon enough. All he has to do is to think of what the Huns have done—crucifying men and babies—to make his heart hard," thought Tom.

Whether his companion did this or not, did not disclose itself, but the fact remains that when Tom flew off to engage another Hun machine the lad back of him rose to the occasion and shot so well that Fritz veered off and flew back over his own lines, wounded and with his craft barely able to fly.

Not all the American machines fared as well as this, however. Jack was in poor luck. The first burst of bullets from the German he engaged punctured his gasoline tank, and he was obliged to coast back to his own aerodrome to get another machine, if possible. He was also hit once in the leg, the wound being painful though not dangerous. He received first aid treatment and wanted to get back into the fight, but this was not allowed, and he had to watch the battle from the ground.

The fight was fast and stubborn, and in the end the American forces won, for at a signal from the remaining red plane, which seemed to bear a charmed existence, as it did not appear to be hit, the others remaining of the Hun forces, turned tail and scooted back to safety.

But they had left a toll of five machines sent crashing to earth, four of them each containing two men. The leading French ace was killed, a severe loss to the Allied forces, and three of the American machines were damaged and their operators severely wounded, though with a chance of recovery. By American machines is meant those assigned for use to Pershing's forces, though the craft used up to that time were of French or English make. The real American machines came into use a little later.

"Well, I think we can call it one to our credit," said Tom, as he rejoined Jack after the battle.

"Yes. But you had all the luck!" complained his chum. "It went against me, and the lad I took up. It—"

"Never mind; it'll be your turn next," replied Tom, consolingly.

And so the new American aviators received their baptism of fire, and, to their credit, longed for more.

More credit was really due the American forces than would be indicated by the mere citation of the losses inflicted on the German side in this first air battle. For many of the American fighters were "green," while not one of the Huns, as was learned later, but what had several Allied machines to his score. And so there was rejoicing in General Pershing's camp, even though it was mingled with sorrow at the losses inflicted.

Busy days followed, Tom and Jack were in the air much of the time. And when they were not flying they were delivering talks to new students, who were constantly arriving. They found time once to run into Paris on their day of leave, to see Bessie and Nellie, and they went on a little picnic together, which was as jolly as such an affair could be in the midst of the terrible war. Nellie had received no word of her missing brother, and Jack and Tom had no encouragement for her.

Then came more hard work at camp, and another battle of the air in which the American forces more than equaled matters, for they fairly demolished a German plane squadron, sending ten of the machines crashing to earth and the others back over the Hun lines, more or less damaged. That was a great day. And, as a sort of reward for their work, Tom and Jack were given three days' leave. At first they thought to spend them in Paris, but, learning that neither Bessie nor her mother nor Nellie could leave their Red Cross work to join them, the two lads made other arrangements.

"Let's go back and see the fellows in the Lafayette Escadrille," suggested Tom.

"All right," agreed Jack.

And thither they went.

That they were welcomed need not be said. It was comparatively quiet on this sector just then, though there had, a few days before, been a great battle with victory perching on the Allied banners. The air conflicts, too, had been desperate, and many a brave man of the French, English or American fliers had met his death. But toll had been taken of the Boches—ample toll, too.

The first inquiry Tom and Jack had made on their arrival at their former aerodrome had been for news of Harry Leroy, but none had been received.

It was when Tom and Jack were about to conclude their visit to their former comrades of the air that an incident occurred which made a great change in their lives. One sunny afternoon there suddenly appeared, a mere speck in the blue, a single aeroplane.

"Some one of your men must have gone a long way over Heinie's lines," remarked Jack to one of the French officers.

"He is not one of our men. Either they were all back long ago or they will not come back until after the war—if ever. That is a Hun machine."

"What is he doing—challenging to single combat?" asked Tom, as the lone plane came on steadily.

"No," answered the officer, after a look through his glasses. "I think he brings some messages. We sent some to the Germans yesterday, and I think this is a return courtesy. We will wait and see."

Nearer and nearer came the German plane. Soon it was circling around the French camp. Hundreds came out to watch, for now the object of the lone aviator was apparent. He contemplated no raid. It was to drop news of captured, or dead, Allied airmen.

Then, as Tom, and the others watched, a little package was seen to fall from the hovering aeroplane. It landed on the roof of one of the hangars, bounced off and was picked up by an orderly, who presented it to the commanding officer.

Quickly and eagerly it was opened. It contained some personal belongings of Allied airmen who had been missing for the past week. Some of them, the message from the German lines said, had been killed by their falls after being shot down, and it was stated that they had been decently buried. Others were wounded and in hospitals.

"No word from Harry," said Tom, sadly, as the last of the relics from the dead and the living were gone over.

"Well, I guess we may as well give him up," added Jack. "But we can avenge him. That's all we have left, now."

"Yes," agreed Tom. "If we only—?"

A cry from some of those watching the German plane interrupted him. The two air service boys looked up. Another small object was falling. It landed with a thud, almost at the feet of Tom and Jack, and the latter picked it up.

It was an aviator's glove; and as Jack held it up a note dropped out. Quickly it was read, and the import of it was given to all in a simultaneous shout of joy from Tom and Jack.

"It's word from Harry Leroy! Word from Harry at last!"

X. STUNTS

Truly enough, word had come from the missing aviator, or, if not directly from him, at least from his captors. The German airmen, falling in with the chivalry which had been initiated by the French and English, and later followed by the Americans, had seen fit to inform the comrades of the captured man of his whereabouts.

"Where is he? What happened to him?" asked several, as all crowded around Tom and Jack to hear the news.

Jack, reading the note, told them. The missive was written in very good English, though in a German hand. It stated that Harry Leroy had been shot down in his plane while over the German lines, and had fallen in a lonely spot, wounded.

The wound was not serious, it was stated, and the prisoner was doing as well as could be expected, but he would remain in the hands of his captors until the end of the war. The reason his whereabouts was not mentioned before was that the Germans did not know they had one of the Allied aviators in their midst.

Leroy had not only fallen in a lonely spot, but he was made unconscious by his fall and injuries, and when he recovered he was lying near his almost demolished plane.

He managed to get out his log book and other confidential papers, and set fire to them and the plane with the gasoline that still remained in the tank. He destroyed them so they might not fall into the hands of the Germans, a fate he knew would be his own shortly.

But Harry Leroy was not doomed to instant capture. The blaze caused by his burning aeroplane attracted the attention of a peasant, who had not been deported when the enemy overran his country, for the young aviator had fallen in a spot well back of the front lines. This French peasant took Harry to his little farm and hid him in the barn. There the man, his wife, and his granddaughters, looked after the injured aviator, feeding him and binding up his hurts. It was a great risk they took, and Harry Leroy knew it as well as they. But for nearly two weeks he remained hidden, and this probably saved his life, for he got better treatment at the farmhouse than he would, as an enemy, have received in a German hospital.

But such good luck could not last. Suspicion that Americans were hidden in the Frenchman's barn began to spread through the country, and rather than bring discovery on his friends, Leroy left the barn one night.

He had a desperate hope that he might reach his own lines, as he was now pretty well recovered from his 'Injuries, but it was not to be. He was captured by a German patrol. But by his quick action Harry Leroy had removed suspicion from the farmer, which was exactly what he wished to do.

The Germans, rejoicing over their capture, took the young aviator to the nearest prison camp, and there he was put in custody, together with some unfortunate French and English. The tide of war had turned against Harry Leroy.

So it came about that, some time after he had been posted as missing and when it was surely thought that he was dead, Harry Leroy was found to be among the living, though a prisoner.

"This will be great news for his sister!" exclaimed Jack, as the note dropped by the German airman was read over and over again.

"Yes, she'll be delighted," agreed Tom. "We must hurry back and tell her."

"And that isn't all," went on Jack. "We must try to figure out a way to rescue Harry."

"You can't do that," declared a French ace, one with whom the air service boys had often flown.

"Why not?" asked Tom.

"It's out of the question," was the answer. "There has never been a rescue yet from behind the German lines. Or, if there has been, it's like a blue moon."

"Well, we can try," declared Jack, and Tom nodded his head in agreement.

"Don't count too much on it," added another of their friends. "Harry may not even be where this note says he is."

"Do you mean that the Germans would say what isn't so?" asked Tom.

"Of course! Naturally!" was the answer. "But even if they did not in this case, even if they have truly said where Leroy is, he may be moved at any time—sent to some other prison, or made to work in the mines or at perhaps something far worse."

Tom and Jack realized that this might be so, and they felt that there was no easy task ahead of them in trying to rescue their chum from the hands of the Germans. But they were not youths who gave up easily.

"May we keep this note?" asked Tom, as he and Jack got ready to depart. Having fallen on the camp of the escadrille with which they were formerly quartered, it was, strictly speaking, the property of the airmen there. But having been told how much the sister of the prisoner would appreciate it, the commanding officer gave permission for Tom and Jack to take the glove and note with them.

"Let us know if you rescue him, Comrades!" called the Frenchmen to the two lads, as they started back for their own camp.

"We will," was the answer.

Nellie Leroy's joy in the news that her brother was alive was tempered by the fact that he was a German prisoner.

"But we're going to get him!" declared Tom even though he realized, as he said it, that it with almost a forlorn hope.

"You are so good," murmured the girl.

Jack and Tom spent a few happy hours in Paris, with Nellie and Bessie—the last of their leave—and then, bidding the girls and Mrs. Gleason farewell, they reported back to the American aerodrome, where the young airmen were cordially welcomed.

There they found much to do, and events followed one another so rapidly at this stage of the World War that Tom and Jack, after their return, had little time for anything but flying and teaching others what they knew of air work. They had no opportunity to do anything toward the rescue of Harry Leroy; and, indeed, they were at a loss how to proceed. They were just hoping that something would transpire to give them a starting point.

"We'll have to leave it to luck for a while," said Torn.

"Or fate," added Jack.

"Well, fate plays no small part in an airman's life," returned Tom. "While we are no more superstitions than any other soldiers, yet there are few airmen who do not carry some sort of mascot or good-luck piece. You know that, Jack."

And even the casual reader of the exploits of the aviators must have been impressed with the fact that often the merest incident—or accident is responsible for life or death.

Death often passes within hair's breadth of the intrepid fliers, and some of them do not know it until after they have made a landing and have seen the bullet holes in their machine—holes that indicate how close the missiles have passed to them.

So, in a way, both Tom and Jack believed in luck, and they both believed that this same luck might point out to them a way of rescuing Harry Leroy.

Meanwhile they were kept busy. After the big battle in the air matters were quiet for a time on their sector of the front. The arrival of new fliers from America made it necessary to instruct them, and to this Tom, Jack and other veterans were detailed.

Then began a series of what Jack called "stunts." In order to inspire the new pupils with confidence, the older flying men—not always older in years—would go aloft in their single planes and do all sorts of trick flying. Some of the pupils—the more daring, of course—wished to imitate these, but of course they were not allowed.

The pupils were first allowed merely to go with an experienced man. This, of course, they had done at the flying schools in the United States, and had flown alone. But they had to start all over again when on French soil, for here they were exposed, any time, to an attack from a Hun plane.

After they had, it was thought, got sufficient experience to undertake these trick features by themselves, they were allowed to make trial flights, but not over the enemy lines.

Tom and Jack gave the best that was in them to these enthusiastic pupils, and there was much good material.

"What are you going to do to-day, Jack?" asked Tom one morning, as they went out after breakfast to get into their "busses," as they dubbed their machines.

"Oh, got orders to do some spiral and somersault stunts for the benefit of some huns." ("Hun," used in this connection, not referring to the Germans. "Hun" is the slang term for student aviators, tacked on them by more experienced fliers.)

"Same here. Good little bunch of huns in camp now."

Tom nodded in agreement, and the two were soon preparing to climb aloft.

With a watching group of eager young men on the ground below, in company with an instructor who would point out the way certain feats were done, Torn and Jack began climbing. Presently they were fairly tumbling about like pigeons, seeming to fall, but quickly straightening out on a level keel and coming to the ground almost as lightly as feathers.

"A good landing is essential if one would become a good airman," stated the instructor. "In fact I may say it is the hardest half of the game. For it is comparatively easy to leave the earth. It is the coining back that is difficult, like the Irishman who said it wasn't the fall that hurts, it was the stopping."

"Give 'em a bit of zooming now," the instructor said to Tom and Jack. "The boys may have to use that any time they're up and a Boche comes at them."

"Zooming," he went on to the pupils, "is rising and falling in a series of abrupt curves like those in a roller-coaster railway. It is a very useful stunt to be master of, for it enables one to rise quickly when confronting a field barrier, or to get out of range of a Hun machine gun."

Tom undertook this feature of the instruction, as Jack signaled that his aeroplane was out of gasoline, and soon the former was rolling across the aviation field, seemingly straight toward a row of tall trees.

"He'll hit 'em sure!" cried one student.

"Watch him," ordered the instructor.

With a quick pull on the lever that controlled the rudder, Tom sent himself aloft, but not before a curious thing happened.

On the ground where it had been dropped was a tunic, or airman's fur-lined jacket. As Tom's machine "zoomed," the tail skid caught this jacket and took it aloft.

Tom did not seem to be aware of this, though he must have felt that his machine was a bit sluggish in the climbs. However, he went through with his performance, doing some beautiful "zooming," and then, as he was flying high and getting ready to do a spiral nose dive, the tunic detached itself from his skid and fell.

Just at this moment Jack came out from the hangar and, looking aloft and noting Tom's machine, saw the falling jacket. His heart turned sick and faint, for, unaware of what had happened, he thought his chum had tumbled out while at a great height. For the tunic, turning over and over as it sailed earthward, did resemble a falling body.

"Oh, Tom! Tom! How did it happen?" murmured Jack.

The others, laughing, told him that it was nothing serious, but Jack looked a bit worried until the empty jacket fell on the grass and, a little later, Tom himself came down smiling from aloft, all unaware of the excitement he had caused.

XI. OVER THE LINES

"Well, I guess we stay downstairs, to-day," remarked Tom to Jack, the day following their exhibition flights for the benefit of the air students.

"Yes, it doesn't look very promising," returned his chum.

Jack looked aloft where the sky—or what took its place—was represented by a gray mist that seemed ready to drip water at any moment. It was a day of "low visibility," and one when air work was almost totally suspended. This applied to the enemy as well as to the Yankees. For even though it is feasible to go up in an aeroplane in fog, or even rain or snow, it is not always safe to come down again in like conditions.

There is nothing worse than rain, snow or fog for clouding an aviator's goggles, making it impossible for him to see more than a plane's length ahead, if, indeed, he can see that far. Then, too, little, if anything, can be accomplished by going aloft in a storm or fog. No observations of any account can be made, and the aviator, once he gets aloft, is as likely to come down behind the German lines as he is to descend safely within his own.

That being the case, Tom and Jack, in common with their comrades of the air, had a vacation period. Some of them obtained leave and went to the nearest town, while some put in their time going over their guns and glasses and equipment and machines.

Jack and Tom elected to do the latter. There was one very fast and powerful Spad which they often used together, taking turns at piloting it and acting as observer. They thought they might have a chance soon to go over the German lines in this, their favorite craft, so they decided to put in their spare time seeing that it was in perfect shape, and that the two machine guns were ready for action when needed.

"'Would you rather do this than fly, Jack?" asked Tom, as they went over, in detail, each part of the powerful Spad.

"I should say not! But, after all, one is just as important as the other. I hope we get a good day to-morrow. I'd like to do something toward seeing if we can't get Harry out of the Boche's clutches," and he nodded in the direction of the German lines.

"'Tisn't going to be easy doing that," remarked Tom. "I'd ask nothing better than to have a hand in getting him away, but I haven't yet been able to figure out a shadow of a plan. Have you?"

"The only thing, I can think of is to organize a big raid on the section where he's held—I mean somewhere near the German prison—and if we bombed the place enough, and created enough excitement, some of us might land and get Harry and any others that might be with him."

Tom shook his head.

"That'd be a pretty risky way of doing it," he said.

"Can you think of a better?" Jack demanded quickly.

"Not off hand," came the reply. "We've got to stew over it a bit. One thing's sure—we've got to get Harry out, or his sister never will feel like going back home and facing the folks."

"That's right!" agreed Jack. "We've got a double motive for this. But I'm afraid it's going to be too hard."

"That's what we thought when we rescued Mrs. Gleason from the old castle where Potzfeldt had her caged," retorted Tom. "But you made out all right."

"Yes; thanks to your help."

"Well, we'll both work together again," declared Tom. "And now let's try this Lewis gun. The last time we were up it jammed on me, and yet it worked all right on the ground." So they tested the guns, looked to the motor, and in general made ready for a flight when the weather should clear.

This happened two days later, when the fog and mist were blown away and the blue sky could be seen. In the interim the artillery and infantry on both sides had not been idle, and there had been some desperate engagements, with the brigaded American troops making a new name for themselves.

"I guess there'll be something doing to-day," remarked Tom, as he and Jack tumbled out of bed at the usual early hour. "Clear as a bell," he announced, after a glance from the window. "Shouldn't wonder but what we went over their lines to-day."

"And I suppose, by the same token, they'll be coining over ours," and Jack nodded to indicate the Germans.

"Let 'em come!" exclaimed Tom. "It takes two sides to make a fight, and that's what we're here for."

Hardly had the two air service boys finished their breakfast, than an orderly came to tell them the commanding officer wanted them to report to him. They hurried across the aviation ground, toward the headquarters building, noting on the way that there were signs of unusual activity among the newer members of the American air forces, as well as among the French and British veterans.

"Must be going to make a raid," observed Jack.

"Something like that—yes," assented Tom.

"Hope we're in on it, and the commanding officer doesn't have us take some huns up to show 'em what makes the wheels go around," went on Jack. "Of course that's part of the game, but we've done our share."

However, they need have felt no fear, for when they stood before the commanding officer, saluting, they quickly learned that they were to go on a special mission that day—in fact as soon as they could get ready.

"I want you two to see if you can discover a battery of small guns that have been playing havoc with our men," he said, as he looked up from a table covered with maps. "They're located somewhere along this front, but they're so well camouflaged that no one has yet been able to discover them.

"I want you boys to see if you can turn the trick. The guns have killed a lot of our men, as well as the French and English. We've tried to rush the emplacement, but we can't get a line on where it is for it's well hidden. I asked permission of the British commanding general to send up two American scouts, and he mentioned you boys. Get your orders from the major, and good luck to you."

"Do you want us to go together or separately?" asked Tom.

"Together—in a double plane. I might say that we are going to try a raid on a big scale over the enemy's lines, and you two will thus have a better chance to carry out your observations unmolested. The Hun planes will have their hands full attending to our fighters, and they may not attack a single plane off by itself. We'll try to draw them away from you.

"At the same time I might point out that there is nothing sure in this, and that you may have to fight also," concluded the commanding officer, as he waved a dismissal.

"Oh, were ready for anything," announced Tom. And as he and Jack got outside he clapped his chum on the back, crying: "That's the stuff! Good old C.O. to send us! That's what we've been looking for! Maybe we'll have time to drop down and shoot some of the Huns that are guarding Harry."

"No chance of that—forget it now," urged Jack. "We'll clean up this location trick first, and then think of a plan to get Harry away. It sounds hard to say it, but it's all we can do. Orders are orders."

They were glad they had made ready the speedy Spad plane, for it was in this that they would try to locate the hidden battery, and, having received detailed instructions from the major in command, the two lads climbed into their air plane and started off.

The day was clear and bright, just the sort for aeroplane activity; and it was evident there would be plenty of it, since, even as they began climbing, Tom and Jack saw planes from their own aerodrome skirting ahead of and behind them, while, in the distance and over German-held territory, were Fokkers and Gothas with the iron cross conspicuously painted on each.

Tom and Jack had been given a map of the front, their own and the German lines being shown, and the probable location of the hidden Hun battery marked. This they now studied as they started over the front, Jack being in front, while Tom sat behind him, to work the swivel Lewis gun.

Their Spad machine was one that could be controlled from either seat, so that if one rider was disabled the other could take charge. There were two guns, one fixed and the other movable, and a good supply of ammunition.

"Well, I guess there'll be some fighting to-day," observed Tom, as Jack shut off the motor for a moment, to see if it would respond readily when the throttle was opened again. "They're closing in from both sides."

And indeed the Allied planes were sailing forth to meet a squadron of the enemy. But none of the Hun craft seemed to pay any attention to Tom and Jack. Steadily they flew on until an exclamation from Jack caused Tom to look down. He noted that they were over the German lines, and headed for the probable location of the battery that had been such a thorn in the side of the Allies.

XII. A PERFECT SHOT

The plane in which Tom and Jack had gone aloft to make observations which, it was hoped, would result in the discovery of the hidden battery, was a special machine. While very powerful and swift and equipped for air-fighting, it was also one that had been used by one of the French photographers and his pilot. The photographer, was a daring man, and had, not long before, gone to his death in fighting three Hun planes. But he had peculiar ideas regarding his car, and under his orders it had been fitted with a glass floor in the two cockpits, or what corresponded to them.

Thus he and his pilot could look down and observe the nature of the enemy country over which they were traveling without having to lean over, not always a safe act where anti-aircraft guns below are shooting up shrapnel.

So as Torn and Jack flew on and on, over the enemy's first and succeeding line trenches, they looked down through the glass windows in the plane to make their observations. There was a camera attached to the plane, and though they could each make use of it, but they were not skilled in this work.

It was impossible for them to talk to one another now, as Jack had the motor going almost full speed, and the noise it made was deafening, or it would have been except for the warm, fur hoods that covered the ears of the fliers. They were warmly dressed for they did not know how high they might ascend, and it is always cold up above, no matter how hot it is on the earth.

Up and up they climbed, and then they flew on and over the enemy lines, keeping close lookout for anything unusual below that would indicate the presence of the battery. Behind them, and off to one side, a fierce aerial battle was going on.

Tom and Jack were eager to get into this and do their share. But they had orders to make their observations, and they dared not 'refuse. They could tell by looking back every now and then that the affair was going well for the Allies, including some of the American airmen, even if the Huns outnumbered them.

Back and forth over the German lines swept the glass-bottomed Spad, and at a certain point Tom, who was looking down, uttered an exclamation. Of course Jack could not hear, but he could feel the punch in the back his chum administered a moment later.

Jack turned his head, and saw his chum eagerly pointing downward. A moment later he motioned over his left shoulder, pointing backward, as though they had just passed over something which would warrant a second inspection.

Jack swung the machine about in a big circle, banking sharply, and then, as he passed over the ground covered a little while before, he, too, looked down, and with sharper glance than he had used at first.

What he saw was the ruins of a small French chateau. It had been under heavy fire from the Allied guns, for it had sheltered a German machine gun nest, and some accurate shooting on the part of the American gunners had demolished it a day or so before.

But what attracted the attention of Tom and Jack was that whereas the chateau before the bombardment had stood on a little hill without a tree near it, now there was a miniature forest surrounding it. It was as though trees and bushes had sprung up in the night. As soon as he had seen this, Jack turned to Tom, nodded comprehendingly, and at once started back over the American lines. They had no easy time reaching them, for by this time the fleet of Hun planes had been defeated by the Allies, and had turned tail to run for safety—that is what were left of them, several having been shot down, and at no small cost to the French, English and American forces.

But the defeat of their airmen seemed to anger the Germans, and they opened up with their antiaircraft batteries on the machine in which Tom and Jack were flying homeward. "Woolly bears" and "flaming onions," as well as shrapnel, was used against them, and they were in considerable danger. Jack had to "zoom" several times to get out of reach of the shells.

They finally reached their aerodrome, however, and as soon as they had landed and their plane was taken in charge by the mechanics the two lads hurried to the commanding officer.

"Well?" he asked sharply, as they saluted. "Did you discover anything?"

"I think so, sir," returned Tom, for Jack had told his chum to do the talking, since the discovery was his. "You remember, sir, the old chateau we put out of business the other day?"

"Yes, I recall it. What about it?"

"This: It seems suddenly to have grown a wooded park around it, and the trees and bushes don't seem to be as fresh as natural ones ought to look."

"You mean they camouflaged the ruins, and have put another battery in the old, chateau?"

"I think so, sir. It wouldn't do any harm to drop a few shells there. If it's still a ruin the worst will be that we've wasted a little ammunition and may start the German guns up. And if it is what we think it is, we may blow up the battery."

The commander thought for a moment.

"I'll try it!" he suddenly said. "It's worth all it will cost."

He called an orderly and issued his instructions. Tom and Jack had not yet been dismissed, and now the commanding officer turned to them and said:

"Since you boys were sharp enough to discover this, I'll let you have a front seat at the show which will start soon. Go up and do contact work. Let the gunners know when they make a hit."

The air service boys could not have wished for anything better.

"Once more for our bus!" exclaimed Jack delightedly, when they were outside.

Their Spad had been refilled with gasoline, or "petrol," as it is called on the other side, and oil had been put in, while the machine guns had been looked to.

"You seem to have spotted it all right, Tom," went on Jack, just as they were about to start, for word came that the American batteries were ready.

"Yes, I was looking down through the glass, and when I saw the old chateau it struck me that it had suddenly grown a beard. I remembered it before, as being on a bare hill. I thought it was funny, and that I might be mistaken. But when you agreed with me I knew I was right."

"Oh, the Huns have brought up trees and bushes to disguise the place all right," declared, Jack. "The only question is whether or not the battery is hidden there."

But there was not long a question about that. Their machine was equipped with wireless to signal back the result of the shots, and Jack and Tom were soon in position. From the maps used when they had previously shelled the place to drive out the German gunners, the American artillery forces knew just about where to plant the shells.

There was a burst of fire from the designated battery. Up aloft Jack and Tom watched the shell fall. It was a trifle over, and a correction was signaled back.

A moment later the second shell—a big one sailed over the German first lines, and fell directly on the chateau partly hidden in the woods.

There was a burst of smoke, and with it mingled clouds of dust and flying particles. Faintly to Tom and Jack, above the noise of their motor, came the sound of a terrific explosion.

There had been a direct hit on the old ruins, as was proved by the fact that not only was the German battery put out of commission, but a great quantity of ammunition hidden in the trees and bushes was blown up, and with it a considerable number of Germans.

And that it was a place well garrisoned was evident to the air service boys as they saw a few Huns, who were not killed by the shell and resultant explosion of the ammunition dump, running away from the place of destruction.

"That was it all right," said Jack, as he and Tom landed back of their own lines.

"Yes, and it couldn't have been hit better. I hope that was the battery they wanted put out of business."

And it was, for no more shells came from that vicinity of the Hun positions for a long time. The aeroplane observations had given the very information needed, and Tom and Jack were congratulated, not only by their comrades, but by the commanding officer himself, which counted for a great deal.

XIII. A DARING SCHEME

Tom sat up on his bunk and looked across at Jack, who was just showing signs of returning consciousness—that is, he was getting awake. It was the morning after the successful discovery of the hidden German battery, and since this exploit the two lads had not been required to go on duty.

"What's the matter?" asked Jack, opening his eyes and looking at his chum. "Has the mail come in? Any letters?"

"No. I was just thinking," remarked Tom, and though his eyes were fixed on Jack it was clear that his thoughts were somewhere else.

"Thinking, Tom? That's bad business. Have you seen the doctor?"

"Oh, shut off your gas!" ordered Tom. "You're side slipping. First you know you'll come down in a tail spin and I'll have to be looking for a new partner."

"It's as serious as all that, is it?" asked Jack, as he began to dress. "Well, in that case I withdraw my observation. Go ahead. How's the visibility?"

"Low. We won't have to go up to-day, unless it clears."

"Um. And I was counting on getting a few Huns right after breakfast. Well, what's your think about, if you really were indulging in that expensive pastime?"

"I was," said Tom, and he got up and also proceeded to put on his clothes. "I was thinking about Harry."

"Oh!" and Jack's voice was decidedly different. It had lost all its flippant tone. "Say, he certainly is in tough luck. I wish we could do something for him—and his sister. Doubtless you were thinking of her, too," and a little smile curled his lips.

"Yes, I was thinking of Nellie," conceded Tom, and he was so bold and frank about it that Jack choked back the joke that he was about to make. "I was thinking that we haven't done very much to redeem our promise."

"But how can we?" asked Jack. "We haven't had a chance to do anything to rescue Harry. Of course I want to do that as much as you do, but how is it to be done? Can you answer me that?"

"We can't do it by just talking," said Tom. "That's what I've been thinking about. A scheme came to me in the night, and I've been waiting to tell you about it."

"Shoot then, my pickled blunderbuss," returned Jack. "I'm with you to the last drop of petrol."

"Well, I don't know that it's so much," said Tom. "It's only that we ought to get word to Harry, somehow, that we're thinking of him and trying to plan some way of rescuing him. We ought to tell him his sister is here, too, and, at the same time we might drop him something to smoke and a cake or two of chocolate."

Jack looked at his chum in amazement. Then he burst out with:

"Say, while you're at it why don't you send him a piano, and an automobile, too, so he can ride home when he wants to? What do you mean—getting word to him? Don't you know that the beastly Huns will hold up the mail as they please, and anything else we might send. They don't even let the Red Cross packages go through until they get good and ready. Talk about your barbarians!"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking of the mail," replied Tom.

"No? What then?"

"Why, we know where he is held a prisoner—at least we have the name of the prison camp, and he may be there unless he's been transferred. Of course that's possible, but it's worth taking a chance on."

"A chance on what?" asked Jack, "You haven't explained yet. What do you plan to do?"

"Fly over the place where Harry is held a prisoner and drop down a package and some letters to him," said Tom. "Now wait until you hear it all before you say it can't be done!" he went on quickly, for Jack seemed about to interrupt.

"If Harry is held where he was first made a prisoner, it's a big place, and there are thousands of our captives there, as well as French and British. Well, where there are so many they have to have a big stockade to pen 'em in, worse luck. And dropping a bomb on a big place is easier than dropping one on a small object."

"Say! Suffering snuffle-boxes!" cried Jack. "You don't mean to drop a bomb in Harry's prison, camp, do you? Do you think he might possibly escape in the confusion?"

"Nothing like that," said Tom. "I mean drop a package containing some smokes, some chocolate and a letter telling him we haven't forgotten him and that we're going to try to rescue him, and for him to be on the lookout. That could be done."

"How?"

"By us flying over the place in our speedy Spad. We needn't make a very big package, though the more of something to eat we can give him the better, for those Boches starve our men. Let's get a week off—the commanding officer will let us go. We can go to our old escadrille and make arrangements to start from there. The boys will help us all they can."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that," assented Jack. "They all liked Harry as much as we did. But I can't see that your scheme will succeed. It's a risky one."

"All the more reason why it ought to succeed," declared Tom. "It's the fellows who take chances who get by. Now let's see if we can get a few hours off to go to Paris."

"Go to Paris? What for?"

"To see Nellie Leroy and have her write her brother a letter. It will be better to have one come direct from her than for us merely to give him news of her in one of our notes."

"Yes," agreed Jack, "I guess it would. And I begin to see which way the wind blows. You wish to see Nellie."

"Oh, you make me tired!" exclaimed Tom. "All you can think of is girls! I tell you I'm doing this for Harry!"

"And I believe you, old top, and what's more, I'm with you from the word go. It's a crazy scheme and a desperate one, but for that very reason it may succeed. The only thing is that we may not get permission to carry it out."

"Oh, I don't intend that anyone shall know what our game is," returned Tom. "Of course the authorities would squash it in a minute. No, we'll have to keep dark about that. All we need is permission to do a little flying 'on our own,' for a while."

"Suppose they won't let us do that?"

"Oh, I think they will, after what we did yesterday," said Tom. "Come on, let's get ready to go to Paris."

XIV. WILL THEY SUCCEED?

The scheme evolved, or, perhaps, dreamed of by Tom Raymond in his anxiety to get some word to the captive Harry Leroy worked well at the start. When he and Jack asked permission to have half a day off to make the trip to Paris it was readily granted. Perhaps it was because of their exploit of the day before, when their sharp eyes had discovered the camouflaged German battery and brought about its destruction, or maybe it was because the day was a misty one,+ when no flying could be done.

At any rate, soon after breakfast saw the two boys on their way to the wonderful city—wonderful in spite of war and the German "super cannon," which had itself been destroyed.

Tom and Jack knew that unless their plans were changed, the two girls and Mrs. Gleason would be at home in Paris, for they had a holiday once in every seven, and it was their custom to come to their lodging for a rest from the merciful, though none the less exceedingly trying, Red Cross work.

Nor had the boys guessed in vain, for when they presented themselves at the Gleason lodging, where Nellie Leroy was also staying, they were greeted with exclamations of delight.

"We were just thinking of you," said Bessie, as she shook hands with Jack.

"And so we were of you," Jack replied, gallantly.

"I thought of it first," said Tom. "He'll have to give me credit for that."

"Yes," agreed Jack, "I will. He's got a great scheme," he added, as Mrs. Gleason came in to greet the boys. "Tell 'em, Tom."

"Is it anything about—oh, have you any news for me about Harry?" asked Nellie eagerly.

"Not exactly news from him, but we're going to send some news to him!" exclaimed Tom. "I want you to write him a letter-a real, nice, sisterly letter."

"What good will that do?" asked Nellie. "I've sent him a lot, but I can't be sure that he gets them. I don't even know that he is alive."

"Oh, I think he is," said Tom, hopefully. "If the German airmen were decent enough to let us know he was a prisoner of theirs, they would tell us if—if—well, if anything had happened to him."

"I think," he went on, "that you, can count on his being alive, though he isn't having the best time in the world—none of the Hun prisoners do. That's why I thought it would cheer him up to let him know we are thinking of him, and if we can send him some smokes, and some chocolate."

"Oh, he is so fond of chocolate!" exclaimed Nellie. "He used to love the fudge I made. I wonder if I could send him any of that?"

Tom shook his head.

"It would be better," he said, "to send only hard chocolate—the kind that can stand hard knocks. Fudge is too soft. It would get all mussed up with what Jack and I have planned to do to it."

"What is that?" asked Bessie Gleason. "You haven't told us yet. How are you going to get anything to Harry through those horrid German lines?"

"We're not going through the German lines we're going above 'em; in an aeroplane. And when we get over the prison camp where Harry is held, we're going to drop down a package to him, with the, letters, the chocolate and other things inside."

"Oh, that's perfectly wonderful!" exclaimed Bessie. "But will the Germans let you do it?"

"Well," remarked Jack, "they'll probably try to stop us, but we don't mind a little thing like that. We're used to it. Of course, as I tell Torn, it's a long chance, but it's worth taking. Of course it isn't easy to drop any object from a moving aeroplane and have it land at a certain spot. We may miss the mark."

"For that reason I'm going to take several packages," put in Tom. "If one doesn't land another may."

"But if you do succeed in dropping a package for Harry in the midst of the German stockade, won't the guards see it and confiscate it?" asked Mrs. Gleason. "You know they'll be as brutal as they dare to the prisoners—though of course,"' she added quickly, as she saw a look of pain on Nellie's face, "Harry may be in a half-way decent camp. But, even then, won't the Germans keep the package themselves?"

"I've thought of that," replied Tom. "We've got to take that chance also. But I figure that, in the confusion, Harry, or some of his fellow prisoners, may pick up the package, or packages, unobserved. Of course there's only a slim chance that Harry himself will pick up the bundle. But it will be addressed to him, and if any of the French, British, or American prisoners get it, they'll see that it goes to Harry all right."

"Oh, of course," murmured Mrs. Gleason. "But what was that you said about the 'confusion?'"

"That's something different," said Tom. "I'm counting on dropping a few bombs on the German works outside the camp, to—er—well, to sort of take their attention off the packages we'll try to drop inside the stockade. Of course while we're doing this we may be and probably shall be, under fire ourselves. But we've got to take that chance. It's a mad scheme, Jack says, and I realize that it is. But we've got to do something."

"Yes," said Nellie in a low voice, "we must do something. This suspense is terrible. Oh, if I only could get word to Harry!"

"You write the letter and I'll take it!" declared Tom.

"And I'll help!" exclaimed Jack.

And then the letters—several of them, for each one wrote a few lines and made triplicates of it, since three packages were to be dropped. The letters, to begin again, were written and the bundles were made up. They contained cigarettes, cakes of hard chocolate, soap and a few other little comforts and luxuries that it was certain Harry would be glad to get.

The rest of the plan would have to be left to Tom and Jack to work out, and, having talked it over with their friends, they found it was time for them to start to their station, since their leave was up at eleven o'clock that night.

Getting permission for a week's absence was not as easy as securing permission to go to Paris. But Tom and Jack waited until after a sharp engagement, during which they distinguished themselves by bravery in. the air, assisting in bringing down some Hun planes, and then their petition was favorably acted on.

Behold them next, as a Frenchman might say, on their way to their former squadron, where they were welcomed with open arms. They had to take the commanding officer into their confidence, but he offered no objection to their scheme. They must go alone, however, and without his official knowledge or sanction, since it was not strictly a military matter.

And so Tom and Jack were furnished with the best and speediest machine in their former camp, and one bright day, following a hard air battle in which the Huns were worsted, they set out to drop the letters and packages over the prison camp where Harry Leroy was held.

"Well, how do you feel about it?" asked Jack, as he and his chum stepped into their trim machine.

"Not at all afraid, if that's what you mean."

"No. And you know I didn't. I mean do you think we'll pull it off?"

"I have a sneaking suspicion that we shall."

"And so have I. It's a desperate chance, but it may succeed. Only if it does, and we get Harry's hopes raised for a rescue, how are we going to pull that off?"

"That's another story," remarked Tom. "Another story."

They mounted into the clear, bright air, and proceeded toward the German lines. Would they reach their objective, or would they be shot down, to be either killed or made prisoners themselves? Those were questions they could not answer. But they hoped for the best.

XV. BADLY HIT

Before undertaking their kindly though dangerous mission, Tom and Jack had carefully studied it from all angles. At first Jack had been frankly skeptical, and he said as much to his chum.

"You'll never get over the place where Harry is held a prisoner," declared Jack. "And, if you do, and start to dropping packages, they'll never land within a mile of the place you intend, and Harry'll have the joy of seeing some fat German eat his chocolate cake."

"Well, maybe," Tom had agreed, "But I'm going to try."

To this end they had secured the best map possible of the ground in and around the prison camp. Its location they knew from the dropped glove of the aviator, which contained a note telling about Leroy.

It was not uncommon for Germany to disclose to her enemies the names of prisons where certain of the Allies were confined, and this was also done by England and France. The prison camps were located far enough behind the defense lines to make it impossible for them to, be reached in the course of ordinary fighting.

Then, too, the airmen of Germany seemed a step above her other fighters in that they were more chivalrous. So Tom and Jack felt reasonably certain as to Leroy's whereabouts. Of course it was possible that he had been moved since the note was written, but on this point they would have to take a chance.

To this end they had provided themselves not only with the best maps obtainable showing the character of the ground and the nature of the defenses around the prison, where Harry and other Allied men were held, but inquiries had also been made by those in authority, at the request of Tom and Jack, of German prisoners, and from them had come information of value about the place.

Of course the two air service boys had no hope of inflicting much damage on batteries or works outside the prison. By the dropping of some bombs they carried they hoped to distract attention from themselves long enough to drop the packages to Leroy. The bombs were a sort of feint.

And now they were on their way, winging a path over their own lines, and soon they would be above those of the Hun.

Some of the former comrades of Tom and Jack, having been apprised of what the lads were to attempt, had, without waiting for official orders, decided to do what they could to help. This took the form of a daring challenge to the German airmen to come out and give battle.

After their thorough drubbing of the day before, however, the Boche aviators did not seem much inclined to venture forth for another cloud fight. But the French and some English fliers who were acting with them, laid a sort of trap, which, in a way, aided the two Americans.

A half dozen swift Spads took the air soon after Tom and Jack ascended, but instead of flying over the German lines they went in the opposite direction, making their way to the west. They got out of sight, and then mounted to a great height.

Shortly after this some heavy, double-seated planes set out for the German territory as though to make observations or take photographs. It was the belief of the French airmen that the Huns would swarm out to attack these planes, or else to give battle to the machine in which Tom and Jack rode. And, in such an event, the swift Spads would swoop down out of a great height and engage in the conflict.

And that is exactly what occurred. Torn and Jack had flown only a little way over the trenches of the enemy when they saw some Hun planes coming up to meet them. It was in the minds of both lads that they were in for a fight, but before they had a chance to sight their guns, some French planes of the slow type appeared in their rear.

To these the Huns at once turned their attention, and then the Spads swooped down, and there was a sharp engagement in the air, which ultimately resulted in victory for the Allied forces, though two of the French fliers were wounded.

But the feint had its effect, and attention was drawn away from Tom and Jack, who flew on toward the prison camp.

Had their mission been solely to carry words of cheer with some material comforts to Harry Leroy, it is doubtful if Tom and Jack would have received permission to make the trip. But it was known they were both daring aviators and good observers, and it was this latter ability on their part which counted in their favor. For it was thought they might bring back information concerning matters well back of the German front lines, information which would be of service to the Allies.

And in furtherance of this scheme Jack and Tom made maps of the country over which they were flying. They had been provided with materials for this before leaving.

On and on they flew, changing their height occasionally, and, when they were fired at, which was the case not infrequently, they "zoomed" to escape the flying shrapnel.

But on the whole, they fared very well, and in a comparatively short time they found themselves over the country where, on the maps, was marked the location of Harry Leroy's prison camp.

"There it is!" suddenly exclaimed Tom, but of course Jack could not hear him. However, a punch in Jack's back served the same purpose, and he took his eyes from his instruments long enough to look down. Then a confirmatory glance at the map made him agree with Tom. The air service boys were directly over the prison camp.

This, like so many other dreary places set up by the Germans, consisted of a number of shacks, in barrack fashion, with a central parade, or exercise ground. About it all was a barbed wire stockade and, though the character of these wires did not show, there were also some carrying a deadly electric current.

This was to discourage escapes on the part of prisoners, and it succeeded only too well.

But the camp was in plain sight, and in the central space could be seen a number of ant-like figures which the boys knew were prisoners.

Whether one of them was Leroy or not, they were unable to say.

But they had reached their objective, and now it was time to act. High time, indeed, for below them batteries began sending up shells which burst uncomfortably close to them. They were of all varieties, from plain shrapnel to "flaming onions" and "woolly bears," the latter a most unpleasant object to meet in mid-air.

For the Germans were taking no chances. They knew the vulnerable points of their prison camp lay above, and they had provided a ring of anti-aircraft guns to take care of any Allied, machines that might fly over the place. Whether any such daring scheme had been tried before or not, Tom and Jack could not say.

Of course it was out of the question that any great damage could be done in the vicinity of the camp without endangering the inmates, so it was not thought, in all likelihood, that any very heavy air raids would have to be repelled. But in any case, the Huns were ready for whatever might happen.

"Better drop the bombs, hadn't we?" cried Jack to Tom, as he slowed down the motor a moment to enable his voice to be heard.

"I guess so—yes. Drop 'em and then shoot over the camp again and let the packages fall. It's getting pretty hot here."

And indeed it was. Guns were shooting at the two daring air service boys from all sides of the camp.

In the camp itself great excitement prevailed, for the prisoners knew, now, that it was some of their friends flying above them.

There was another danger, too. Not many miles away from the prison camp was a German aerodrome, and scenes of activity could now be noticed there. The Huns were getting ready to send up a machine—perhaps more than one—to attack Tom and Jack.

It was, then, high time they acted, and as Jack again started the engine, he guided the machine over a spot where the anti-aircraft guns were most active.

"There's a battery there I may put out of business," he argued.

Flying fast, Jack was soon over the spot, or, rather, not so much over it, as in range of it. For when an aeroplane drops a bomb on a given objective, it does not do so when directly above, but just before it reaches it. The momentum of the plane, going at great speed, carries any object dropped from it forward. It is as when a mail pouch is thrown from a swiftly moving express train or a bundle of newspapers is tossed off. In both instances the man in the train tosses the pouch or his bundle before his car gets to the station platform, and the momentum does the rest.

It was that way with the bomb Jack released by a touch of his foot on the lever in the cockpit of the machine. Down it darted, and, wheeling sharply after he had let it go, the lad saw a great puff of smoke hovering directly over the spot where, but a moment before, Hun gums had been belching at him.

"Good! A sure hit!" cried Tom, but he alone heard his own words. Jack's ears were filled with the throb of the motor. He had two more bombs, and these were quickly dropped at different points on German territory outside the camp.

At the time, aside from the evidences they saw, Jack and Tom were not aware of the damage they inflicted, but later they learned it was considerable and effective. However, they guessed that they had created enough of a diversion to try now to deliver the packages containing the letters and other comforts.

Jack swung the machine at a sharp angle over the prison camp, and as he cleared the barbed wire fence Tom, who had been given charge of the packets, let one go. It fell just outside the barrier, caused by some freak of the wind perhaps, and the lad could not keep back a sigh of dismay. One of the three precious packages had fallen short of the mark, and would doubtless be picked up by some German guard.

But Tom had the satisfaction of seeing the two other bundles fall fairly within the prison fence, and there was a rush on the part of the unfortunate men to pick them up.

"I only hope Harry's there," mused Tom. "That's tough luck to wish a man, I know," he reflected, "but I mean I hope he gets the letters and things."

However, he and Jack had done all that lay in their power to make this possible, and it was now time to get back to their own lines if they could. The place was getting too dangerous for them.

Swinging about in a big circle, and noting that groups of prisoners were now gathered about the place where the packets had fallen, Jack sent the machine toward that part of France where they had spent so many strenuous days.

"They're going to make it lively for us!" cried Jack, as he noted two swift German planes mounting into the air. "It's going to be a fight."

But he and Tom were ready for this. Their Lewis and Vickers guns were in position, and they only awaited the approach of the nearest Hun plane to unlimber them. They mounted steadily upward to get beyond the range of the anti-aircraft batteries and were soon in comparative safety, since the Huns, at this particular sector at least, were notoriously bad marksmen.

With the German planes, that would be a different story, and Tom and Jack soon found this out to their cost.

For one of the Boche machines came on speedily, and much more quickly than the boys had believed possible was within range. The German machine guns—for it was a double plane—began spitting fire and bullets at them. They replied, but did not seem to inflict much damage.

Suddenly Tom saw Jack give a jump, as though in an agony of pain, and then the young pilot crumpled up in his seat.

"Badly hit!" exclaimed Tom with a pang at his own heart. "Poor Jack is out of it!"

The machine, out of control for a moment, started to go into a nose dive, but Tom let go the lever of his machine gun, and took charge of the craft, since it was one capable of dual manipulation. Tom now had to become the pilot and gunner, too, and he had yet a long way to go to reach his own lines, while Jack was huddled, before him, either dead or badly wounded.

XVI. JUST IN TIME

It was with mingled feelings of alarm and sorrow that Tom Raymond sent the speedy Spad aeroplane on its homeward way toward the French lines. He was worried, not chiefly about his own safety, but on account of Jack; and his sorrow was in the thought that perhaps he had taken his last flight with his beloved chum and comrade in arms. He could not see where Jack had been hit, but this was because the other lad lay in such a huddled position in the cockpit. Jack had slumped from his seat, the safety straps alone holding him in position, though he would not have fallen out when the machine was upright as it was at present.

"One of those machine gun bullets must have got him," mused Tom, as he started the craft on an upward climb, for it had darted downward when Jack's nerveless hands and feet ceased their control. For part of the steering in an aeroplane is done by the feet of the pilot, leaving his hands free, at times, to fire the machine gun or draw maps.

Tom had a double object in starting to rise. One was to get into a better position to make the homeward flight, and another was to have a better chance not only to ward off the attack of the Hun planes, of which there were now three in the air, but also to return their fire. It is the machine that is higher up that stands the best chance in an aerial duel, for not only can one maneuver to better advantage, but the machine can be aimed more easily with reference to the fixed gun.

In Tom's case he did not have access to this weapon, which was fixed on the rim of the cockpit where Jack could, and where he had been controlling, it. With Jack out of the fight, through one or more German bullets, it was up to Tom to return the fire of the Huns from his swivel mounted Lewis gun. He was going to have difficulty in doing this and also guiding the craft, but he had had harder problems than this to meet since becoming an aviator in the great war, and now he quickly conquered his worrying over Jack, and began to look to himself.

He gave one more fleeting glance at the crumpled-up figure of his chum, seeking for a sign of life, but he saw none. Then he swung about, turning in toward the nearest Hun airman, and not away from him, and opened up with the machine gun, using both hands on that for a moment, while he steered with his knees.

It was not easy work, and Tom hardly expected to make a direct hit, but he must have come uncomfortably close to the Boche, for the latter swerved off, and for an instant his plane seemed beyond control. Whether this was due to a wound received by the aviator, or to a trick on his part was not disclosed to Tom. But the machine darted downward and seemed to be content to veer off for a while.

The third plane Tom soon saw was not going to trouble him, as it had not speed equal to his own, so that he really had left only one antagonist with whom to deal. And this plane, containing two men, with whom he had not yet come to close quarters, was racing toward him at great speed.

"I guess there's only one thing to do," mused Tom, "and that's to run for it. I won't stand any show at all with two of them shooting at me, while I have to manage the machine and the gun too. If I can beat 'em to our lines I'd better do it and run the chance of some of our boys coming out to take care of 'em. I'd better get Jack to a doctor as soon as I can."

And abandoning the gun to give all his attention to the motor, Tom opened it full and sped on his way. The other machine's occupants saw his plan and tried to stop it with a burst of bullets, but the range was a little too far for effective work.

"Now for a race!" thought Tom, and that is what it turned out to be. Seeing that he was going to try to get away, the Hun plane, which was almost as speedy as the one Tom and Jack had started out in, took after them. The other German craft was left far in the rear, and the one Tom had shot at appeared to be in such difficulties that it was practically out of the fight.

Thus the odds, once so greatly against our heroes, were now greatly reduced, though not yet equal, since Jack was completely out of the game—for how long Tom could only guess, and he seemed to feel cold fingers clutching at his heart when he thought of this.

But Tom soon discovered, by a backward glance over his shoulder now and then, that his machine, barring accidents, would distance the other, and this was what his aim now was. So on and on he sped, watching the German occupied French territory unrolling itself below him, coming nearer and nearer each minute to his own lines and safety.

Behind them, he and Jack—for the latter had done his share before being wounded—had left consternation in the German ranks. The bombs had done considerable damage—as was learned later—and the dropping of packages within the prison camp was fraught with potential danger to an extent at which the Boches could only guess.

On and on sped Tom, sparing time, now and then, to look back at his pursuers, who were, it could not be doubted, doing their best to get within effective range. And, every now and again, Tom would glance at the motionless form of his churn.

But poor Jack never stirred, and Tom was fearing more and more that his chum had made his last flight. As for the Hun aviators, after using up a drum or so of bullets uselessly, they ceased firing and urged their machine on to the uttermost.

But Tom had the start of them, and he was also on a higher level, so that the Germans must climb at an oblique angle to reach him.

And, thanks to this, Tom saw that, if nothing else happened, he would soon be in comparative safety with the unconscious form of Jack. The anti-aircraft batteries were firing in vain, as he was beyond their range, and, far away, he could see the lines of the French armies, behind which he soon hoped to be.

And then the unexpected happened, or, rather, it had taken place some time since, but it was only then brought to Tom's attention. His engine began missing, and when he sought for a cause he speedily found it. Nearly all the gasoline had leaked out of the main tank. As he knew that there had been plenty for the return flight, there was but one explanation of this. A Hun bullet had pierced the petrol reservoir, letting the precious fluid leak away.

"Now if the auxiliary tank has any in it, I'm fairly all right," thought Tom. "If it hasn't, I'm all in."

His worst fears were confirmed, for the auxiliary tank had suffered a like fate with the main one. Both were pierced. There were only a few drops left, besides those even then being vaporized in the carburetor.

With despair in his heart, Tom looked back. If the Hun plane chose to rush him now all would be over with him and Jack. He had only enough fuel for another thousand meters or so, and then he must volplane.

He saw a burst of flame and smoke from the enemy plane, and realized that he was being shot at again. But the distance was still too far for effective aim.

And then, to his joy, Tom saw the pursuer turn and start back toward the German territory. The firing had been a last, desperate attempt to end his career, and it had failed. Either the Huns were almost out of petrol themselves, or they did not relish getting too close to the French lines.

"And now, if I can volplane down the rest of the way, I'll be in a fair position to save myself," mused Tom, as he made a calculation of the distance he had yet to go. It was far, but he was at a good height and believed he could do it.

Suddenly his engine stopped, as though with a sigh of regret that it could no longer serve him, and Tom knew that volplaning alone would save him now. He was still over the enemy country, and had his plight been guessed at by the Germans, undoubtedly they would have sent a machine up to attack him. But they were in ignorance.

There was nothing to do but drift along. Gravity alone urged the craft on. As he swept over the German trenches Tom was greeted with a burst of shrapnel, and he was now low enough to be vulnerable to this. But luck was with him, and though the plane was hit several times he thought he was unharmed. But in this he was wrong. He received a glancing wound in one leg, but in the excitement he did not notice it, and it was not until he had landed that he saw the blood, and knew what had happened.

On and on, and down and down he volplaned until he was so near his own lines, and so low down, that he could hear the burst of cheers from his former comrades.

Then he aimed his craft for a level, grassy place to make a landing, and as he came to a gradual stop, and was surrounded by a score of eager aviators, he cried out, as soon as he could speak, "I'm all right! But look after Jack! He's hurt!"

A surgeon bent hastily over the huddled form, and with the aid of some men lifted it from the cockpit. Jack's legs were covered with blood, and when the medical man saw whence it came, then and there he set hastily to work to stop the bleeding from a large artery.

"You got back only just in time, my friend," he said to Tom, as Jack was carried to a hospital. "Two minutes more and he would have been bled to death."

XVII. A CRASH

Not until a day or so later, when Jack was able to sit up in bed and greet Tom with rather a pale face, did the latter learn all that had happened. And it was a very close call that Jack had had.

As Tom had guessed, it was some of the bullets from the Hun machine gun that had stricken down his chum. One had struck him a glancing blow on the head, rendering Jack unconscious and sending him down, a crumpled-up heap in the cockpit of his machine. Another bullet, coming through the machine later, had found lodgment in Jack's leg, cutting part way through the wall of one of the larger arteries.

It was certain that this bullet, the one in the leg, came after Jack was hit on the head, for that first wound was the only one he remembered receiving.

"It was just as though I saw not only stars' but moons, suns, comets, rainbows and northern lights all at once," he explained to his chum.

The bullet in the leg had cut only part way through the wall of an artery. At first the tissues held the blood back from spurting out in a stream that would soon have carried life with it. But either some unconscious motion on Jack's part, or a jarring of the plane, broke the half-severed wall, and, just before Tom landed, his chum began to bleed dangerously. Then it was the surgeon had made his remark, and acted in time to save Jack's life.

"Well, I guess we made good all right," remarked Jack, as his chum visited him in the hospital.

"I reckon so," was the answer, "though the Huns haven't sent us any love letters to say so. But we surely did drop the packages in the prison camp, though whether Harry got them or not is another story. But we did our part."

"That's right," agreed Jack. "Now the next thing is to get busy and bring Harry out of there if we can."

"The next thing for you to do is to keep quiet until that wound in your leg heals," said the doctor, with a smile. "If you don't, you won't do any more flying, to say nothing of making any rescues. Be content with what you did. The whole camp is talking of your exploit. It was noble!"

"Shucks!" exclaimed Tom, in English, for they had been speaking French for the benefit of the surgeon, who was of that nationality.

"Ah, and what may that mean?" he asked.

"I mean it wasn't anything," translated Tom. "Anybody could have done what we did."

But of this the surgeon had his doubts.

In spite of the dangerous character of his wound, Jack made a quick recovery. He was in excellent condition, and the wound was a clean one, so, as soon as the walls of the artery had healed, he was able to be about, though he was weak from loss of blood. However, that was soon made good, and he and Tom, bidding farewell to their late comrades, returned to the American lines. They had been obliged to get an extension of leave—at least Jack had—though Tom could report back on time, and he spent the interim between that and Jack's return to duty, serving as instructor to the "huns" of his own camp. They were eager to learn, and anxious to do things for themselves.

Before long Jack returned, though he was not assigned to duty, and he and Tom visited Paris and told Nellie, Bessie and Mrs. Gleason the result of their mission.

"You didn't see Harry, of course?" asked Nellie, negatively, though really hoping that the answer would be in the affirmative.

"Oh, no, we couldn't make out any individual prisoner," said Tom. "There was a bunch of 'em—I mean a whole lot—there."

"Poor fellows!" said Mrs. Gleason kindly, "Let us hope that they will soon be released."

"Tom and I have been trying to hit on some plan to rescue Harry," put in Jack. "And we'd help any others to get away that we could. But is isn't going to be easy."

"Oh, I don't see how you can do it!" exclaimed Nellie. "Of course I would give anything in the world to have Harry back with me, but I must not ask you to run into needless danger on his account. That would be too much. Your lives are needed here to beat back the Huns. Harry may live to see the day of victory, and then all will be well."

"I don't believe in waiting, if anything can be done before that." Tom spoke grimly. "But, as Jack says, it isn't going to be easy," he went on. "However, we haven't given up. The only thing is to hit on some plan that's feasible."

They talked of this, but could arrive at nothing. They were not even sure—which made it all the harder to bear—that Harry had received the packages dropped in the prison camp at such risk. The only thing that could be done was to wait and see if he wrote to his sister or his former chums. Letters occasionally did come from German prisoners, but they were rare, and could be depended on neither as to time of delivery nor as to authenticity of contents.

So it was a case of waiting and hoping.

Jack was not yet permitted to fly, so Tom had to go alone. But he served as an instructor, leaving the more dangerous work of patrol, fighting, and reconnaissance to others until he was fit to stand the strain of flying and of fighting once more.

"Sergeant Raymond, you will take up Martin to-day," said the flight lieutenant to Tom one morning. "Let him manage the plane himself unless you see that he is going to get into trouble. And give him a good flight."

"Yes, sir," answered Tom, as he turned away, after saluting.

He found his pupil, a young American from the Middle West, who was not as old as he and Jack, awaiting him impatiently.

"I'm to get my second wing soon, and I want to show that I can manage a plane all by myself, even if you're in it," said the lad, whose name was Dick Martin. "They say I can make a solo flight to-morrow if I do well to-day."

"Well, go to it!" exclaimed Tom with a laugh. "I'm willing."

Soon they were in a double-seater of fairly safe construction—that is, it was not freakish nor speedy, and was what was usually used in this instructive work.

"I'm going to fly over the town," declared Martin, naming the French city nearest the camp. "Well, mind you keep the required distance up," cautioned Tom, for there was, a regulation making it necessary for the aviators to fly at a certain minimum height above a town in flying across it, so that if they developed engine trouble, they could coast safely down and land outside the town itself.

"I'll do that," promised Martin.

But either he forgot this, or he was unable to keep at the required height, for he began scaling down when about over the center of the place. Tom saw what was happening, and reached over to take the controls. But something happened. There was a jam of one of the levers, and to his consternation Tom saw the machine going down and heading straight for a large greenhouse on the outskirts of the town.

"There's going to be one beautiful crash!" Tom thought, as he worked in vain to send the craft up. But it was beyond control.

XVIII. GETTING A ZEPPELIN

Dick Martin became frantic when he saw what was about to happen. He fairly tore at the various levers and controls, and even increased the speed of the motor, but this last only had the effect of sending the machine at a faster rate toward the big expanse of glass, which was the greenhouse roof.

"Shut it off! Shut off the motor!" cried Tom, but his words could not be heard, so he punched Martin in the back, and when that frightened lad looked around his teacher made him understand by signs, what was wanted.

With the motor off there was a chance to speak, and Torn cried:

"Head her up! Try to make her rise and we may clear. I can't do a thing with the levers back here!"

Martin tried, but his efforts had little effect. For one instant the machine rose as though to clear the fragile glass. Then it dived down again, straight for the greenhouse roof.

"Guess it's all up with this machine!" thought Tom quickly. He was not afraid of being killed. The distance to fall was not enough for that, and though he and his fellow aviator might be cut by broken glass, still the body of the aeroplane would protect them pretty well from even this contingency. But there was sure to be considerable damage to the property of a French civilian, and the machine, which was one of the best, was pretty certain to be badly broken.

And then there came a terrific crash. The aeroplane settled down by the stern, and rose by the bow, so to speak. Then the process was reversed, and Tom felt himself being catapulted out of his seat. Only his safety strap held him in place. The same thing happened to Dick Martin.

Then there was an ominous calm, and the aeroplane slowly settled down to an even keel, held up on the glass-stripped frames of the greenhouse, one of the very few in that vicinity, which was considerably in the rear of the battle line.

Slowly Tom unbuckled his safety strap and climbed out, making his way to the ground by means of stepping on an elevated bed of flowers inside the now almost roofless house.

Martin followed him, and as they stood looking at the wreckage they had made, or, rather, that had been made through no direct fault of their own, the proprietor of the place came out, wearing a long dirt-smudged apron.

He raised his hands in horror at the sight that met his gaze, and then broke into such a torrent of French that Tom, with all the experience he had had of excitable Frenchmen, was unable to comprehend half of it.

The gist was, however, to the effect that a most monstrous and unlooked-for calamity had befallen, and the inhabitants of all the earth, outside of Germany and her allies, were called on to witness that never hid there been such a smash of good glass. In which Torn was rather inclined to agree.

"Well, you did something this time all right, Buddie," Tom remarked to Dick Martin.

"Did I—did I do that?" he asked, as though he had been walking in his sleep, and was just now awake.

"Well, you and the old bus together," said Tom. "And we got off lucky at that. Didn't I tell you to keep high, if you were going to fly over one of the towns?"

"Yes, you did, but I forgot. Anyhow I'd have cleared the place if the controls hadn't gone back on us."

"I suppose so, but that excuse won't go with the C.O. It's a bad smash."

By this time quite a crowd had gathered, and Tom was trying to pacify the excitable greenhouse owner by promising full reparation in the shape of money damages.

How to get the machine down off the roof, where it rested in a mass of broken glass and frames, was a problem. Tom tried to organize a wrecking party, but the French populace which gathered, much as it admired the Americans, was afraid of being cut with the broken glass, or else they imagined that the machine might suddenly soar aloft, taking some of them with it.

In the end Tom had to leave the plane where it was and hire a motor to take him and Martin back to the aerodrome. They were only slightly cut by flying glass, nothing to speak of considering the danger in which they had been.

The result of the disobedience of orders was that the army officials had rather a large bill for damages to settle with the French greenhouse proprietor, and Tom and Dick Martin were deprived of their leave privileges for a week for disobeying the order to keep at a certain height in flying over a town or city.

Had they done that, when the controls jammed, they would have been able to glide down into a vacant field, it was demonstrated. The machine was badly damaged, though it was not beyond repair.

"And that's the last time I'm ever going to be soft with a Hun, you can make up your mind to that," declared Tom to Jack. "If I'd sat on him hard when I saw he was getting too low over the village, it wouldn't have happened. But I didn't want him to think I knew it all, and I thought I'd take a chance and let him pull his own chestnuts out of the fire. But never again!"

"'Tisn't safe," agreed Jack. He was rapidly improving, so much so that he was able to fly the next week, and he and Tom went up together, and did some valuable scouting work for the American army.

At times they found opportunity to take short trips to Paris, where they saw Nellie and Bessie, and were entertained by Mrs. Gleason. Nellie was eager for some word from her brother, but none came. Whether the packages dropped by Tom and Jack reached the prisoner was known only to the Germans, and they did not tell.

But the daring plan undertaken by the two air service boys was soon known a long way up and down the Allied battle line, and more than one aviator tried to duplicate it, so that friends or comrades who were held by the Huns might receive some comforts, and know they were not forgotten. Some of the Allied birdmen paid the penalty of death for their daring, but others reported that they had dropped packages within the prison camps, though whether those for whom they were intended received them or not, was not certain.

"But we aren't going to let it stop there, are we?" asked Tom of Jack one day, when they were discussing the feat which had been so successful.

"Let it stop where? What do you mean?"

"I mean are we going to do something to get Harry away from the Boche nest?"

"I'm with you in anything like that!" exclaimed Jack. "But what can we do? How are we going to rescue him?"

"That's what we've got to think out," declared Tom. "Something has to be done."

But there was no immediate chance to proceed to that desired end because of something vital that happened just about then. This was nothing more nor less than secret news that filtered into the Allied lines, to the effect that a big Zeppelin raid over Paris was planned.

It was not the first of these raids, nor, in all likelihood, would it be the last. But this one was novel in that it was said the great German airships would sail toward the capital over the American lines, or, rather, the lines where the Americans were brigaded with the French and English. Doubtless it was to "teach the Americans a lesson," as the German High Command might have put it.

At any rate all leaves of absence for the airmen were canceled, and they were ordered to hold themselves in readiness to repel the "Zeps," as they were called, preventing them from getting across the lines to Paris.

"And we'll bring down one or two for samples, if we can!" boasted Jack.

"What makes it so sure that they are coming?" asked Tom.

It developed there was nothing sure about it. But the information had come from the Allied air secret service, and doubtless had its inception when some French or British airman saw scenes of activity near one of the Zeppelin headquarters in the German-occupied territory. There were certain fairly positive signs.

And, surely enough, a few nights later, the agreed-upon alarm was sounded.

"The Zeps are coming!"

Tom and Jack, with others who were detailed to repel the raid, rushed from their cats, hastily donned their fur garments, and ran to their aeroplanes, which were a "tuned up" and waiting.

"There they are!" cried Torn, as he got into his single-seated plane, an example followed on his part by Jack. "Look!"

Jack gazed aloft. There was a riot of fire from the anti-aircraft guns of the French and British, but they were firing in vain, for the Zeppelins flew high, knowing the danger from the ground batteries.

Sharp, stabbing shafts of light from the powerful electric lanterns shot aloft, and now and then one of them would rest for an instant on a great silvery cigar-shape—the gas bag of the big German airships that were beating their way toward Paris, there to deal death and destruction.

"Come on!" cried Tom, as his mechanician started the motor. "I'm going to get a Zep!"

"I'm with you!" yelled Jack, and they soared aloft side by side.

XIX. ON PATROL

Aloft with Tom and Jack were several other fighters, for it was not only considered a great honor to bring down a Zeppelin, but it would save many lives if one or more of the big gas machines could be prevented from dropping bombs on Paris or its environs.

The machines which were used were all of the single type, though of different makes and speeds. Each one was equipped with electric launching tubes. These were a somewhat new device for use against captive Hun balloons and Zeppelins and were installed in many of the fighting scout craft of the Americans and Allies.

Between the knees of Toni and Jack, as well as each of the other pilots, was a small metal tube. This went completely through the floor of the cockpit, so that, had it been large enough to give good vision, one could view through it the ground beneath.

In a little rack at the right of each scout were several small bombs of various kinds. Some were intended to set on fire whatever they came in contact with, being of phosphorus. Others were explosive bombs, pure and simple, while some were flares, intended to light up the scene at night and make getting a target easier.

Included in the rack of death and destruction was a simple stick; not unlike a walking cane, and this seemed so comparatively harmless that an uninitiated observer would almost invariably ask its use.

At the lower end of the launching tube, through which the bombs were dropped, was a "trip," or sort of catch, that caught on a trigger fastened to each bomb. The trip pulled the trigger, so to speak, and set in operation the firing device.

In the early days, though doubtless the defect was afterwards corrected, the bombs sometimes stuck in the launching tube, and as they were likely to go off in this position at any moment, it was the custom of the pilots to push them on their way with the cane if the missiles jammed. Hence it was an essential part of each flying machine's armament.

Higher and higher mounted the fighting scouts, with Tom and Jack among their number. It was necessary to mount very high in order to get above the Zeppelins, as in this position alone was it possible for the aeroplanes to fight them to any advantage. The Zeppelins carried many machine guns of long range, and for the pigmy planes to attack them on the same level, meant destruction to the smaller craft.

There were several German machines in the raid toward Paris, but Tom and Jack caught sight of only two. The others were either at too great a height to be observed, or else were farther off, lost in the haze.

But the two silver shapes, resembling nothing so much as huge, expensive cigars, wrapped in tinfoil, were flying on their way, now and then dropping bombs, which exploded with dull, muffled reports — an earnest of what they would do when they got over Paris. They were traveling fast, under the impulse of their own powerful motors and propellers, and also aided by a stiff breeze.

Of course conversation was out of the question among Tom, Jack and the other aviators, but they knew the general plan of the fight. They were to get above the Zeppelins—as many of them as could—and drop bombs on the gas envelope. They were also to attack with machine guns if possible, aiming at the rudder controls and machinery. It was the great desire of the Allied commanders to have a Zeppelin brought down as nearly intact as possible.

Up and up climbed the speedy scout machines, and it was seen that some of them would never get in a position to do any damage. The German craft were traveling too speedily. But Tom and Jack managed to get to a height of about twenty thousand feet, which was above the Zeppelins, though by this time the Germans were in advance of them, for they had climbed at rather a steep angle. However, they knew their speed was many times that of the German machine on a straight course.

On and on they went. Then came a mist which hid the enemy from sight. The aviators railed at their luck, and Tom and Jack dropped down a bit, hoping to get through the mist. It lay below them like a great, gray blanket.

Suddenly they fairly plumped through it, and saw, not far away, the two big silver shapes, shining in the searchlights which were now giving good illumination. It was a moonlight night, which seemed a favorite for a German bombing expedition.

Far below them, and beneath the Zepplins, Tom and Jack could see the lights of other aeroplanes, which were flying low to observe lanterns on the ground, set in the shape of arrows, to indicate in which direction the German craft were traveling. Later, if necessary, these observing machines could climb aloft and signal to those higher up.

Nearer and nearer Jack and Tom came to one of the Zeppelins. And now, in the semi-darkness, they became aware that they were being fired at by a long-range gun on the German craft. The bullets sung about them, but though their machines were hit several times, as they learned later, they escaped injury.

Now the battle of the air was on in grim and deadly earnest. Several scout planes flew at the big Zeppelin like hornets attacking a bear. They fired their machine guns, and the Germans replied in kind, but with more terrible effect, for two of the Allied planes were shot down. It was a sad loss, but it was the fortune of war, or, rather, misfortune, for the Zeppelin was not engaged in a fair fight, but seeking to bomb an unfortified city.

Now Tom and Jack, though somewhat separated, were close above the Zeppelin, and in a position where they could not be fired at. They began to drop incendiary bombs through the tubes between their knees.

These bombs were fitted with sharp hooks, so that if they touched the gas bag they would cling fast, and bum until they bad ignited the envelope and the vapor inside. And as they circled about, dropping bomb after bomb, the two air service boys saw this happen. Some at least of their bombs reached their target.

The great craft, now on fire in several places, was twisting and turning like some wounded snake, endeavoring to escape. Tom glanced toward the other Zeppelin and saw that this was fairly well surrounded by aeroplanes, but was not, as yet, on fire.

The bees had fatally stung one great German bear, and, a little later, it crashed to the ground where it was nearly all consumed, and of its crew of thirty men, not one was left alive.

The other plane, though greatly damaged by machine gun fire, was not set ablaze, but was forced to turn and sail for the German lines again. So that two were prevented from bombing Paris.

Well satisfied with what they had accomplished, Torn, Jack and the others who had set the Zeppelin on fire, descended. Later they learned, by word from Paris, that on of the German machines was shot down over that city and some of its crew captured. So that though the Huns did considerable damage with their bombs, they paid dearly for that unlawful expedition.

This was the beginning of a series of fierce aerial battles between the German forces and the Allied airmen, though for a long dine no more Zeppelins were seen. Sometimes fortune favored the side on which Tom and Jack fought, and again they were forced to retire, leaving some of their friends in the hands of the enemy.

Once Tom and Tack, keeping close together doing scout work, were cut off from their companions. They had ventured too far over the Hun lines, and were in danger of being shot down. But a squadron of airmen from Pershing's forces made a sortie and drove the Germans to cover, rescuing the two air service boys from an evil fate.

Then followed some weeks of rainy and misty weather, during which there was very little air work on either side. But the fight on land went on, with attacks and repulses, the Allies continually advancing their lines, though ever so little. Slowly but surely they were forcing the Germans back.

Now and then there were night raids, and once Tom and Jack, who had not flown for a week because of rain, were just back of the lines when a captured German patrol was brought in, covered with mud and blood. There had been lively fighting.

"I wish we were in on that!" exclaimed Tom. "I'm getting tired of sitting around."'

"So am I!" agreed Jack. "Let's ask if we can't go out on patrol some night. It will be better than waiting for it to stop raining."

To their delight their request was granted, as it had been in a number of other cases of airmen. Temporarily they were allowed to go with the infantry until the weather cleared.

The two air service boys were in the dugout one night, having served their turns at listening post work and general scouting, when an officer came in with a slip of paper. He began reading off some names, and when he had finished, having mentioned Tom and Jack, he said:

"Prepare for patrol duty at once."

"Good!" whispered Tom to his chum: "Now there'll be something doing."

He little guessed what it was to be.

XX. CAPTURED

Silently, in the darkness of their trenches, the party of which Tom and Jack were to be members, prepared to go over the top and penetrate the German front line of defense, in the hope of taking prisoners that information might be had of them. It was a risky undertaking, but one frequently accomplished by the Allies, and it often led to big results.

There were about a score in the patrol, and, to their delight, though they rather regretted it later, Tom and Jack were given positions well in front, two files removed, in fact, from the lieutenant commanding.

"Now I suppose you all understand what you're to do," said the lieutenant as he gathered his little party about him in one of the larger dugouts, where a flickering candle gave light. "You'll all provide yourselves with wire cutters, hand grenades and pistols. Rifles will be in the way. Take your gas masks, of course. No telling when Fritz may send over some of those shells. Blacken your faces, as usual. A star shell makes a beautiful light on a white countenance, so don't be afraid of smudging yourselves. And when we start just try to imagine you are Indians, and make no noise. One object is to come in contact with some German post, try to hear what's going on from their talk, and make some captures if we can. Do you all understand German?"

It developed that they did—at least no one would confess he did not for fear of being turned back. But, as it developed, they all had some, if slight, acquaintance with the language.

A little period of anxious waiting followed—a sort of zero hour effect—until finally the word was received from some source, unknown to Tom and Jack, to proceed. The night was black, and there was a mist over everything which did not augur for clear weather on the morrow.

"Forward!" whispered the lieutenant, for they were so near the German lines that incautious talking was prohibited. Out of their trenches they went, Tom and Jack well in front, and close to the leader.

As carefully as might be, though, at that, making noise which the members of the patrol thought surely must be heard clear to Berlin, they made their way over the shell-torn and uncertain ground in the darkness. They went down between their own lines of barbed wire to where an opening had been made opposite what was considered a quiet spot in the Hun defenses, and then they started across "No Man's Land."

It was not without mingled feelings that Tom and Jack advanced, and, doubtless, their feelings were common to all. There was great uncertainty as to the outcome. Death or glory might await them. They might all be killed by a single German shell, or they might run into a German working party, out to repair the wire cut during the day's firing. In the latter case there would be a fight—an even chance, perhaps. They might capture or be captured.

On and on they went, treading close together and in single file, making little noise. Straight across the desolate stretch of land that lay between the two lines of trenches they went, and, when half way, there came from the German side a sudden burst of star shells. These are a sort of war fireworks that make a brilliant illumination, and the enemy was in the habit of sending them up every night at intervals, to reveal to his gunners any party of the enemy approaching.

"Down! Down!" hissed the lieutenant. But he need not have uttered the command. All had been told what to do, and fell on their faces literally—their smoke-blackened faces. In this position they resembled, as nearly as might be, some of the dead bodies scattered about, and that was their intention.

Still each one had a nervous fear. The star shells were very brilliant and made No Man's Land almost as bright as when bathed in sunshine, a condition that had not prevailed of late. There was no guarantee that the Germans would not, in their suspicious hate, turn their rifles or machine guns on what they supposed were dead bodies. In that case-well, Tom, Jack and the others did not like to think about it.

But the brilliance of the star shells died away, and once more there was darkness. The lieutenant cautiously raised his head and in a whisper commanded:

"Forward! Is every one all right?"

"My mouth's full of mud and water—otherwise I'm all right," said some one.

"Silence!" commanded the officer.

Once more he led them forward. They reached the first German wire, and instantly the cutters were at work. Though the men tried to make no noise, it was an impossibility. The wire would send forth metallic janglings and tangs as it was cut. But an opening was made, and the patrol party filed through. And then, almost immediately, something happened.

There was another burst of star shells, but before the Americans had an opportunity to throw themselves on their faces, they saw that they were confronted by a large body of Germans who had come forward as silently as themselves, and, doubtless, on the same sort of errand.

"At 'em, boys! At 'em!" cried the lieutenant. "The Stars and Stripes! At 'em!"

Instantly pandemonium broke loose. In the glaring light of the star shells the two forces rushed forward. There was a burst of pistol fire, and then the fight went on in the darkness.

"Where are you, Tom?"' yelled Jack, as he flung a grenade full at a big, burly German who was rushing at him with uplifted gun.

"Here!" was the answer, and in the darkness Jack felt his chum collide with him so forcefully that both almost went down in a heap. "I jumped to get away from a Hun bayonet," pantingly explained Tom.

Jack's grenade exploded, blowing dirt and small stones in the faces of the chums. There were shouts and cries, in English, French and German. The American lieutenant tried to rally his men around him, but, as was afterward learned, they were attacked by a much larger party of Huns than their patrol.

"We must stick together!" cried Jack to Tom. "If we separate we're lost! Where are the others?"

"Sam Zalbert was with me a second ago," answered Tom, naming a lad with whom he and Jack had become quite friendly. "But I saw him fall. I don't know whether he slipped or was hurt. Look out!" he suddenly shouted.

He saw two Germans rushing at him and Jack, with leveled revolvers. There was no time to get another grenade from their pockets, and Tom did the next best thing. He made a tackle, football fashion, at the legs of the Germans, which he could see very plainly in the light of many star shells that were now being sent up.

Almost at the same instant Jack, seeing his chum's intention, followed his example, and the two Huns went down in a heap, falling over the heads of their antagonists with many a German imprecation. Their weapons flew from their hands.

"Come on! This is getting too hot for us!" cried Jack, as he scrambled to his feet, followed by Tom. "There'll be a barrage here in a minute."

This seemed about to happen, for machine guns were spitting fire and death all along that section of the German front, and the American and French forces were replying. A general engagement might be precipitated at any moment.

The American lieutenant tried to rally his men, but it was a hopeless task. The Germans had overpowered them. Tom and Jack started to run back toward their own lines, having made sure, however, of putting beyond the power to fight any more the two Germans who had attacked them.

"Come on!" cried Tom. "We've got to have reinforcements to tackle this bunch!"

"I guess so!" agreed Jack.

They turned, not to retreat, but to better their positions, when they both ran full into a body of men that seemed to spring up from the very ground in the sudden darkness that followed an unusually bright burst of star shells.

"What is it? Who are they? What's the matter?" cried Tom.

"Give it up!" answered Jack. "Who are you?" he asked.

Instantly a guttural German voice cried:

"Ah! The American swine! We have them!"

In another moment Tom and Jack felt themselves surrounded by an overpowering number.

Hands plucked at them toughly from all sides, and their pistols and few remaining grenades were taken from them.

"Turn back with the prisoners!" cried a voice in German.

The two air service boys found themselves being fairly-lifted from their feet by the rush of their captors. Where they were going they could not see, but they knew what had happened.

They had been captured by the Germans!

XXI. THE CLEW

For one wild instant Tom and Jack, as they admitted to one another afterward, felt an insane desire to attempt to break away from their captors, to rush at them, to attack if need be with their bare hands, and so invite death in its quickest form. They even hoped that they might escape this way rather than live to be taken behind the German lines.

It was not only the disgrace of being captured—which really was no disgrace considering the overwhelming numbers that attacked them—t it was the fear of what they might have to suffer as prisoners.

Tom and Jack, as well as the others, might well regard with horror the fate that lay before them. But to escape by even a desperate struggle was out of the question. They were surrounded by a ring of Germans, several files deep, and each was heavily armed. Then, too, their captors were fairly rushing them along over the uneven ground as though fearful of pursuit. The air service boys had no chance, nor did any of their comrades of the patrol who might be left alive. How many these were, Tom and Jack had no means of knowing. They did not see any of their comrades near them. There were only the Huns who were bubbling over with coarse joy in the delight of having captured two "American pigs," as they brutally boasted.

Stumbling and half falling, Tom and Jack were dragged along. Now and then they could see, by means of the star shells, groups of men, some near and some farther off. There was firing all along the Hun and Allied lines, and as the boys were dragged along the big guns began to thunder. What had started as an ordinary night raid might end in a general engagement before it was finished.

There seemed to be fierce lighting going on between the several detached groups, and the air service boys did not doubt that some word of the dispersing and virtual defeat of the party they were with had reached their lines, resulting in the sending out of relief parties.

"This sure is tough luck!" murmured Jack to Tom, as they stumbled along in the midst of their captors.

"You said it! If our boys would only rush this bunch and get us away."

"Silence, pigs!" cried a German officer, and with his sword he struck at Tom, slightly injuring the lad and causing a hot wave of fierce resentment.

"You wouldn't dare do that if I had my hands free, you dirty dog!" rasped out Tom in fairly good German, and he tugged to free his arms from the hold of a Hun soldier on either side.

The officer who had struck Tom seemed about to reply, for he surged through the ranks of his men over toward the captive, but a command from some one, evidently higher in authority halted him, and he marched on, muttering.

There was sharp fighting between the Hun sentries and small parties, and similar bodies from the American and Allied sides going on along the lines now, and both armies were sending up rockets and other illuminating devices.

The two Virginia lads felt themselves being hurried forward—or back, whichever way you choose to look at it—and whither they were being taken they did not know. The taunts of their captors had ceased, though the men were talking together in low voices, and suddenly, at something one of them said, Tom nudged Jack, beside whom he was walking.

"Did you hear that?" he asked in so low a voice that it was not heard by the Hun next him. Or if it was heard, no attention was paid to it, for Torn spoke in English. The tramp of the heavy boots of the Huns and the rattle of their arms and accoutrements made noise enough, perhaps, to cover the sound of his voice.

"Did I hear what?" asked Jack.

"What that chap said. It was something about one of the German prison camps having been burned by the prisoners, a lot of whom got away. The rest were transferred to a place not far from here. Listen!"

And the Americans listened to the extent of their ability.

Then it was they blessed their lucky stars that they understood enough of German to know what was being said, for it was then and there that they got a clew to the whereabouts of Harry Leroy, from whom they had heard not a word since the dropping of his glove by the German aviator. They did not even know whether or not their packages had reached their chum.

The talk of the Germans who had captured Tom and Jack was, indeed, concerning the burning of one of the prison camps. As the boys learned later, the prisoners, unable to stand the terrible treatment, had risen and set fire to the place. Many of them perished in the blaze and by the fire of German rifles. The others were transferred to a camp nearer the battle line as a punishment, it being argued, perhaps, that they might be killed by the fire of the guns of their own side.

"And there are some airmen, too, in the new prison camp," said one of the Germans. "Our infantrymen claimed them as their meat, though our airmen brought them down. But there was no room for them in the prison camp with the other captured aviators, so The Butcher has them in his charge."

Tom and Jack learned later that "The Butcher" was the title bestowed, even by his own men, on a certain brutal German colonel who had charge of this prison camp.

Then there came to Tom and Jack in the darkness a curious piece of information, dropped by casual talk of the Huns. One of them said to another:

"One of the transferred airmen tried to bribe me to-day."

"To bribe you? How and for what?"

"He is an accursed American pig, and when he heard we were opposite some of them, he wanted me to throw a note from him over into the American lines. He said I would be well paid, and he offered me a piece of gold he had hidden in the sole of his shoe."

"Did you take it?"

"The gold? Of course I did! But I tore up the note he gave me to toss into the American lines. First I looked at it, though. It was signed with a French name, though the prisoner claimed to be from the United States. It was the name Leroy which means, I have been told, the king. Ha! I have his gold, and the note is scattered over No Man's Land! But I will tell him I sent it into the trenches of his friends. He may have more notes and gold!" and the brute chuckled.

Tom and Jack, looked at one another in the darkness. Could it be possible that it was their friend Harry Leroy who was so near to them, since he had been transferred from a camp far behind the lines?

It seemed so. There were not many American airmen captured, and there could hardly be two of this same rather odd name.

"It must be Harry," murmured Tom.

"I think so," agreed Jack.

"Silence, American pigs!" commanded man officer.

He raised his sword to strike the lad. But just then occurred an interruption so tremendous that all thought of punishing prisoners who dared to speak was forgotten.

A big shell rose screaming and moaning from the Allied lines and landed not far from the party of Germans which was leading along Tom and Jack. It burst with a tremendous noise well inside the Hug defenses, and this was followed by a terrific explosion. As the boys learned later the shell had landed in the midst of a concealed battery—a stroke of luck, and not due to any good aiming on the part of the American gunner—and the supply of ammunition had gone up.

There was great commotion behind the German lines, and two or three of Tom's and Jack's captors were thrown down by the concussion. The air service boys themselves were stunned.

And then there suddenly sounded a ringing American cheer, while a voice, coming from a group of soldiers that confronted the German patrol, cried:

"Halt! Who's there? Are there any of Uncle Sam's boys?"

"Yes! Yes!" eagerly cried Tom and Jack. "Come on! We're captured by the Germans!"

There was another cheer, followed by a roar of rage, and then came a rush of feet. Gleaming bayonets glistened in the light of star shells and many guns, and the members of the German patrol, finding themselves surrounded, threw down their arms and cried:

"Kamerad!"

The fortunes of war had unexpectedly turned, and Tom and Jack had been rescued and saved by a party of Pershing's gallant boys.

XXII. NELLIE'S RESOLVE

"What happened?"

"How'd they get you?"

"Are you hurt?"

These were a few of the questions put to Tom and Jack as they were surrounded by the rescuing party of their friends, led, it afterward developed, by the very lieutenant with whom the two air service boys had started in the patrol across No Man's Land.

The German captors had either all surrendered or been killed, and the tables were most effectively switched around. At first Tom and Jack were too surprised and overwhelmingly grateful to answer.

But they soon understood what had happened. And then they told the story of their fight against odds until captured. They said nothing just then of the unexpected information that had come to them about Harry Leroy's presence in a German camp so comparatively near their own lines. But they resolved, at the first opportunity, to make use of the information.

The shooting of the big guns gradually ceased when it was made manifest that neither side was ready for a general engagement. The pop-pop of the machine weapons, too, died away and the star shells ceased rising.

"Come on you Fritzies—what's left of you," cried the lieutenant, when he had made sure that there were no others of his party whom he could rescue.

Then with Tom and Jack the center of a happy, tumultuous throng of their own comrades, the trip back to the American lines was begun. It was without incident save that on the way a wounded British soldier was found lying in a shell hole and carried in, ultimately to recover.

Tom and Jack told what had happened to them, how they had been surrounded and led away; and then, came the story of the lieutenant who had led the patrol party which had turned defeat into victory with the aid of reinforcements which were sent to him.

He had seen his hopes blasted when rushed by the big crowd of the Hun patrol, and, though slightly wounded, he realized that absolute defeat would come to him and his men unless he could get help. He sent a runner back with word to send relief, and then, surrounding himself with what few men remained alive and uncaptured, the fight went on.

It was bitter and sanguinary, and at last, with only two men left beside him, the lieutenant heard the rush of the relief guard. He was placed in charge, as he knew the lay of the land, and the party hurried to and fro, wiping up little knots of Germans here and there, until the main body encountered the squad having in charge the two air service boys.

"You began to think it was all up with you, didn't you?" asked the lieutenant, when they were all once more safely in the dugout.

"We certainly did!" admitted Tom.

"We had visions of watery soup and wheatless bread for the rest of the war," observed Jack.

He and Tom were slightly wounded—mere scratches they dubbed the hurts—but they were sent to the rear to be looked over and bandaged, as were some of the others who were more severely hurt. There were some who could not be sent back—who were left in No Man's Land silent figures who would never take part in a battle again. They had paid their price toward making the world a better place to live in, and their names were on the Honor Roll.

"Well, what do you think about it?" asked Tom of Jack.

"I don't know what to think. It seems hardly possible that Harry can be so near to us, and yet we can't do a thing to help him."

"I'm not so sure about that," returned Tom. "That's what I want to talk about."

It was a week after the patrol raid, and clear weather had succeeded the rain and mist, so that it was possible for the aeroplanes to operate. And their services were much needed.

There were preparations going on back of the German lines of which General Pershing and the Allied commanders needed to be informed. And only the "eyes" of the armies could see them and report—the eyes being the aeroplanes.

So it came about that, having been relieved of their temporary transfer to the infantry, Tom and Jack were once more with their comrades of the air.

"Well, let's think it over, and talk about it when we come down," suggested Jack. "We've got to go upstairs for our usual tour of duty now."

This would last three hours. They were to do scout work—report any unusual activity back of the German lines, or give warning of the approach of any hostile aeroplanes. After their tour of duty was ended they would have the rest of the day to themselves, provided there was no general attack. Of course if, while they were up, they were attacked, they must fight.

Each lad had a plane to himself, since the young "huns" had all pretty well passed their novitiate, and were now in the regular flying squad. Later some other new aviators would report for instruction on the battle front.

Up and up climbed Tom and Jack, and eagerly they scanned the German lines for any signs of activity. But though there were some Hun planes in the air, they did not approach to give battle. Possibly some other plans were afoot. Afterward Tom and Jack admitted to one another that there was a great temptation to fly over the German trenches to try to get a sight of the prison that had been spoken of—the camp where Harry Leroy might be held.

But to do this would be in direct violation of their orders, and they dared not take any risks. For to do so might involve not only themselves in danger, but others as well. And that view of the matter determined them. They would have to await their opportunity for rescuing their chum—if it could be accomplished.

Their tour of duty aloft that day was without incident. This is not an usual condition at times along the long battle front. Men can not go on fighting without stop, and there come lulls in even the fiercest battle. Flesh and blood can stand only a certain amount of torture, and then even the soul rebels.

So Tom and Jack drifted peacefully down to their aerodrome, noting that it was being newly camouflaged, for the recent rain had played havoc with some of the concealments.

As far as possible both the Germans and the Allies tried to conceal the location of their flying camps. The aeroplanes and balloons needed large buildings to house them, and such structures made excellent and, of course, fair war-marks for bombing parties in aeroplanes hovering aloft. So it was the custom to put up trees and bushes or to stretch canvas over the aerodromes and paint it to resemble woods and fields in an effort to conceal, or camouflage, the depots where the airships were stationed. But this work was done by a special detail of men, and with it Tom and Jack had nothing to do.

They turned their machines over to the mechanics, who would go carefully over them and have the craft in readiness for the next flight. Then, being free for several hours, the two young airmen could do as they pleased, within certain limits.

"Well, did anything occur to you?" asked Jack, as he and Tom, having divested themselves of their heavy fur-lined garments, went to the mess hall, which was in an old stable, from which the horses had long since been removed.

"You mean a plan to rescue Harry?"

"That's it."

"No, I'm sorry to say I can't think of a thing," Tom answered. "I thought I would, but I didn't. Have you anything to say?"

"Yes. Let's go to Paris."

"You mean to see—er—?"

"Yes!" interrupted Jack with a smile. "This is their day off, and we might as well have a little enjoyment when we can. From the easy time we had to-day we'll have some hard fighting to-morrow. This was too good to last. Heinie is up to some mischief, I think."

"Same here."

So, having received permission, they went to Paris, and soon found their way to the lodgings of Mrs. Gleason, where the air service boys were welcomed by Bessie and Nellie.

Of course the first question had to do with the captive Harry, and to the delight of Nellie Tom was able to say:

"We have news of him, anyhow."

"News? You mean he is all right?"

"Well, as all right as he ever can be while the Boches have him, I suppose," was the answer.

"But the news didn't come direct from him. He's in another camp. I'll tell you about it."

Tom and Jack, by turns, related what had happened on the night patrol, and explained how they had overheard talk of Harry.

"Then he is nearer than he has been?" asked Nellie.

"Yes," admitted Tom.

"Won't it be easier to rescue him then?" Bessie queried.

"Well, that doesn't follow," said Jack. "Of course if we could rescue him, we'd have a shorter distance to bring him, to get him inside our lines. But it's just as difficult getting beyond the German lines now as it was before. Tom and I thought we'd come and talk it over, and see if you girls have anything to suggest. We'll do the rescue work if we only get a chance, and can find some plan. Have you any?"

He asked that question, though he hardly expected an answer. And both he and Tom, as well as Bessie and her mother, were greatly surprised when Nellie exclaimed:

"Yes, I have!"

"You have?" cried Tom. "What is it? Tell us, quick!"

"I am going to save my brother by offering myself as a prisoner in his place," said Nellie with quiet resolve. "That's how I'll save him! I'll exchange myself for him!"

XXIII. THE BIG BATTLE

Nellie Leroy rose from, the chair where she had been sitting, and stood before the little party of her friends, gathered in the little Paris apartment where Bessie Gleason and her mother made their home when they were not actively engaged in Red Cross work. The sister of the captive airman had a quiet but very determined air about her.

"That is what I am going to do," she said, as no one at first answered what had been a dramatic outbreak. "Perhaps you will tell me best how to go about it," and she turned to Tom and Jack. "You know something of the German lines, and where I can best go to give myself up."

"Why—why, you can't go at all!" burst out Tom.

"I can't go?"

"No, of course not. You mean all right, Nellie," went on the young man, "but it simply can't be done. To give yourself up to the Germans would mean for yourself not only—Oh, it couldn't be done!" as he thought of the cruelty of the Huns, not only to the soldiers of the Allied armies but to helpless women and children. "You couldn't give yourself up to those brutes!' he cried.

"To save my brother I could," said Nellie simply. "I would do anything for him!"

"I know you would," murmured Bessie.

"But it would just be throwing yourself away!" exclaimed Jack, coming to the help of his chum, who was gazing helplessly at him in this new crisis. "Tell her, Mrs. Gleason," he went on, "that it is utterly impossible, even if the army authorities would let her. Even if she should give herself up to the Germans, they wouldn't keep any agreement they made to exchange her brother. They'd simply keep both of them."

"Yes, I think they would," said Mrs. Gleason. "It is out of the question, my dear," and gently she laid her hand on the girl's shoulder. "That is very fine and noble of you, but it would be wrong, for it would not save your brother, and you would certainly be made a prisoner yourself. And of the horrors of the German prison—at least some where the infantrymen have been kept, I dare not tell you. I imagine it must be better where the airmen are captured," she went on, for she feared that if she painted too black a picture of what Harry might suffer his sister would not be held back by anything, and might sacrifice herself uselessly.

"But what am I do?" asked Nellie, helplessly. "I want Harry so much! We all want him! Oh, isn't there something? Can't you save him?" and she held out her hands appealingly to Torn and Jack.

There was a moment of silence, and then Tom burst out with:

"Well, I may as well speak now as later, and I'll tell you what I've made up my mind to do. Yes, it's a new plan I've worked out," he went on, as Jack looked at him curiously. "I haven't told even you, old man, as it wasn't quite ready yet. But it's a scheme that may succeed, now that we know definitely where Harry is, from what the German patrol said. He isn't so far away as when we dropped the packages in the prison camp, though we don't yet know that he was there at the time we did our stunt. However, if this new plan succeeds we may have a chance to find out."

"How?" asked Nellie, eagerly.

"By talking to Harry himself."

"How are you going to do that?" demanded Bessie.

"What kind of game have you been cooking up behind my back?" asked Jack.

"As desperate as the other, I guess you'll call it," answered Tom. "But something has to be done."

"Yes, something has to be done," agreed Jack. "Now what is it?"

Tom arose and went to the door. He opened it, looked carefully up and down the hall, evidently to make sure no one was listening, and then came back to join the circle of his friends.

"I'm going to speak of something that very few know, as yet," he said, "and I don't want to take any chances of its getting out. There may be German spies in Paris, though I guess by this time they're few and scattering.

"I'm not going to tell you how I know," he said, "but I do know that soon there is to take place a big battle—that is, it will be big for the American forces that are to have part in it. There has been a conference among the Allied commanders, and it has been decided that it's time to teach the Germans a lesson. They've been despising the American troops, as they despised General French's 'contemptible little army,' and General Pershing is going to show Fritz that we have a soldier or two that can fight."

"You mean there's to be a big offensive?" asked Jack.

"No, I wouldn't go so far as to call it a general engagement like that. It's to be kept within the limits, of the sector where the United States troops are at present," said Tom. "That is where you and I are located, Jack, and that, as you know, is almost opposite the prison where Harry and the others are confined."

"I begin to see what you are driving at!" cried Nellie, her eyes shining. "But are you sure of this?"

"Yes," went on Jack, "how did you bear of this when it's supposed to be such a secret?"

"It came to me by accident," said Torn, "and I wouldn't speak of it to any one but you. Soon, however, it will be more or less public on our side, as it will have to be when we start to get ready. But it's to be kept a secret from Fritz as long as possible. It's to be a surprise attack, and if it doesn't develop into a big battle it won't be the fault of Uncle Sam's boys."

"Will the air service have any part in it?" asked Jack eagerly, as if fearing he might be left out.

"I don't see how they can get along without us," said Tom. "Not that we're the whole works, but it is well established now that an army can't fight without the use of aeroplanes, to tell not only what the other side is doing, but also how our own guns are shooting. Oh, we'll be in it all right!"

"When?" asked Jack.

"That I can't say," replied his chum. "But now to get down to the thing that concerns us, or rather, Harry. I have a scheme—and you can call it wild if you like—that when the battle is going on, you and I, Jack, and some other airmen if we can induce them to do it, and I think we can, may be able to drop bombs near the prison camp. We'll have to judge our distances pretty carefully, or we'll do more harm than good. Then, if all goes well, and we can blow down some of the camp walls or fences, and if the battle favors our side, we can make a descent on enemy territory and rescue Harry and any others that are with him. What do you think of that plan?"

"It's wonderful!" exclaimed Nellie, glaring at Tom with a strange, new light in her eyes.

"It's very daring," said Bessie, more calmly.

"It's crazy!" burst out Jack

"I thought you'd say that," commented Tom calmly, "and I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't. And just because it is crazy it may succeed. But it's the only thing I can think of. Daring will get you further in this war then anything else. You've got to take big chances anyhow, and the bigger the better, I say."

"I'm with you there all right," agreed Jack. "But to land in hostile territory—it hasn't been done ten times since the war began, and have the aviator live to get away with it!"

"I know it," said Tom, quietly. "But this may be the eleventh successful time. Now that's my plan for rescuing Harry Leroy. If any of you have a better one let's hear it."

No one answered, and finally Nellie spoke.

"No," she said, with a shake of her head, "it's very fine and noble of you boys, but I can't allow it. If you wouldn't let me give myself up—exchange myself for Harry, I can't let you give your lives for him this way. It wouldn't be fair. It would be depriving the Allies of two valuable fighters, to possibly get back one, and the possibility is so slim that—well, it's suicidal!" she exclaimed.

"Not so much so as you think," said Tom. "I've got it all figured out as far as possible. And as for landing in hostile territory, if all goes well, and the big battle progresses as Pershing and his aides think it will, maybe we won't have to land in hostile territory at all. We may drive the Germans back, and then the prison will be within our lines."

"That's so!" cried Jack. "I didn't think of feat. Tom, old man, maybe your scheme isn't as crazy as I thought! Anyhow, I'm in it with you. The only thing is—will this big battle take place?"

"'It will unless the Germans decide to surrender between now and the day set," Tom answered grimly, "and I hardly believe they'll do that. It's a going to be some fight!"

"Glad of it!" cried Jack. "Now we've got something to live for!" As if he and Tom did not risk their lives every day to make life in the civilized world something worth living for.

"Well, we must be getting back!" exclaimed Tom, as he looked at his watch. "All leaves will be stopped in a few days—just before we start preparations for the big battle. If we can we'll see you once more before then."

"And afterward?" inquired Nellie, softly and pleadingly.

"Yes, and afterward, too!" exclaimed Tom. "And we'll bring Harry back with us. Now good-bye!"

It was a more solemn farewell than the friends had taken in some time, for all felt the impending events, and Tom and Jack talked but little during the return trip from Paris to their headquarters.

What Tom had said about the big battle was strictly true. It had been decided in high quarters that it was time the newly arrived American soldiers showed what they could do. That they could fight fiercely and well was not a question, it was only a matter of getting them familiar with the different conditions to be met with on the European battlefields, against a ruthless foe.

Tom and Jack had a chance for one more hasty, flying visit to Paris, and then all leave was withdrawn, and there began in and about the American camp such a period of tense and intensive work as bore out what Tom had said. The big battle was impending.

Great stores were accumulated of rations and munitions. Great guns were brought up into position and skillfully camouflaged. Machine guns in great numbers were prepared and a number of aeroplanes were brought from other sectors and made ready for the flying fight.

"How are your plans coming on?" asked Jack of Tom, at the close of a day when it seemed that every one's nerves were on edge from the strain of preparing.

"All right," was the answer. "I've spoken to a number of the boys, and they're with me. You know we're pretty much 'on our own,' when we're flying, and I think that we can drop the bombs and make a descent long enough to pick up Harry and other refugees if we break open the prison."

"But suppose we land, stall the engines and the Germans surround us?"

"That mustn't happen," said Tom. "We won't stall the engines for one thing. We'll just have to drop down, and taxi around as well as we can until we pick up Harry, or until he sees us. The machines will carry three as well as two, and even if we have, by some mischance to go up in singles, they'll carry double. But I figured on your being with me. Harry knows enough of the game to be on the lookout when he hears the bombs drop and sees the planes hovering over him, and he'll tip off the others to be ready for a rescue.

"Of course I don't say we can get 'em all, and maybe something will happen that we can't get Harry away. But I think we'll teach Fritz a lesson, and I think we can break up the prison camp so some of the poor fellows can get away. As I said, it's a desperate chance, but one we've got to take."

"And I'm with you!" exclaimed Jack. "And now when does the big battle take place?"

He was answered a moment later, for an orderly arrived with instructions to the air service boys to report at their hangars at once.

There they were told something of the impending attack—the first public mention of it, though more than one had guessed something unusual was in the air from the tenseness of the last few days.

The attack was to start at dawn the next morning, preceded by an intense artillery fire. It was to be the fiercest rain of shells since the Americans had come to the front lines. Then the infantry, supported by tanks and aeroplanes, would follow, going over in waves which it was hoped would overwhelm the Germans.

That night was a tense one. Suppose the enemy had guessed, or a spy had given word of the impending battle? Then success would be jeopardized. But the night passed with only the usual exchange of shots and the sending up of star shells over No Man's Land.

And so, as the hour of dawn approached, the tense and nervous feeling grew. Tom and Jack, with their comrades in their hangars, were dressed in their fur garments and ready. Their machines had received the last touches from the hands of the mechanics, and each one was well equipped with bombs and machine gun ammunition. Tom and Jack were to be allowed to go up together in a big double bombing plane.

The night passed. The hour approached. Anxious eyes watched the hands of watches slowly revolve.

Then suddenly, as if the very earth had been blasted away from beneath them, the batteries of big guns belched forth fire, smoke and shell.

The great battle was on!

XXIV. SILENCING THE GERMAN GUNS

Engagements in the World War were on such a vast scale that it was difficult for a single observer to give a word picture of them. All he could see, stationed behind the lines, was a vast cataclysm of smoke and fire, and his ears were deafened by so vast a sound that it was comparable to nothing on this earth ever heard before.

An observer in the air was little better off, save for that portion directly beneath him, and even that he could not see very much of, on account of the smoke and dust. If he looked to the left or the right, or backward or forward, he was at the disadvantage of distance.

To him, then, great columns of infantry appeared only as crawling worms, and batteries of artillery merely patches of woods whence belched fire and smoke. That he must keep high in the air when over the enemy's lines went without saying, for he would be fired at if he came too low. So then, even an airman's vision was limited when it came to describing a great battle.

Of course he always did what he was assigned to do. He kept in contact, or in communication, with his own certain batteries, or his infantry division, directing the shots of the former and the advance of the latter. So, really, he had little time to observe anything save the effect of the firing of his own side on a certain limited objective.

As for the soldiers in battle, they are, of course, unable to observe anything except that which goes on immediately in their neighborhood. The artilleryman fires his gun under the direction of some observer, often far away, who telephones to him to lower or elevate his piece, or deflect it to the tight or left. The infantryman advances as the barrage lifts, and rushes forward according to orders, firing or using his bayonet as the case may be, digging in when halted, and waiting for another rush forward. The machine gunner and his squad aim to put as many of the advancing, retreating, or standing enemy out of the fighting as possible, and to save themselves.

The truck men hasten up with loads of ammunition, fortunate if they are not sent to their death in the drive. The stretcher bearers look for the wounded and hasten back with them.

So, all in all, no single person can observe more than a very small part of the great battle. It is really like looking through a microscope at some organism, while the whole great body lies beyond the field of vision.

Only the general staff-the officers in their headquarters far behind the lines, who receive reports as to how this division or corps is retreating or advancing—can have any real conception of the big battle, and these persons may see it only at a distance.

So the usual process of things in general is reversed, and the person farthest removed from the fighting may really see, or rather know, most about it.

And so with a storm of shot and shell, manmade thunders and lightnings, and bolts of death from the earth below and the air above, the great battle opened and advanced.

It progressed just as other battles had progressed. There was a terrific artillery preparation, which took the Germans evidently by surprise, for the response was long in coming, and then it was not in proportion. After the great cannon had done their best to level the big guns on the German side, a barrage, or curtain of fire was started, and behind this, which was in reality a falling hail of bullets, the Americans and their supporting French and British comrades advanced. The curtain of steel was to kill or push back the Germans, and to make it safe for the Americans to go forward. By elevating the small guns the curtain fell farther and farther into the enemy's territory, thus making it possible for the Allies to go on farther and farther across No Man's Land.

The infantry rushed forward, fighting and dying nobly in a noble cause. Position after position was consolidated as the Germans fell back before the rain of shot and shell. It is always this way in an offensive, small or large. The first rush of the attacking side, be it German, French, British, or American, carries everything before it. It is the counter attack that tells. If the attackers are strong enough to hold what they gain, well and good. If not—the attack is a failure.

But this one—the first great attack of the Americans—was not destined to fail, though once it trembled in the balance.

Tom and Jack, with their companions, had flown aloft, and, taking the stations assigned to them, did their part in the battle. As the light grew with the break of day, they could see the effect of the American big guns. It was devastating. And yet some German batteries lived through it. Several times Tom and Jack, by means of their wireless, sent back corrections so that the American pieces might be aimed more effectively. Below them was a maelstrom—an indescribable chaos of death and destruction. They only had glimpses of it—glimpses of a seemingly inextricable mixture of men and guns.

And through it all, though they did not for a moment neglect their duty, bearing in mind their instructions to keep in contact with the batteries they served, Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly were eagerly seeking for a sight of the prison where Harry Leroy might be held. At one time after they had dropped bombs on some German positions, thereby demolishing them, Tom, who was acting as pilot, signaled to his chum that he was going far over the enemy's lines to try to locate the prison.

Jack nodded an acquiescence. It was not entirely against orders what they were about to do. They might obtain valuable information, and it would take only a short time, so speedy was their machine. Then too, they had used up all their bombs, and must return for more. Before doing this they wished to make an observation.

Luck was with them. They managed to pass over a comparatively quiet sector of the lines where the German resistance had been wiped out, and where, even as they looked down, Americans were digging in and guns were being brought up to support them.

And not many kilometers inside the German positions from this point, they sailed over a prison camp. They, knew it in an instant, and felt sure it must be the one spoken of by the German who had taken Leroy's gold and then betrayed him.

"That's the place!" cried Tom, though of course Jack could not hear him. "Now to bomb it and set Harry free!"

But they must return for more ammunition, and this they set about doing. They wished they might drop some word to the prisoners confined there, stating that help might soon be on its way to them, but they had no chance to send this cheering word.

Back they rushed to their own lines, and no sooner had they landed than an orderly rushed up to them and instructed them to report immediately to their commanding officer.

"Boys, you're just in time!" he cried, all dignity or formality having been set aside in the excitement of the great battle.

"What is it?" asked Tom.

"We want you to silence some big German guns—a nasty battery of them that's playing havoc with our boys. The artillery hasn't been able to locate 'em—probably they're too well camouflaged. And we can't advance against 'em. Will you go up and try to put them out of business?"

Of course there could be but one answer to this. Tom and Jack hurried off to see to the loading of their machine with bombs—an extra large number of very powerful ones being taken.

Once more they were off on their dangerous mission, for it was dangerous, since many American planes were brought down by German fire that day, and by attacks from other Hun machines.

But Tom and Jack never faltered. Up and up they went, the probable location of the guns having been made known to them on the map they carried. Up and onward they went. For a time they must forego the chance of rescuing their friend.

Straight for the indicated place they went, and just as they reached it there came a burst of fire and smoke. It appeared to roll out from a little ravine well wooded on both sides, and that accounted for the failure of the Americans to locate it. Chance had played into the hands of the air service boys.

There was no need of word between Tom and Jack. The former headed the plane for the place whence the German guns had fired upon the Americans, killing and wounding many.

Over it, for an instant, hovered the aeroplane. Then Jack touched the bomb releasing device. Down dropped the powerful explosive.

There was a great upward blast of air which rocked the machine in which sat the two aviators. There was a burst of smoke and flame beneath them, tongues of fire seeming to reach up as though to pull them down.

Then came a terrific explosion which almost deafened the boys, even though their ears were covered with the fur caps, and though their own engine made a pandemonium of sound.

The air was filled with flying debris—debris of the German guns and men. The bombs dropped by Tom and Jack had accomplished their mission. The harassing battery was destroyed. The German guns were silenced.

XXV. THE RESCUE

Tom and Jack circled around slowly over the place where the German battery had been. It was now no more—it could work no more havoc to the American ranks. It did not need the wireless news to this effect, which the aviators sent back, to apprise the Allies of what had happened. They had seen the harassing guns blown up.

Now out swarmed the Americans, charging with savage yells over the place that had been such a hindrance to their advance. Tom and Jack had done their work well.

There was no need for the one to tell the other what was in his mind. There were still two of the powerful bombs left, and there was but one thought on this matter. They must be used to blow up, if possible, the camp near the German prison. Doing that would create havoc and consternation enough, the air service boys thought, to drive the captors away, and enable Leroy and his fellow prisoners to be saved.

Jack punched Tom in the back and motioned for him to shut off the motor a moment so that talking would be possible. Tom did this, and Jack cried:

"Shall we take a chance?"

"Yes!" Tom answered in return.

Strictly speaking, having accomplished the mission they were sent out on, they should have returned to their base for orders. But the airmen were given more liberty of action and decision than any other branch of the Allied service.

"Go to it!" cried Jack, and once more Tom started the motor and headed the craft for the Hun prison.

Again the air service boys were hovering over the prison camp. They could now see that there was much more activity around it than there had been before the big battery was destroyed. The fight was coming closer, and the Germans evidently knew it. Whether they were trying to arrange to take their captives farther back, or merely seeking to escape themselves from a trap, was not then evident.

And, having reached a position where they could see below them what looked to be a concentration of German guns, perhaps to fire on any force that might advance against the prison. Jack let fall one of his two remaining bombs.

It swerved to one side, and though it exploded with great force, and created havoc and consternation among the Huns, it did not fall where it was intended. The second battery was still intact.

"My last shot!" grimly mused Jack, as he looked at the other bomb.

Tom maneuvered the aeroplane until he had it about where he thought Jack would want it. The latter pressed the releasing lever and the bomb descended. It was the most powerful of the lot, and when it struck and exploded it not only demolished the defensive battery, making a hole in the place where it had stood, but it tore down part of the prison fence, and made such destruction generally that the Germans were stunned.

Instantly, seeing that all had been accomplished that was possible, and noting that hovering around him were other Allied airmen who had agreed to help in the rescue, Tom sent his craft down. There was a burst of shrapnel around him and Jack, but though the latter was grazed by a bullet, neither was seriously hurt. A Hun plane darted down out of the sky to attack the bold Americans, but quickly it was engaged by a supporting Allied craft. However, the Hun was a good fighter, and won the battle against this antagonist. But when two other Allied planes closed in, that was the last of the enemy. He was sent crashing down to satisfy the vengeance in toll for the life of the birdman ho had taken.

Now Tom and Jack could see that their plan had worked better than they had dared to hope. The boldness of the attack from the air, coupled with the advance of the American army, started a panic in the German ranks. They began a retreat and the regiments near the prison camp were included in the rout.

By this time either some of the prisoners saw that there was a break in the cordon around them, or they realized that a great battle was putting their guards to flight, for some of them made a rush toward a side where there were no Germans, and succeeded in breaking out— no hard task since part of the fence was shattered by the explosion.

"Now's our chance," cried Tom, though of course Jack could not hear this. "Harry may be among that bunch, and we want to get him and any others we can save."

He started the aeroplane on its downward path, while Jack, guessing the object, got the machine gun ready for action, since there might be a squad of Germans ready to give battle on the ground.

Several other planes of the Allies, seeing what was going on, swooped to the aid of the two Americans, for there were no other of the Hun craft within sight now. All had been sent crashing down, or had drawn off.

On either side of the immediate sector which included the prison camp, the battle was still raging fiercely, mostly with success on the side of the Americans, though in places they suffered a temporary setback.

In the vicinity of the prison itself wild scenes were now being enacted. The prisoners were beginning to rise in force, for they saw freedom looming before them. There were fights between them and the guards, and terrible happenings took place, for the guards were armed and the prisoners were not. But as fast as some of the Germans fell they were stripped of their guns and ammunition, and the weapons turned by the prisoners against their former captors.

All this while Tom and Jack were descending in their plane. As yet they were uncertain whether they were to be able to rescue Leroy or not. They could not distinguish him at that height, though from the enthusiastic manner in which several of the newly liberated ones waved at the on-coming aeroplanes, it would seem that they were of that arm of the service, and appreciated what was about to happen.

Nearer and nearer to the ground flew Tom and Jack. And then, to their horror, they saw that several Germans had set up two machine guns to rake the prison yard, which was still filled with excited captives. The Germans were determined that as few as possible of their late captives should find freedom.

Tom acted on the instant, by sending the plane in a different direction, to enable Jack to use his machine gun. And Jack understood this, for, with a shout of defiance, he turned his weapon on the closely packed Germans around their machine guns.

For a moment they stood and some even tried to swerve the guns about to shatter the dropping aeroplane. But Jack's fire was too fierce. He wiped out the nest, and this danger was averted.

A moment later Tom had the machine to earth, and it ran along the uneven and shell-torn ground, coming to a rest not far from what had been the outer fence of the prison camp. A group of Allied captives, newly freed, rushed forward. Tom and Jack, removing their goggles, looked eagerly for a sight of Harry Leroy. They did not see him, but they saw that which rejoiced them, and this was more aeroplanes coming to their aid, and also a column of infantry on the march across a distant valley. The stars and stripes were in the van, and at this the rescuers and the prisoners set up a cheer. It meant that the Germans were beaten at that point.

"Where's Harry Leroy? Is he among the prisoners ?" cried Jack to several of the liberated ones who crowded around the machine. There would be no question now of trying to save some one, a rush by mounting to the air with him. The advance of the Americans and the Allies was sufficiently strong to hold the prison position wrested from the Germans.

"Was Harry Leroy among you?" asked Tom, of the joy-crazed prisoners. Many were Americans, but there were French, Italian, Russian, Belgian and British among the motley throng.

Before any one could answer him there was a hoarse shout, and from some place where they had been hiding a squad of German soldiers rushed at the group of recent prisoners about Tom and Jack. Their guns had bayonets fixed, and it was the evident purpose of the Huns to make one last rush on the prisoners near the aeroplane to kill as many as possible.

The Germans were a sufficiently strong force, and none of these prisoners was armed. They began to scatter and run for shelter, and Torn and Jack became aware that matters were not to be as easy as they had expected.

But fortunately the fixed machine gun on the aeroplane, which was near the pilot's seat, pointed straight at the oncoming Huns. With a cry Tom sprang to the cockpit and quickly had the weapon spitting bullets at the foe. Then Jack saw his chance, and, climbing up to his seat, he swung his gun about so that it, too, raked the Germans.

They came on with the desperation and courage of despair, but the steady firing was at last too much for them. They broke and ran—what were left of them alive—in what was a veritable rout, and this ended the last danger for that immediate time and place.

Other aeroplanes dropped down to help consolidate the victory, and the explosion of some American shells at a point beyond the prison camp told its own story. The artillery had moved up to keep pace with the advancing infantry. The big battle had been won by Pershing's men, and the air service boys had not only done their share, but they had been instrumental in delivering a number of prisoners.

As the last of the Germans fled and Tom and Jack leaned back, well nigh exhausted by the strain of the fighting, a voice cried:

"Good work, old scouts! I knew you'd come for me sooner or later. At least I hoped you would!"

They turned to see Harry Leroy walking slowly toward them.

Harry Leroy it was, but wounds, illness, and imprisonment had worked a terrible change in him. He was but the ghost of his former sturdy self. Still it was their chum and the brother of Nellie Leroy, and Tom and Jack knew they had kept the promise made to the sister. They had effected the rescue which the offensive made possible.

"Hurray!" cried Tom. "It's really you then, old scout!"

"What's left of me—yes. Oh, but it's good to see the flag again!" and he pointed to the colors on the aeroplane and on the advancing banners of the infantry. "And it's good to see you again! I'd about given up, and so had most of us, when we heard the shooting and knew something was going on. But how did it happen? How did you get here, and how did you know I was here?"

"Go easy!" advised Tom with a grin. "One question at a time. Can you ride in our bus? If you can we'll take you back with us. The others will be taken care of soon, I fancy, for our boys will soon be in permanent occupation here. Will you come back with us?"

"Will I? Say, I'll come if I have to hitch on behind, like a can to a dog's tail!" cried Leroy, and, weak and ill-nourished as he was, it was evident that the sight of his former comrades had already done him much good.

So now that the position was well won by the Americans and the Allies, Tom and Jack turned their machine about, wheeled it to a good taking off place, and with Harry Leroy as a passenger, though it made the place rather crowded, they flew back over the recent battleground, and to their own aerodrome, where Harry and some other prisoners, brought through the air by other birdmen, were well taken care of.

The great battle was not yet over, for there was fighting up and down the line, and in distant sectors. But it was going well for Pershing's forces.

"And now," remarked Harry, when he had had food and had washed and had begun to smoke, "tell me all about it." He was in the quarters assigned to Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly, being their guest.

"Well, there isn't an awful lot to tell," Tom said, modestly enough. "We heard you were in trouble, and came after you; that's all. How did you like your German boarding house?"

"It was fierce! Terrible! I can't tell you what it means to be free. But I'd like to send word to my folks that I'm all right. I suppose they have heard I was a prisoner."

"Yes," answered Tom. "In fact, you can talk to one of the family soon. That is, as soon as you can go to Paris."

"Talk to a member of the family? Go to Paris? What do you mean?" Harry fairly shouted the words.

"Your sister Nellie is staying with friends of ours," said Tom. "We'll take you to her."

"Nellie here? Great Scott! She said she was coming to the front, but I didn't believe her! Say, she is some sister!"

"You said it!" exclaimed Tom, with as great fervor as Harry used.

"Didn't you get the bundles we dropped?" asked Jack. "The notes and the packages of chocolate?"

"Not a one," 'replied Harry. "I was looking for some word, but none came, after one of the airmen told me he had dropped my glove. But I knew how it was—you didn't get a chance to send any word."

"Oh, but we did!" cried Tom, and then he told of the dropping of the packages.

But, as Leroy related, he had been transferred from that camp a few days before.

Two of the packets fell among the prisoners, who, after trying in vain to send them to Harry, partook of the good things to eat, which they much needed themselves. They were given to the ill prisoners, and the notes were carefully hidden away. Some time after the war Harry received them, and treasured them greatly as souvenirs.

"But we didn't make any mistake this time," said Tom. "We have you now."

"Yes," agreed Harry with a smile, "you have me now, and mighty glad I am of it."

A few days later, when Harry was better able to travel, he went to see Nellie in Paris, a message having been sent soon after the big battle, to tell her that he was rescued and as well as could be expected.

"But if it hadn't been for Tom and Jack I don't believe I'd be there now," said Harry to his sister, as he sat in the homelike apartment of the Gleasons.

"I know you wouldn't," said Nellie. "They said they'd rescue you and they did. We shall never be able to thank them enough—but we can try!"

She looked at Tom, and he—well, I shall firmly but kindly have to insist that what followed is neither your affair nor mine.

And now, though you know it as well as I do, my story has come to an end. At least the present chronicle of the doings of the air service boys has nothing further to offer. Their further adventures will be related in another volume to be entitled: "Air Service Boys Flying for Victory."

But it was not the end of the fighting, and Tom and Jack did not cease their efforts. Harry Leroy, too, was eager to get back into the contest again, and he did, as soon as he had sufficiently recovered.

He told some of his experiences while a prisoner among the Germans, and some things he did not tell. They were better left untold.

However, I should like to close my story with a more pleasant scene than that, and so I invite your attention, one beautiful Sunday morning to Paris, when the sun was shining and war seemed very far away, though it was not. Two couples are going down a street which is gay with flower stands. There are two young men and two girls, the young men wear the aviation uniforms of the Americans. They walk along, chatting and laughing, and, as an aeroplane passes high overhead, its motors droning out a song of progress, they all look up.

"That's what we'll be doing to-morrow," observed Tom Raymond.

"Yes," agreed Jack Parmly.

"Oh, hush!" laughed one of the girls. "Can't you stay on earth one day?"

And there on earth, in such pleasant company, we will leave the Air Service Boys.

THE END

Air Service Boys Flying For Victory

or

Bombing the Last German Stronghold

THE AIRPLANE STARTED TO SHOOT DOWN AT A FRIGHTFUL SPEED.

Contents

I. In Action Over the Argonne

II. Yankee Pluck

III. Jack's Strange Find

IV. The Story of the Lorraine Waif

V. A Red Cross Nurse

VI. Cleaning Out Machine-gun Nests

VII. "Mopping 'em Up!"

VIII. In the Red Triangle Hut

IX. The Night Raid

X. A Surprise for Jack

XI. The Prowlers

XII. A Lively Chase

XIII. The Winning of the Argonne

XIV. Selected for Special Duty

XV. Over the Enemy's Lines

XVI. Blotting Out Hun Headquarters

XVII. Flying for Victory

XVIII. Favored by Fortune

XIX. Tom Leads the Way

XX. Borrowed Goods

XXI. At the Old Chateau

XXII. Invading the Tiger's Den

XXIII. The Only Way

XXIV. Tom Keeps His Word

XXV. Peace in Sight—Conclusion

I. IN ACTIVE OVER THE ARGONNE

"Will that starting signal ever come, Tom?"

"Just hold your horses, Jack. The other squadron has gone out, and is already hard at it over the Boche line. Our turn next. Keep cool. And here's hoping we both pull through with our usual good luck."

"Wow! See that big Hun plane, a Fokker, too, take the nose dive, will you? But he's overshot his mark. I warrant you he is trying like mad to get on a level keel again."

"Good-night! I could almost imagine I heard the crash away off here, even with all that thunder from Big Berthas and the crackle of hundreds of machine guns."

"It makes the goose-flesh tingle all over me, Tom, to think that some day—or it may be night—one or the other of us may finish up in just that kind of fireworks."

"The life of an air pilot is full of hazards, Jack, just remember. If he's going to make a success of his calling he's got to have nerves of steel."

"Yes, and let him lose his grip and confidence because of any unusual danger, his usefulness is gone."

"There's our signal at last, Jack!"

"Here goes! And pity the poor Boche I drive off with my new American plane, and its bully Liberty motor!"

Both young men, attired as air pilots, with goggles and gloves as well as heavy coats for extra warmth in the dizzy spaces a mile or two overhead, hastened to climb aboard their waiting machines, which were of the latest type of battleplane.

Each had an assistant, or observer, who would also handle one of the two machine-guns with which those American flying machines were armed.

The time was that period in the fall of 1918, when the fresh American host burst headlong into the battle line in Northern France.

At Château Thierry and St Mihiel they had struck the astounded foe with the force of an avalanche. The Germans, war-weary, were stunned by the vigor of the fresh army that once in action would not be denied.

Back, and still further back, the struggling lines of grey-coated Hun fighters had been thrust. Every day brought a new surprise for the Kaiser's generals. They were aghast at the resistless method of forcing the fighting adopted by these men from overseas, who seemed to have brought new and amazing elements into the work.

Already many of the more astute German leaders had begun to see the handwriting on the wall traced by the finger of Destiny. Nevertheless they had now descended to uttering boasts of how easy it was going to be to make these "crazy Yankees" pay a frightful price for every mile gained.

But the Germans who figured thus confidently failed to reckon on the rapidly growing discontent at home, where the populace was close to the starvation point. Though their soldiers still fought desperately on, it was with the sullen mien of those who had lost their morale and were close to collapse.

On the day when Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly waited, the latter so impatiently, for the anticipated signal to go into the air, the two armies were joined in battle.

The Americans had been given the most difficult task of all, which was to clean up the great Argonne Forest, and then sweep the fleeing Huns back, past Sedan, famous for the defeat of the second Napoleon, over the border into Germany itself.

Here Hindenburg had concentrated most of his best troops, including the crack Guard regiments. He realized that the gravest peril of all lay in the "push" of this new army, which had already given such an excellent account of its fighting qualities.

In that vast tract of wooded country known as the Argonne the Huns had located innumerable machine-gun nests designed to check the advance of the Yankees and make them pay a fearful price for what they got.

Two men secreted in some nook could open a deadly fire on the oncoming boys in khaki and mow them down like ripe grain before they themselves were wiped out in a furious rush. It paid the German commanders to sacrifice two for a dozen or twenty; though at times they had to chain the gunners to their weapon, for fear they would slip away at the last.

Six battleplanes all in a row were now starting off in rapid succession. A whirr that sounded loud and insistent above the dull roar of the heavy guns, a sudden movement that quickly increased in velocity until the plane was bounding like a rabbit over the open ground, then an upward slant, a beautiful curve that left the ground behind, and another air pilot was off for the post of duty.

Jack Parmly's blood bounded joyously in his veins when he thus rose like a speeding swallow. His new plane, one of the first of the latest type built entirely in the United States, had already filled his heart with delight, and its wonderful Liberty engine seemed to fulfill a dream that Jack, like all other American fliers, had long cherished.

As he rose higher and higher, circling as he went, the scene quickly began to take on a most impressive appearance. Below him lay the forest in all its grim aspect, with openings here and there, now given up to batteries of artillery that were pounding the foe with constant energy.

Clouds of smoke arising in many places told of bursting shells, the destruction of munition dumps, or it might even be some little burning hamlet that had served the Huns at bay for a fortress, but which had been blown almost entirely off the face of the earth by the red hurricane the expert Yankee gunners set loose.

It was easy for Jack to tell where the German battleline lay. He had been up so recently that he knew to a fraction just how far back the enemy force had staggered after the engagement of the preceding day.

And it was straight toward that line he now headed, for his work awaited him in that quarter. Hun planes were soaring like great hawks, swooping down from time to time, and engaging some of the machines bearing the American eagle as their totem.

As usual, Jack made mental note of the fact that seldom were the Huns willing to join in battle unless they outnumbered their foes. That was a compliment to the fighting qualities of the Americans, for it showed that they had already won the respect of their adversaries.

Jack was out for business. He tried to lure one of the enemy fliers into a "scrap" as he always called an engagement, but found the Boche wary. Some of those opposed to the Americans were well known aces who had gained a great reputation, having brought down scores of British and French planes. Yet to-day they seemed loath to enter into combat with this new type of fighter.

Now and then the young airman managed to glimpse Tom's well known machine, for the two chums had decorated their planes with distinguishing marks that they could recognize even when a great distance away. The other was fighting with two of the foe, and was having a serious time of it, spinning like a reel, darting downward to avoid being raked by machine-gun fire, and then coming up on the tail of a Hun with the advantage all on his side.

Jack, still denied his share of action, continued to watch Tom out of the corner of his eye. He felt like giving a shout when presently he saw one of the Hun machines plunge downward as though a shot had paralyzed the arm of the pilot. Over and over it went, bursting into smoke and flames while speeding toward the earth.

There could be no doubt but that Tom would add another count to his score, though he was already reckoned an ace, being accredited with seven clear-cut victories.

But the other Hun aviator had taken advantage of the thrilling moment to dart in and deliver a hot fire. Jack could see the spurt of the machine-gun as it blazed away furiously, the two planes passing one another. He felt his heart in his throat for fear that Tom might be caught napping, for the distance was too great to make sure of what was happening.

Suddenly a cold hand seemingly clutched Jack's heart. Tom was falling rapidly! It was no nose-dive, but bore all the marks of either an engine gone dead or of some mishap to the pilot. So did gallant Tom's plane vanish from the sight of his horrified chum, being swallowed up in the dense volumes of smoke rolling upward from the battleground below. Jack's heart felt like lead in his breast.

II. YANKEE PLUCK

When Tom Raymond sent one of his Hun opponents whirling down toward the far distant earth he naturally experienced the glow that comes to a victor in a stubbornly contested battle.

The gratification was all the more profound because of the fact that he had taken on two adversaries at the same time. Any air pilot who was capable of holding his own against an enemy numerically superior had reason to feel satisfied.

He quickly saw, however, that this did not mean the end of the fight. That other crafty Hun had swung unexpectedly and was now pouring in a furious fire. Tom realized that his assistant had ceased firing. Had the machine-gun become jammed? He was hanging partly from his seat. Was he badly injured in the bargain? Still, despite all this handicap, Tom would possibly have come through in good shape had not something happened to his engine just then. After all, even a Liberty motor could play a trick on its pilot master, just as that fine French engine on his former Spad machine had done a few times.

The airplane started to shoot downward at frightful speed, leaving the Hun far behind. Tom kept his head, and bent every energy to trying to get the motor started again, meanwhile working also to keep on a fairly level keel. He had passed through a similar experience on other occasions, but never when hovering over the German lines with a battle in progress under him.

A sickening sensation gripped his heart, for it flashed before his mind that this might be the end. Like every other aviator, he had defied Fate every time he went up, and at last the dreadful moment had come for him to pay the price!

Not for a single second, even while feeling that queer sensation grip him, did Tom cease working frantically to start his engine. He knew he had one last forlorn chance left. A few seconds would tell the story, and either he must be lucky enough to have his balky engine suddenly start again in response to his frantic efforts, or else—well, he dared not allow himself to dwell on what would happen to him when he struck the ground with all the frightful momentum of his falling machine.

The air service boy lived ages in that brief period of time. Never could he forget the agony that gripped his soul. There flashed before his memory the faces of those he loved at home, those whom he might never see again.

Then it was over. The engine had suddenly yielded to his frantic efforts, and once more commenced to throb with renewed life. Tom, with tremendous exertion, managed to right his tottering plane and steady it on an even keel.

His observer lay in a huddled heap in his seat. But for the safety belt he must have slid into space. Tom could not tell whether he was dead or had simply swooned.

That was a matter for the future. Just now he must concern himself with the task of extricating himself from his fresh perilous position. So rapidly had he fallen that amidst the swirling smoke clouds he could plainly see the Germans just below; and that he must be visible to his enemies he quickly had reason to understand.

Even as he started to spin away, shrapnel burst close beside his plane. Machine-guns also began to chatter underneath, and he saw that the wings of his plane were being cut by the hail of missiles that came up in swarms, like buzzing bees, each armed with a sting.

Dodging this way and that in eccentric lines, Tom brought into play all his acquired knowledge of a pilot's tricks in order to avoid being made a victim of this hot fire. He fully expected that, after all, the enemy would get him, but he was grimly determined that it would be only after he had exhausted every device possible.

He kept his head, and while dodging back and forth managed to follow a general course that promised soon to carry him closer to the American front. At one time he found himself above what seemed to be a very inferno of destruction. The air palpitated with the shock of a terrible explosion, as though a great mine had been fired. But Tom knew what it meant.

That must be the Big Bertha which for some days now had played an important part in shelling the rear of the American lines, even to knocking a temporary field hospital into fragments.

How Tom wished just then that his had been a bombing plane. With what savage joy would he have dropped his whole supply of air torpedoes down upon that mighty engine of destruction, forever silencing its thunderous voice and ending its power to do injury to the cause in which his whole soul was enlisted!

After that his way became somewhat easier, for Tom had succeeded in climbing higher, so that he was screened from the gunners below. Then he found himself passing over the American front, with the open field in sight where the temporary aerodromes could be seen, looking like dingy patches of yellow earth.

Of course there was nothing to do but to return immediately. His observer was injured, if not dead, and would need looking after; while Tom felt that his machine could hardly be called in trim for further work, as it needed a thorough overhauling after the recent rough treatment accorded to it by the fighting Boches.

Despite his crippled machine, the young air service boy managed to make a fairly good landing, with the help of several orderlies and attendants. They had come on the run, understanding that something was wrong, because the observer hung part-way over the side, and it could be seen that the plane itself had been in action.

Tom's first thought was of his comrade. He himself had received only one small cut in the arm from flying shrapnel splinters, though it persisted in bleeding profusely, and would have to be tied up at the nearest field dressing-station.

He breathed easier when he discovered that his observer, while badly injured, would have more than a fighting chance to pull through. A doctor was quickly on the spot, and managed to give temporary treatment, so as to stop the bleeding. The poor fellow waved his hand to Tom as he was being taken away on a stretcher to the nearest field hospital for treatment.

"Here, let me have a look at that left arm of yours, Raymond, while I'm about it," said the surgeon, noticing that the pilot kept wiping drops of blood from his fingers with a handkerchief that had begun to assume a gory appearance.

This satisfied Tom, and the wound was speedily attended to, a bandage being bound in place. The only thing that was troubling the young airman was a haunting fear that he might be kept out of the fighting for several days; and at this exciting stage of the advance that would seem like a real calamity to so ambitious a pilot.

"I suppose you'd kick like a steer," said the surgeon, with a smile, "if I advised you to keep quiet for a day or two, because I know your breed; but if you must join in, be easy on that arm, Raymond. It might give you some trouble if inflammation should set in."

"Oh, I've had much worse scratches than that and never been laid up, Doctor," Tom remarked with the assurance that goes hand in hand with youth and abounding good health. "But I will favor it all I can. Couldn't keep me out of this riot unless you chained me to earth. There's something that keeps calling me up there, some thing that's mighty hard to resist."

"Yes, I know. You're all alike, you daring air pilots," said the other, shaking his head disapprovingly. "But you're splendid, splendid! And I'm certainly proud to be an American these days. You boys have set a pace that every British and French aviator will have to hustle to equal. Your coming has been the turning point of the war. The Hun is already whipped, only he doesn't wholly realize it just yet."

Tom, instead of seeking his quarters at once for rest, "loafed around" watching all that went on. Never a plane that came back but he was there to receive the comrade with enthusiasm. Some had been in the fight and bore signs of the experience through which they had passed. One especially was burning with disappointment because he had lost his "prize."

"Had him going, too, when this motor of mine went back on me and started in to miss fire so often that he got away," he spluttered. "Never was so mad in all my life as when I had to turn and sneak back home like a dog with his tail between his legs. But me for another machine, and back to the game again. I'll get that Hun yet, see if I don't!"

Often did Tom strain his eyes trying to pick out the plane of his chum among those that from time to time could be seen far distant, some engaged with the enemy, while others were seeking to gain information of value to the American commander.

When a whole hour had gone and there was still no sign of Jack, he began to feel worried. Vainly he questioned some of the returning pilots; for as the battle waned both above and below they were now coming in by shoals, tired, yet full of enthusiasm over their recent exploits.

From one Tom managed to secure the only tip that seemed of value; and it was hardly encouraging.

"I am sure I saw Jack having a lively circus with several Boches about an hour back," this man informed Tom. "Don't know how the jig ended, because I found myself in a mix-up soon afterwards, and it kept my hands full. But let's hope the boy came through O K. I saw you drop your man, Tom; and it must have been a close shave for you in the bargain."

The man went on about his business, and Tom again took up his weary watching and waiting. The minutes dragged by, but still no Jack, nor did there come any further word of him. Finally, weary and discouraged, Tom turned back toward his temporary quarters.

On arriving there, however, he found something that for the moment took his mind off the uncertain fate of his chum.

III. JACK'S STRANGE FIND

"Letters!" exclaimed Tom, as he entered the building where he had his headquarters. "One for me from home, and two for Jack," he went on, as he hurriedly sorted the little pile.

"Nice!" was his next ejaculation, as he looked at the postmark on the next letter he picked up. "Who is writing to me from Nice? I don't know anybody in the south of France."

The next letter he picked up was also postmarked "Nice." This one was addressed to Jack Parmly, was more than twice the thickness of the one addressed to Tom, and was in the same girlish handwriting.

"Bessie Gleason!" This was Tom's third exclamation. Then he slit the envelopes of his letters one after another and sat down to read his mail.

While he is engaged in this apparently pleasing occupation, and at the same time keeping an anxious eye out for the coming of his chum, Jack, it might be just as well to explain a little further who these daring young American air pilots were, and also tell something concerning their previous exploits.

Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly had both been born in Virginia, and there, at a government school for aviation training, they had taken their first lessons in flying, after the world war broke out. They decided to follow that calling in case the United States should be eventually swept into the war.

Tom's father was an inventor whose secret papers concerning a wonderful airplane stabilizer had been stolen by an adroit German spy. Afterwards the two chums when in France had managed to recover these documents, as well as accomplish many other brilliant exploits, all this being told in the first volume of this series, entitled: "Air Service Boys Flying for France; or, The Young Heroes of the Lafayette Escadrille."

In the second volume Tom and Jack proved their right to be called first-class air pilots by battling with success against Hun fliers. They saw considerable of the tragic happenings that convulsed that portion of France, while they were connected with the famous French flying corps.

Here, too, these young Air Service boys again found an opportunity for proving their worth in the rescue of pretty Bessie Gleason and her mother from an old chateau in Lorraine where Carl Potzfeldt, a German spy, had them imprisoned. These interesting and exciting events will be found in the second volume of the series, entitled: "Air Service Boys Over the Enemy's Lines; or, The German Spy's Secret."

Then came another series of happenings that must always appeal to boy readers fond of thrilling scenes, for in the next book, among many other things, is told how Tom and Jack succeeded in silencing the monster cannon that from a distance of sixty miles and more was bombarding Paris. That will be found narrated in "Air Service Boys Over the Rhine; or, Fighting Above the Clouds."

Then there is the volume just preceding this, in which again the two brave young Yankee air pilots were given an opportunity to prove the value of their training, now in the service of the American forces, for General Pershing had come across the sea, and his army was beginning to make its presence felt at several sectors of the battleline.

What they saw and did, as well as vivid descriptions of the momentous events accompanying the great German drive is told in the fourth book of the series, "Air Service Boys in the Big Battle; or, Silencing the Big Guns."

Among their friends at the front was a young and daring aviator, Harry Leroy by name, who had had the misfortune to be shot down behind the German lines, and it was in connection with his discovery and rescue by the chums that some of the events of the last volume came about.

And it may as well be confessed here that Tom felt more than a passing interest in the pretty sister of Harry, for Nellie Leroy was serving her country as a Red Cross nurse, being just then in one of the American field hospitals to which the wounded were being carried day after day while the Argonne drive was on.

Tom was a full hour and more reading his letters, rereading them, and dreaming over them. After their rescue from the château Mrs. Gleason and Bessie had gone to Paris, where the mother, ably assisted by her daughter, had thrown herself into Red Cross work. Now, so Bessie's note told Tom, her mother was very tired and the two had gone down to Nice for a brief rest. It would be perfect, Bessie wrote, if only Tom and Jack and Nellie Leroy were with them.

For a while Tom lost himself in the thought of being at Nice, by the blue sea, with Mrs. Gleason and Bessie and Nellie—especially Nellie—and with Jack. With Jack! That thought aroused him.

Still no Jack! He grew more and more concerned, and began to picture all sorts of grievous things as having happened to his chum.

Several times he thought he heard the well known voice near by, but on each occasion discovered that he had deceived himself. Tom felt he could stand it no longer, and had even commenced to set forth when, to his delight, he discovered Jack coming.

"But what's he doing with that mite of a French child?" Tom asked himself, staring in wonder and perplexity. "A cunning little girl she seems to be; but a battlefield isn't just the place for such an innocent. Poor thing! I suppose she's lost all her kin, and Jack brought her along because he couldn't let her stay at the ruins of her home and starve."

He was so filled with joy over the coming of his chum, who did not seem to be wounded in the least, that everything else was forgotten.

"Letters from home, Jack, old scout; hurry your stumps!" he called out, waving the epistles above his head.

Jack, still in his pilot's dress, was so eager to hurry that he picked up the little six-year-old French child, and ran the last fifty yards.

"Did you get any yourself, Tom?" he demanded, as he came up; and then immediately added: "I see you have some, and by the same token one of them has a French stamp on it—from Nice!"

"Oh, it's Bessie Gleason," said Tom with a twinkle in his eye. "You remember my telling you she promised to write to me if I'd answer and let her hear what stunts the air boys were pulling off over here in the Argonne. Let you read it if you care to, Jack."

"Very good of you, Tom," grinned the other. "But excuse me while I look over my own letters. And say, perhaps you'll make friends with this little girl here until I get through. I've got something to tell about her that will give you a thrill, I reckon."

It was just like Jack to say enough to set his chum guessing, and then leave him "up in the air" so to speak. Tom looked again at the child. He could see that he had made no mistake when thinking she was winsome, at first sight. He also knew that it would be impossible to make Jack talk until he had read several times over the letter Bessie had written to him, and it was a very fat letter.

"Come and make friends with me, little girl," Tom said. "Can you speak English, I wonder, or will I have to try my stumbling French on you? What is your name?"

"It is Jeanne, M'sieu!" lisped the child, sweetly, and Tom was more than ever drawn toward her when he saw the appealing smile on her face.

"Jeanne, is it? A very pretty name too. Jeanne what?" he went on. And as Tom always won the confidence of children by his kindly manner she drew closer to him, and he took her little hand in his and squeezed it.

"Jeanne Anstey, M'sieu. And my sister's name, it is Helene," she told him.

"Oh! then you have a sister, have you?" Tom continued. "Where is Helene just now, Jeanne?"

The child's eyes immediately filled with tears. Still, with a queer little French shrug that was almost comical in one so very young, she said pathetically:

"Ah, M'sieu, it is the pity that I do not know. That bad man took her away while my poor mamma lay dying, trying to hold Helene. Me, mamma hid from the man. I sometimes wish it had been me he took on his horse with him, instead of Helene."

Tom began to wonder what lay back of all this. He looked toward Jack, to see that the other had paused in his reading as if to listen.

"Tell you all about it as soon as I get through this letter from my mother, Tom," the other remarked. "Well worth waiting to hear, too, I give you my word. One of the queerest things that ever happened to me. I've already more than half promised Jeanne we'll try our level best to find Helene, her twin sister, for her."

"Nice of you I'm sure," chuckled Tom; "but I want to hear what it's all about before I cast my vote. Little time we've got these busy days to go chasing around the country hunting for lost children, sorry as I feel for the little thing."

"Just wait, and don't take snap judgment, that's all, Tom. Guess I know about how it'll strike you. Give me five minutes more to clean up here, and I'll tell you everything."

So Tom continued to amuse himself by talking with the wonderfully bright little French child, who proved more and more interesting on further acquaintance. Undoubtedly one of her parents had been English, a fact which would account for her speaking the language so correctly. From her name of Anstey he concluded this must have been her father, while the mother was very likely French, hence Jeanne and that other name, Helene.

"Now I'm ready to explain things, Tom," announced Jack, who wore the marks to tell that he, too, along with Tom, had reached the rank of sergeant in the Flying Corps.

"Glad to hear you say so, because you've managed to get me as curious as any old woman," grumbled Tom. "First of all, tell me how you fared back there over the battlelines. You didn't seem at all surprised to find me here; yet I reckon you knew I took a tumble?"

"Oh, I met Lefty Marr on the way here, and he told me you'd come back in good shape. But poor Hennessy was badly mauled, they say. How about him? As good an observer as there is in the whole sector!"

"Pretty badly knocked out, and his flying days are about finished, I'm afraid," Tom admitted. "He'll be months in the sick ward; and by the time he gets to going we Yankees will have sewed up the game. Go to it now, Jack."

"Oh, I managed to get in a circus after I saw you go down, Tom," the other replied. "I was feeling pretty punk and ugly because I didn't know whether I'd ever see you again, for it looked as if you'd either been killed or fallen into the hands of the Boches—and that was almost as bad a job.

"Well, we had a glorious little run for our money, and I sent down one Hun, and crippled another chap's machine so that he had to turn tail and scoot for home. Then came three other big Gothas that set me to spinning on my head. But after they'd chased me for miles, a leak in my tank let out every drop of petrol; and so the only thing to do was to drop down and make a landing.

"Luck favored us and we dropped on to a field. The Huns hung around a bit as if they wanted to make sure of us; but Morgan and I managed to crawl into a thicket, and so they went away finally.

"We were several miles from our base, and with no petrol to be had for love or money. Morgan said he'd stay by the plane while I walked all the way to get a supply. Tom, it was the luckiest thing going for this child here that I decided on taking that walk along the woods road; I don't know what would have become of her otherwise."

He stopped speaking to pat the black-haired child caressingly. That was really one of the finest things marking the conduct of the American soldiers in France—their respect for women and their love for children. Those boys in khaki captured myriads of French mothers' hearts by the way they romped with the youngsters and bought them all sorts of dainties at the Y. M. C. A. huts.

"I came on her suddenly, and of course stopped to say a few words, because it is hard for me to pass a child by," Jack continued. "And after I'd asked her a few questions I found that I was getting mightily interested in Jeanne.

"Then she began tugging at something that was fastened by a ribbon about her neck. I soon discovered it was a locket, somewhat battered to be sure, but still pretty. She proceeded to try to open this, but her chubby little fingers didn't seem equal to the task, so I did it for her.

"It held a bit of very thin paper, and on taking this out I found it was covered with writing, in French of course, and done with a lead pencil at that. Slowly I managed to make out what the letter said, for it was a letter, Tom, meant especially for me, simply because I had been, by chance, the one to stop and speak to the child.

"Listen now, Tom, and I'll read you what is written here on the paper, just as I managed to translate it. And be ready to hold your breath, too, because there's something of a real thrill connected with it."

"Shoot!" was all Tom said in reply.

IV. THE STORY OF THE LORRAINE WAIF

Jack had taken the locket in question out of his coat-pocket and opened it, extracting the folded paper it contained. This latter he smoothed out, for it was a mass of creases, from having been crushed into so small a receptacle.

"'To the kind friend who finds my child,' it starts," said Jack impressively. "'Her name is Jeanne Anstey. I am her wretched and dying mother, dying for my beloved France. It is the Boche who has done this. They came at daylight, and burned the poor cottage in which we have been making our home.

"'That terrible man was here with them as before, mounted on his horse, and with all his trappings. His name it is Anton von Berthold, and he is my half-brother. To my face he boasted, knowing that I was surely dying, that through Helene he meant some day to claim our estate in Lorraine, where there are deposits of iron that will be worth millions of francs yearly.

"'I believe he has long plotted to get hold of this property, and schemed to secure his ends through one of my poor children. Oh! if you have a heart, my friend, I pray you by all you hold sacred to see that my Jeanne is cared for; and, if it be possible, try to save my poor Helene from that monster.

"'This is the plea of a dying Frenchwoman. I have faith to believe Heaven will not desert the innocent in their hour of suffering. So I lay me down to rest, while my Jeanne will go forth in search of you, kind friend. And with my last breath I still proudly say, "Vive la France!"'"

"Is that all?" asked Tom, as his chum stopped.

"Yes, and there are some of the words blurred. I think it must have been through the tears of this poor woman. She seems to have been wealthy before the Huns drove her out of Lorraine because she had French blood in her veins, and was probably married to an Englishman. What do you think of it, Tom?"

"It's certainly a dreadful thing for so small a child as Jeanne to be left alone in the world," replied the other. "What can we do about her, Jack, have you any idea?"

Jack remained for a moment in deep thought. Then he gave his comrade a sidewise look as he spoke again.

"Do you know," he ventured to say, "it has struck me that if we could get an hour or two off duty this evening you and I might take the little thing to Nellie and ask her if she couldn't have her looked after, as long as the Gleasons are out of reach in the south of France."

"Nellie Leroy!" exclaimed Tom, astonished, "Why, how could we manage it? The last I heard she was in a hospital on the French front, over in the mountain section of Alsace."

"Oh, I've had later news than that," replied Jack. "Met Harry yesterday, and among other things he mentioned the fact that his sister had been transferred to the American front; in fact was right then only a few miles away from where we stood and talked."

"You never said a word to me about it, Jack! Nor has Nellie written—unless her letter was lost."

"Meant to tell you, Tom, several times, but something always butted in; and finally it slipped my mind. And, really, I supposed you knew. But what do you think of my scheme?"

"Perfectly lovely. It's about the only way I see that we can get Jeanne into proper hands. Nellie has a heart of gold, and will manage somehow to see that the little thing is properly cared for."

"Especially when she learns that you've constituted yourself Jeanne's guardian and protector," chuckled Jack.

"Let up on that, I tell you!"

"Well, this child seems to be thrown in my way for a purpose, and, Tom, I'm going to try my level best to save her twin sister from that scoundrel of an uncle," announced Jack, with returning seriousness.

"Hear! hear!" chuckled Tom. "All the knights haven't cashed in yet, it seems. You ought to have a Sancho Panza around, Jack, because you're out to rescue beauty in distress; even if in this case the little lady is only about six years old. But tell me again what the name of the arch villain is. At the time you mentioned it before, I thought it seemed sort of familiar to me."

Jack referred again to the crumpled slip of paper to make certain, after which he announced:

"A regular German name, it seems, though he may of course be a Lorrainer, as Jeanne's mother was. Anton von Berthold."

"H'm! Thought so!" Tom burst out. "Don't you remember there's a General von Berthold on the other side, a particularly smart military man, too, who they say originated this machine-gun-nest business as a means for delaying the pursuit of a retreating army?"

"Tom, you're right!" exclaimed Jack, evidently annoyed, thinking that that circumstance might make his self-assumed task the more difficult. "Wouldn't it be queer if he should prove to be the very one? It doesn't seem reasonable to me."

"Why not?" demanded his companion quickly. "Couldn't a German general conspire to lay hands on the property of a relative just as easily as any ordinary person? Haven't they been accused of stealing most of the valuables in Belgium and Northern France as spoils of war, from priceless paintings and works of art to family plate and jewelry?"

"I reckon you're about right, Tom, so far as that goes," agreed Jack, finally impressed by what his chum said. "General Anton von Berthold—if we find out that is his first name it would settle it for me. And then we could perhaps learn from one of the prisoners we find in the barbed wire stockade something about his goings-on, where he's putting up at present, and all that, you know."

"And in the meantime don't you think Jeanne would like something to eat?" asked Tom. "How could she ever have managed to make her way through the Boche lines, and get to where you ran across her?"

"I've tried to find out," Jack told him. "She mentions something about being taken by a neighbor after that man carried her sister away on his horse. They told her that her mother had died, and been buried. Then one day she was taken, hidden under a load of forage, and carried miles away. When she was put down in the end they told her she could soon find the Americans, who were near by. But she had wandered about in the forest for nearly a whole day before I came on her."

"Well, let's skirmish for something to eat. Our chef is a good friend of yours, Jack; suppose you go around and tell him what's doing. He'll not refuse to let you have something for a poor little girl. Take Jeanne along with you. She'll win Erastus over without fail by one of her smiles."

"I'll do it, though I hardly think it necessary. The poor little thing must be awfully tired, too. But I'll carry her, I did that most of the journey here. Then to get some gas and start back to where Morgan is sitting on our plane, waiting for me to come."

"Here, you get busy with that gas and I'll manage the grub part of the programme! If Erastus declines to fork over I'll choke him. But I know he can't refuse when he sees her," and Tom jerked his thumb backward while saying this toward Jeanne, now sitting on a friendly stump looking about her with interest at the bustling scene.

Jack hurried away to secure a can of gasoline, while Tom took Jeanne by the hand and led her toward the air squadron's camp kitchen, or "chuck-wagon."

Erastus, the cook, was as usual about that hour as busy as a bee. With so many hungry men to provide for when meal time came around, he hardly found a minute to call his own.

It chanced, however, that Tom, as well as Jack, had become a favorite with the cook, and he always had a cheery word for either of the young air pilots.

"Ah, there, Sergeant, where'd you get the skirt?" he remarked, giving little Jeanne several winks, though the red of his face was only indicative of good-nature.

It smelled so good around the steamer of coffee and the piles of fresh bread which Erastus and his helper had piled up that even the timid child smiled back at the one who seemed to be the "boss" of all that vast array of good things—much more than she had ever seen before in all her life.

For Jeanne was very, very hungry, having eaten almost nothing since the previous afternoon.

"Jack came across her, you see, Erastus, and—" bending forward so Jeanne might not hear what he said—"she's lost her sister, and the mother has died, a victim of the Huns. Erastus, she's nearly starved, and I was wondering whether you wouldn't give me something for her."

"Against orders, you know, Sergeant," said the other. Then he looked more pityingly than ever at the pretty child. "But just this once I might," he added. "Say, I'd go without my own supper sooner'n see that duck suffer, sure I would. Wait around, and see what happens, Sergeant."

Tom did linger, apparently explaining to little Jeanne all about the wonderful invention in the way of a cook's outfit that could take care of a multitude of hungry fighters, and which was modeled somewhat on the pattern of the "chuck-wagon" long in use on the cattle ranges of the far Southwest.

Then there was a mysterious passing of something that Tom hastened to stow away, an exchange of muttered words with the rosy-cheeked cook, after which Tom and Jeanne went back to the quarters of the boys, where for some little time he watched the almost starving child devour quantities of bread and butter—actually real butter—made into sandwiches which Erastus had hastily done up for her.

Tom was about to go to headquarters with the request that he and Jack might be allowed a short furlough in order to take the little girl to put her in Nellie Leroy's care when an orderly came with a message from the young airman's superior officer ordering him to go out on special scout duty.

It was with a half sigh that Tom Raymond began his preparations, for his interest in Nellie was deep, and he had looked forward with pleasure to this chance of seeing her, and now he must leave this matter wholly to his chum.

Still, little Jeanne Anstey was Jack's "find," and the young air pilot was evidently deeply interested in the child and wanted to aid her with as little help from others, even from his best chum, as was possible. Perhaps, after all, Tom felt, it was best that the matter was left to Jack.

But Jack was a long time in returning. In a short time Tom must go on duty, and what was he to do with Jeanne in the meanwhile?

"Little girls are all right," murmured Tom, "but I guess they are not much in my line. Gee! I wish Jack would come."

V. A RED CROSS NURSE

Half an hour later, and just as Tom was growing desperate, his companions in the flying unit having one and all laughingly refused to help him out of his predicament by acting as "nurse maid," as they called it, Jack showed up again.

"Got the old bus safe in its shed all right," he told his chum, nodding cheerily to Jeanne, who greeted his coming with a smile. "Now to hit the grub pile and then to see if we can get off for a short time! Got to make some arrangement for Jeanne tonight, you know, Tom!"

"You do," assented the other, "but I'm out of it." Then Tom told his chum of his own assignment to special duty. "I'm off now, but don't forget to give Nellie my best regards."

"I sure will, Tom," answered Jack.

With that he hurried away to learn if anything worth eating had been left after the ferocious charge, not of the Light Brigade, but a pack of hungry Yankees whose capacity for storing away food seemed unbounded.

Jack either had scanty pickings, or else he tempted an attack of dyspepsia by bolting his food, for inside of ten minutes he was around again. Tom, who had not yet got away on his mission, looked surprised.

"Cleaned out, were they, at the chuck-wagon?" he asked.

"Well, Erastus told me that he had had a most unusual run on his outfit this evening, and so I just took a bite in a hurry. You know, if I feel like it I can stop in at the Red Triangle hut on the way to the field hospital and buy some chocolate. Then if I run across any Salvation Army girls it's possible they'll have a few of their doughnuts left over. That would be a great treat to Jeanne."

"I reckon either of them would," remarked Tom thoughtfully. "If her folks have been back of the Boche lines all these four years they must have lived on short rations. Here, Jack, I insist on standing for half of all the expense. Take this silver and call on me for any amount as you may need it. I won't listen to a refusal, understand."

Jack had been about to decline absolutely, but on second thought he accepted the loose change.

"Fact is, Jeanne will need some things most likely, for you can see how miserable her shoes are, while her clothes look mighty seedy. Now, Nellie, we both happen to know, is a clever hand at such things, and she'll be only too glad to take charge of Jeanne's wardrobe. So I'll accept your offer. Anyway, we've always shared alike in everything, as equal partners should."

"Yes, even to that licking I once got when you were caught under Amos Grimes' peach tree hunting for the ball I knocked over the fence. He vowed you were after his fruit, and started to give you a taste of the switch he carried."

"Yes," broke in Jack, chuckling. "And you, meaning to explain, came over the fence, only to get a taste of the same switch. I always did believe he divided the honors equally between us, and that you got some of the stripes he'd intended for me. Come, Jeanne, we'll be going now."

"But how about your leaving the camp here without orders, Jack? I was going to ask for this leave when my assignment to duty came; so I did not ask."

"Oh, I met Captain Desmond on the way to the chuck-wagon and explained things to him, so he gave me permission to be gone up to midnight."

"And you'll use it up to the last minute, I warrant," laughed Tom, actually kissing, in the renewed courage Jack's return gave him, the red lips of the little French girl, who already seemed to look upon these two tall young Americans as friends raised up by a special Providence to help her. He then hurried away.

Jack took Jeanne's hand in his and they walked along. Much comment was caused on his being thus seen by many of the other airmen in the camp adjoining the field of the khaki-colored hangars. Jack took it all in his customary happy-go-lucky way and sent back as good as he received.

When they came to the dugout that was serving as a temporary refuge for the Red Triangle workers, the hut of refreshment such as the Y. M. C. A. girls and men were in the habit of putting up, often close back of the firing line, Jack took his little charge in with him.

Jeanne's pretty face and bewitching ways immediately won the hearts of the girls in khaki who were doing war work. They clustered about the pair, and asked many questions; but as Jack was in somewhat of a hurry he could answer them only in a general way.

"She's lost her mother, and her twin sister was carried away by a Boche general who is some relation, though he hates the family. My chum and I mean to provide for little Jeanne. I'm taking her now to a girl friend who is a Red Cross nurse in the field hospital."

He hurriedly made his purchases, and they went on, Jeanne eagerly devouring part of a cake of chocolate, though she also persisted in clinging to Jack's hand. Somehow it made the boy feel much older when he felt that confiding little hand in his. It seemed as though new responsibilities had been suddenly thrust upon him.

The approach of night had put an end to most of the clamor that made day seem so hideous. Only occasionally did a Big Bertha in the far distance growl menacingly, to be followed by the crash of a mighty shell somewhere within a mile or two of the spot where Jack and his charge walked along through the forest.

He was stopped and challenged frequently, but having the countersign, had no difficulty in passing the sentries. Many campfires twinkled under the trees, near and far, where tired doughboys were resting and doubtless exchanging stories of the day's exciting achievements; or talking of home—what Broadway looked like, or Fourth Street, or Canal Street; what the result of the world series of baseball games, a pet subject of dispute among these brawny followers of the national sport.

"Getting tired, are you, Jeanne?" asked Jack presently, noticing that the child dragged her little feet at times, despite all efforts to show a brave front.

Without waiting for an answer Jack scooped her up in his arms, and persisted in carrying her the rest of the way. Before they reached the field hospital poor little tired Jeanne was fast asleep, snuggled in those protecting arms, and as Jack looked down on her baby face, seen in the first lights he came to, he renewed his vow to stand by the orphan through thick and thin.

But here was the long low shed hastily put together, and fashioned so that it could be taken down and moved farther along to the new front every few days. Through the opening he glimpsed figures in white, bearing the symbolic Red Cross on headpiece and left arm, moving about among the white cots, attending to the wounded soldiers.

It was not long before Jack discovered the particular nurse for whom he was looking. Nellie Leroy may have seemed young for such duties, but what she lacked in age she more than made up for by her wonderful skill. Indeed the head surgeon many times declared that the girl was a born nurse; and when there was a particularly interesting case to be attended he made it a point to see that the patient was placed in Nellie's ward.

So Jack and his burden appeared before Nellie. She of course looked very much surprised to see him, but the smile on her pretty face told Jack his coming was most welcome to Harry's sister. Nellie thought a great deal of Tom Raymond but she liked Jack also.

"Put the child on this empty cot, and then tell me all about her," said Nellie. "Who is she and how do you come to be bringing her here? I hope it isn't because the poor baby has been injured; though those Boches seem to be equal to anything that is cruel and terrible."

"I'll be only too glad to explain everything, Nellie," Jack said, after he had done as she told him, and watched, perhaps half enviously, while the tender-hearted nurse bent over and kissed sleeping Jeanne on her forehead. "Can you spare a little time just now? The story isn't going to be very long; although I'm in no hurry to get back."

"It happens that we're through much sooner than usual tonight," she assured him. "And besides, I'll ask Mollie King to look after my patients, as hers were mostly taken south in the last detachment of ambulances bound for the base hospitals. Here, sit down on this bench, Jack, and I'll be back in a minute. But first, how is Tom?"

On the young nurse's return Jack told his story in detail. Nellie listened with deep interest. She would have been better satisfied if modest Jack had only been more enlightening with regard to his thrilling engagement with the Hun fliers; but then she knew his failings did not lie in the field of boasting, and so she had to picture those incidents for herself.

Jack was more inclined to go into details when Jeanne came into the story.

"Here's the paper that was in the gold locket, Nellie," he told her. "Read it for yourself. You can get the meaning of the French a heap better than I ever could. It'll make the tears come in your eyes though, when you picture that poor woman dying there, one child carried off by that villain of a relative, and the other about to be cast adrift on a world at war."

"How dreadful it all is, Jack!" said the nurse, after she had finished reading the crumpled bit of paper that held such a tragic story. "Now tell me why you have brought little Jeanne to me?"

"Because, Nellie," said Jack, "Tom and I knew we could depend on your warm heart to manage somehow or other. She's got to have shoes and clothes, and then be placed in the charge of some decent person until Tom and I can come and claim her, after we chase these Boches back over the Rhine, and the war is over. Bessie and her mother have left Paris for a while and are in Nice, too far away for me to send Jeanne to them. We—Tom and I—did not know another girl or woman to turn to, so I have come to you."

Nellie bent her head in deep thought, while Jack waited anxiously. Presently she looked up and smiled into his eager face.

"I'll manage it all right, Jack, leave it to me," she told him. "I may have to keep her with me for a day or two, though a field hospital is a dreadful place for a child to stay in. When I've found a way to get her the necessities she must have I'll make sure she is placed with some good people who for a consideration will care for her."

"Fine, Nellie! But then it's no more than I expected from you!" Jack told her, in a low tone. "There's another thing I want to explain. Tom and I have money enough, you know, and we've made up a purse to carry our ward along for some time. Take these French notes, and make any arrangement you see fit with the person in whose care you leave her. There's plenty more cash where this came from."

"But Jack, I'd like to share with you two generous boys in this kind deed of yours," protested Nellie. "I have means, too, and wouldn't miss anything we might plan to contribute between us."

"Ah, you'll be doing the hardest part as it is, Nellie," he told her, and then on second thought, realizing that such an arrangement might afford him and Tom many an excuse for seeing Nellie as well as Jeanne, he added: "But I'll talk it over with Tom, and if he's willing we might let you come into the partnership arrangement. Isn't she a little darling, though? I'm speaking of Jeanne now."

After that they found much to talk about, and it was quite late when Jack finally got up to go. Jeanne was still sound asleep.

"I'll get her into bed presently, when I've looked after several of my more seriously wounded patients," Nellie assured him. "And when you come again perhaps I'll have made a start on her wardrobe; though I imagine it's going to be a serious job to collect anything here. But some of the nurses will be only too glad to help. When shall I see you again, Jack?"

"Oh! Me? Why, I'll try to get around to-morrow night, if they'll give me permission. Tom, too, I hope. Of course there'll be heaps we must talk over. This thing of being guardian to a real flesh-and-blood child is a serious business. So I'll say good-night. Kiss little Jeanne for me, and I'll try not to forget one of your messages to Tom. Now, good-bye."

VI. CLEANING OUT MACHINE-GUN NESTS

"A busy day ahead of us, Jack!" Tom remarked the next morning, after they had breakfasted and were getting themselves ready for going up.

Early though the hour was it seemed as though the whole inferno of terrible noises had broken out much louder than on the preceding day. From every quarter men could be heard shouting; while detachments of infantry were hurrying off with orders to reach certain points before nightfall, no matter what obstacles they had to surmount.

The big guns were "talking," and there began to be heard the chatter of deadly machine-guns; the deep-toned explosion of shells, and the peculiar sound of the German minnewurfer, used with such effect in the former trench battles that the Boche still clung to it through all the retreat.

Then there were close around them planes starting off with a rush, pilots and observers gaily waving their hands to comrades still detained, but just as eager to go as though it were a picnic to which they were thus invited instead of a possible repast with the Grim Reaper.

"What makes you think it's bound to be any different from yesterday, Tom?" demanded the one spoken to, as he adjusted a strap, and took a last critical survey of the more important wire stays of his machine upon which so much depended.

"Oh! not different, only more of it," Tom explained. "On our scouting expedition last night we found that the Huns have a series of extra strong nests fixed for us to-day. We're to arrange with the batteries for signaling in regard to these, for they would take too big a toll of the boys if rushed like the common variety, where there's only one gun and a couple of Boches to handle it."

"Glad to hear it," snapped Jack. "So far neither of us has had the good luck to locate a big hornets' nest. I hope our chance comes to-day. I've always wanted to see how that game worked."

"Well, perhaps you'll know more about it when we meet to-night, which it is to be hoped will come about," said Tom, a bit seriously.

Indeed, in those strenuous times none in the army could be at all certain he would be in the land of the living a few hours ahead. In particular the daring air pilots who so often took great hazards were in peril. Yet the men went about their duties with apparently light hearts.

"Here's Harry!" exclaimed Jack, a moment afterwards, as a wideawake looking young fellow stopped for a minute near them, being on the way to his hangar in company with his assistant.

Harry Leroy had become very friendly with the two air service boys, although they had not known him until long after reaching France. But he was a genial boy, known to be an unusually clever air pilot and well on the way to being cited as an American ace, for he had now disabled his quota of enemy machines.

"They tell me we're going to make a big dent in the Boche lines to-day, fellows!" he sang out, with one of his genial smiles. "Our commander has a programme laid out that's said to be pretty ambitious. Some of us are even hoping it may turn out to be the real start for the Rhine, and that we'll clean up this old Argonne region pretty soon now."

"Slow but sure is our policy these days, Harry," Tom remarked. "It takes a heap of time, and makes a hole in our reserves; but the work is done so thoroughly that it'll stay done. And soon we'll be out of the woods."

"The boys are longing for that day to come," said Harry, about to start on once more. "They're just sick and tired of this kind of fighting. Wait till we get Fritz out in the open, and you'll see how well rush him back like hot cakes! So long, both of you. Here's wishing you the best of luck and another notch in your stick by nightfall."

Of course Tom had secured another observer in place of the poor fellow who had been so badly injured on that other flight of his. His arm, too, had healed.

Shortly afterwards the air service boys received word to start, and along with four other planes mounted upward like birds on the wing.

So far as appearances went the scene below them did not differ materially from the preceding day. There was the same vast stretch of grim forest known as the Argonne, with occasional openings here and there, "breathing spots," they might be called. These marked sites of farms, timber or cutting authorized at some past day by the French government, that controlled the wonderful tract of woods, possibly the largest in all France. Smoke was already rolling upward in great volumes while the air pulsated with the fearful crash of every imaginable type of gun, both large and small. As the day wore on all this was bound to increase greatly, the impetuous Americans pushing forward and wresting rod after rod of the forest from the enemy, paying the price without a murmur, but grimly determined.

Jack having attained the required altitude commenced "fishing." That was his way of describing the means employed for learning where the Huns were lying in wait, ready to pour in a deadly machine-gun fire on the first detachment of Yankees that came along.

The darting plane would dive down close to the tops of the tall trees, and thus offer such a tantalizing bait that the concealed Hun gunners, unable to resist the temptation, were likely to shoot at the cruising machine.

Of course this would expose their secret hiding-place, but inaccurately located in the darkness the night before, and it was the business of the observer to signal his discovery back to those who were on the watch.

The consequence would be that instead of making a frontal attack on that particular nest, the infantry would resort to Indian tactics, making a flank movement that would carry them past, then closing in from the rear. At a given signal some of their mates would make a hostile demonstration in front to chain the attention of the gunners, while others would creep up so close from the rear that they would be able to get both men.

Of course this meant that the venturesome fliers would be taking additional risks. When that machine-gun should start to pepper their plane they were likely to be struck by one or more of the shower of missiles coming hissing up like enraged hornets. What matter, when they were accepting chances just as desperate every minute of the time they remained aloft?

Jack and his assistant, Morgan, found themselves busily engaged inside of ten minutes. They swooped so low that suddenly there was a burst of fire, and bullets commenced to cut through both wings of their plane. The body had been sheathed in metal that would serve to ward off most of this hail, but despite this they took many chances of a mishap.

Immediately Morgan noted the exact spot from which the firing came, so he could locate it in sending out his signal of warning. Jack meanwhile was doing his part, dodging in zigzag curves in all directions in order to baffle the aim of the Hun gunners.

Then, too, the trees helped greatly to conceal them from the observation of the enemy below; so that the firing kept up for a very brief time only. But their trick had succeeded. The Boches dared not come out from their place of concealment lest they be discovered and shot down by the stealthily advancing Americans. Perhaps they were even chained there, as frequently happened.

In consequence they had to cower under their shelter and wait until, later on, without warning, there would come loud shouts from the front, and when they craned their necks to catch the first glimpse of the foe shots from the rear would clean up that nest.

Morgan started with his signal work immediately after they had climbed to the proper altitude, where they might work without being in too great danger from the "Archies," or anti-aircraft guns.

As soon as he had a response, and knew that his directions were accurately noted, he announced the fact to Jack. They were then ready to begin all over and start "fishing" again.

It was very exciting work, and Jack Parmly gloried in it. Though he had to take additional chances in order to tempt the Hun gunners to betray their cunningly arranged coverts, there was also a satisfaction in knowing that by so doing he and his assistant were saving many precious lives of the infantry regiments down in the forest that had proved a graveyard for thousands.

A second time did they get a "bite." Again was the retreat conducted in the midst of a rattling volley, with hurtling missiles burning the air all around them, as well as beating a lively tattoo on the armored parts of their plane.

After that they flew higher, in the hope that some enterprising Boche flier, seeing their challenge, would come over to give them battle. For half an hour, they kept this up, and then, as they tempted forth no adversary, determined to drop down once more and root out a third nest before going in for the noonday meal.

"They're at it hammer and tongs to-day for fair!" called out Morgan, as he used his binoculars and picked out spots far below where there seemed to be open fighting going on. He could discover bodies of German troops being rushed forward and then falling back with decimated ranks before a fierce flame of shot and shell poured in by Yankee batteries.

"Getting desperate, that's what!" announced Jack, starting a dip that by stages would take them down once more into the dangerous quarter of treetops under which lurked the deadly foe with his thousands of rapid-fire guns.

Other planes were in sight here and there, carrying out similar tactics with more or less success, according to the daring of the pilot in tempting the Huns beyond their power to resist. Jack determined to pass further on and see what he could unearth in a new quarter.

What he and his chum had been talking of that very morning was still fresh in his mind. How he would like to discover one of those unusual nests where half a dozen or more gun crews lurked, ready to hold up that entire sector of the advancing line, so the American troops would be unable to reach their objective for that day at least.

So it was in the hope of attaining this end that he now flew to another section of the forest which he had been desirous all morning of visiting, under the impression that it might yield the bag to which he aspired in his search for game.

As they circled over the tree tops Morgan was turning his glasses to the best advantage. Jack kept trying to cover the ground systematically, and yet making numerous quick jumps so as to disconcert the enemy should a sudden fierce burst of firing announce that a nest had been located.

All at once Morgan gave a loud cry. It seemed to spell victory, and Jack instantly called out:

"Struck oil, have you, Felix? Where away does it lie?"

"Look down to the left and you'll just glimpse what seems to be the stone base of an old abandoned windmill, I think, Jack. All overgrown with weeds and brush, it is too. I saw a number of men moving about, and some of them were crouching back of their biggest machine-guns. This is one of those jumbo forts we've heard of; no mistake about it either."

"Grab off the location to a dot then, Felix, and we'll see what can be done for those waiting Yankee batteries!" snapped Jack, greatly excited, as well as pleased, by their important discovery. "Let me know when you have your landmarks, and I'll elevate, so we can get in touch with the battery observer."

"It's the king-pin of all their nests, Jack, a regular bouncer, I tell you!" cried the other, using his glasses again to advantage.

"All right then," the pilot assured him, "we'll see that their name is mud before much longer. Ready, Felix?"

Instead of giving Jack the reply which the other expected the observer gave a sudden startled yell.

"They've got us trapped, Jack! Sure they have! Look up!" came his warning shout, and as the pilot craned his neck to obey he discovered no less than three big German Gotha battleplanes hovering over them, waiting to engage them in a most unequal combat.

VII. "MOPPING 'EM UP!"

From below there suddenly burst a dangerous bombardment. The German gunners hidden in the camouflaged pile of rocks had apparently decided that the airmen in the two-seated plane hovering above had discovered their place of concealment, and, unable to endure the thought of being flanked by the oncoming boys in khaki, had opened fire.

Of course their plan was to bring down the American machine and seal the lips of those who flew in it before they could communicate the nature of their discovery to their comrades.

This made the situation doubly perilous for Jack and Morgan. If they attempted to rise, as discretion suggested, there were those three grim monster Hun Gothas waiting to envelop them with an avalanche of gunfire. This could have only one result; namely, the destruction of the plane bearing the totem of the Red Indian's head.

It was a time for quick decision. As the deadly missiles from below continued to pepper the air around them, and even beat a tattoo against the body of their plane, Jack started into a series of wigwag evolutions which he had evolved for just such a desperate situation.

This gave him a better chance, although at any second one of the flying bullets was apt to find its way aboard and do either himself or Morgan an ill turn.

Whichever way he turned so wheeled those sentry planes above. They were like a trio of hungry cats watching the twistings and turnings of a poor mouse that had its safety-hole stopped up, and could find no means of escape left open. And with three agile cats on guard what chance had little Mr. Mouse?

But then Jack Parmly had often proved himself to be one of those who refuse to call themselves beaten until the very last effort has been made. He had been in tight places before, and had always managed to wriggle out by some means or other.

Besides this, there was some hope that his predicament would be seen by other American airmen scouring around the skies, who, with the accustomed daring of their breed, would fly immediately to his relief.

Even as this thought flashed through his brain Jack believed he heard the sound of firing directly above him; though it was only because of a sudden lull in the continual fighting all through that region that he was able to discover this fact.

Then came a yell from Morgan, who, not having to manipulate the motor and handle the levers, had been better able to observe all that was going on around them.

"Shoot up, Jack? We've got to do our share in driving those Boches off!"

Yes, there had been an increase in the number of circling planes hovering over them, since Jack could now count five. All were in violent motion, circling this way, and darting the other, rising and falling in a movement only adopted when a fierce engagement was on.

Even though their flight was so rapid Jack quickly made the two newcomers out to be friends, for they handled machines similar to his own.

That opened a way for him to escape possible destruction at the hands of the gunners below, who were increasing their volume of fire. So up Jack turned the nose of his plane, and quickly reached the elevation where all this work was going on.

So the battle of the six enemy planes began, Jack immediately singling out one of the Huns for his own particular attention. Alert, eager, and fairly itching to get even with the Boche fliers for the fright they had given him, Morgan crouched in his seat, ready to start firing when the first favorable moment came along.

It must have been an inspiring sight to any who watched the fight from below; at least, if he wore the khaki of the American army boys. The Germans would hardly be so apt to suck consolation from the picture, since it early became apparent that their representatives no longer attacked with dash and enthusiasm, but seemed to be acting solely on the defensive.

They may have been veteran aces, with a long list of disabled planes to their individual credit, but there was something about the dash and vim of these Yankee fliers that combined all the better qualities of both British and French airmen, and discouraged the enemy greatly.

Jack swooped down upon his antagonist, and fired when he fancied he had the enemy in range of his machine-gun fire. The Boche on his part was reciprocating, so that the exchange of shots was mutual.

They passed at a little distance like swallows on the wing, the guns chattering and smoking, and the air filled with a shower of missiles that for the most part would be utterly wasted.

Then Morgan took up the challenge, and continued to pepper the speeding Gotha as long as it remained within range. A turn on the part of Jack put a temporary end to the bombardment. But now they were once more spinning toward the enemy.

Around them a wild scene was being enacted, with the other quartette of planes swooping down on each other.

Apparently all this work had so far been without result; but Jack could plainly see that the Huns were quite satisfied with what little they may have accomplished in the battle, and were anxious to pull out.

As if a concerted signal had been given, the three Gothas were soon in retreat. No doubt the sight drew many a hoarse, derisive yell from watching Americans below, who could not understand the feeling of extreme caution that would tempt an air pilot to turn tail and run for home when opposed on equal terms.

They made excellent speed, too, and after chasing them for a short distance the Americans turned back. There was work much more important awaiting their attention just then than following the fleeing Boche fliers to some spot, where possibly a swarm of their mates would be turned loose to cut off escape and bring the daring Americans down.

One of the two friendly machines that had so opportunely come to the relief of Jack and Morgan now approached. To the delight of Jack he recognized in the muffled figure waving a gloved hand at him no other than Harry Leroy.

"A bunch of slick runners all right, Jack!" bawled Nellie's brother, as the two planes passed not far distant from each other.

"They're all right when three to one!" answered Jack, as he circled in order to keep close to the other for a brief time.

"What luck?" demanded Harry; for of course that was the one important subject ever on their minds when thus out hunting for hidden snipers' nests.

"Got two to-day so far," called Jack. "Then came over here looking for a boss nest. Found it, too, down there; and we're going now to see what our battery boys can do with it."

"Fine work, Jack! Here's wishing you luck. We'll move along and see if we can duplicate your job!"

"Success to you!"

So they separated there, far above the seemingly endless forest where the two opposing armies were grappling in a death grip, the one bent on victory, the other striving desperately to put off the evil day as long as possible, in the hope of a break in their favor.

Jack knew what he and Morgan had next to do. It was to begin signaling to catch the attention of the observers with the American batteries, doubtless waiting impatiently for a chance such as this, and which thus far had been denied them.

He was at the proper altitude, safe from fire from below, and with all enemy planes driven off. The growl of the big guns came less furiously to their ears, so far removed from the ground were they. The incessant whir of the Liberty motor that had come from American shops and the buzz of the propellers rendered it difficult for him to hold converse with his assistant.

"Felix, have you got your bearings sized up O K?" he called out.

"I could drop a bomb for a direct hit, Jack, if I had one," came the confident answer.

"All right then; go to it."

As Morgan was the observer and signal man of the combination it now became his duty to make use of the flags intended to convey the news that one of those reported "strong nests," carrying from half a dozen of the largest Boche machine-guns all the way up to twice that, had been located.

Jack managed the machine so that his assistant might be best served. And as Morgan knew just about where to look for an answering flag he presently gave tongue in a way that told of success.

"Raised him, Jack!" he called out joyously. "Swing around more to the left and we'll be exactly over that den. There! I can drop the smoke signal now, all right, and well soon see what comes of it."

Immediately afterwards those in the distance who were eagerly watching every action of the hovering plane must have seen through their powerful glasses a trail of smoke dropping from its body. It signified that just at that moment the Yankee flier was hanging over the object to which the attention of the gunners was called.

Quickly would the necessary calculations be made, while Jack kept circling around and around, just as a buzzard might when it had located a promising feast below.

Jack, too, watched that sector as well as he could and attend to his duties at the same time. He wished he had the binoculars in his hands just then, while he steered with his knees; but it was more important that Morgan retain possession of the glasses.

A yell from the observer announced that something had happened of a pleasing character. Jack guessed its nature even before he heard the other shouting.

"They've begun business, Jack! The whole battery let loose then in concert! Say, there's yet another close by! And yes, they're breaking into the game too! Oh, you Boche, I pity you now, nix!"

Jack looked directly below. He realized that a whole flock of Yankee made shells was passing through the air, bound for the point of contact. At the same time he wondered why there had not been a single shot fired first as a feeler. The officers in charge must indeed be very confident that they had figured to a fraction to thus risk wasting precious ammunition.

A second, several of them, slipped away.

Then there came an upheaval below, followed by a succession of similar explosions that must have shaken the very earth. A dense cloud of smoke arose. Morgan now had his glasses fixed on the spot where all this furious hurricane of fire had fallen.

He did not shout, but continued to stare. The wind drifted the pall of smoke aside, and even Jack with unaided eye could determine that a marvelous change had taken place down there since last he looked.

"Let me have the glasses, Morgan!" he cried, unable to believe his eyes and wishing further confirmation.

Still silent as though awed, the observer obeyed. Jack knew from the look on the other's face about what he might expect to see even before he could raise the binoculars to his own eyes.

Then he too held his breath in very astonishment.

Never could there have been made a finer calculation than the one that sent such an avalanche of shells hurtling through several miles of space, to land exactly on a marked spot. In a thousand times the same result might not have been secured again.

Jack saw desolation down there. For a space of a hundred feet, he judged, earth and rocks and camouflage material had been thrown in every direction by the falling shells, a dozen or more in number and of the most destructive character known. A vast gaping hole told where the nest had been.

Not a single man of all those waiting Boche gunners could have escaped destruction. Jack could see the bodies of several hanging from the neighboring trees, from which in turn most of their branches had been stripped.

He turned an awe-stricken face to Morgan as he cried out:

"Send them the hold-up signal, Morgan, to tell them they've knocked the nest to flinders and that there's no need of wasting another shot on it!"

VIII. IN THE RED TRIANGLE HUT

Night had come again. The work of the day was over, and weary khaki-clad fighters could rest For they must be fit for the duties of the succeeding day, which, like all recent ones, would bring its new dangers, glories, and no doubt pain and death for untold numbers of their fellows.

Still, in the camps where they were gathered that night, it would have been hard to run across a single soldier who showed a sign of discouragement or concern. Already they bore themselves with the mien of veterans, ready to joke and laugh, and swarming to the Red Triangle huts for a breath of entertainment, a glimpse of a rosy cheeked "home girl" in the midst of all this ghastly business of tragic warfare.

There Tom found Jack and Harry when he turned up rather late that night. He, too, had had a heavy and exciting though successful day's work in the air, as had Jack. Nevertheless, on his return he had asked and received permission to absent himself from quarters for a time.

Of course there was need of consultation with the accommodating hospital nurse concerning the disposition of little Jeanne, the ward of the trio, Jack, Tom, and Nellie, and Tom did not wish to neglect his duty—nor his opportunity.

Late though it was, there still lingered a goodly crowd in the old dugout once occupied by a number of German officers, but now taken possession of by the girls and men who wore the uniforms of Y. M. C. A. workers, when Tom reached it.

An old piano had somehow been brought along, and this was in almost constant use, for numbers of the boys could play; and as for singing there was an almost continuous chorus bawling out favorite songs, such as "Over There," "Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag," "When You Come Back," and the like.

When some daring man ventured to play "Home, Sweet Home," however, not a sound was heard; and apparently many of the loudest talkers found something wonderfully important in the magazines they chanced to have before them, to judge from the way they bent persistently over while reading. But then no soldier wants his comrades to see that his eyes are swimming in tears, as pictures of those at home dawn upon his vision.

Tom quickly found his two comrades, to be instantly met with a rush of remarks that, however, fell from him as water would from a duck's back.

"You seem pretty happy, I must say!" observed Harry, grinning, for he understood what an attraction that pretty sister of his was to Tom.

"Oh, everything looks lovely, and the goose hangs high, whenever Tom has spent an hour in Nellie's company," Jack remarked, going on with the teasing.

"Seems to me, Jack," said the object of this joking, "that you're in something of the same box yourself. What important news did Bessie have in that letter you got this evening, and which you thought I didn't see you smuggle into your pocket on the sly?"

"Oh, I don't mind telling you," Jack announced smiling. "Meant to later on anyway. Why, do you know, Bessie has become a Red Triangle worker now, as she and her mother had been transferred to that service. She said there was some talk of letting them come along here to the American front, since Mrs. Gleason had expressed a wish to do her bit within hearing of the guns."

"That sounds good to me, Jack," remarked Harry.

"Do you know," added Tom, "I had a suspicion there was a hen on in that nest just from a remark Nellie made about hoping to see Bessie before long. Wouldn't explain what she meant, either; so I reckon it's a put-up job between the girls."

"Well, they have become quite fond of one another, you know," Jack suggested.

Harry pretended to look huffed.

"All very fine," he grumbled; "but where do I come in, I'd like to know?"

"Huh! what about some of those pretty French girls I've heard you raving over, Harry? You might choose one and study French under her direction. Plenty of our boys are doing it, and seem to be pleased."

"If it comes to the worst," added Jack, soberly, "he can wait for little Jeanne to grow up. I imagine she's bound to be a peach one of these days, and well worth waiting for, Harry. But, joking aside, Tom," he continued, "what's doing over there with Nellie and our little charge?"

"Oh, she's making capital progress," came the quick reply. "Told me all about it, you know."

"Sure thing, every word," put in Harry. "A whole hour it took, too, I warrant. There must have been a heap to tell."

"She's already managed to get together quite a number of things for the child," Tom went on to explain. "A pair of fairly decent shoes and some material that one of the nurses will make into a dress, for she used to be a seamstress over in the good old U. S. A. before the call came. Best of all, Nellie has found just the family to leave our ward with."

"That's news worth while," asserted Jack. "What else do you know that's interesting, old scout?"

"This family is named Desplanes," Tom continued. "They have a fine home in Paris, from which they have been kept ever since the war began, because of the Germans getting between. They are glad to take charge of your little girl, Jack, since they mean to start immediately for the capital, having only been able to get into our lines a few days back."

"Then that part of our job is settled, if you've got their Paris address!" Jack exclaimed. "The other connected with the finding of Helene is going to prove a harder task I reckon."

"Oh! I've picked up a bit of information in that direction," the newcomer told them, an announcement which of course caused Jack to look intensely interested.

He had often found himself repeating that sad message and picturing the suffering of the poor woman who, in dying, did not know what would be the fate of her twin children, thus rudely separated, the one to be carried away by a remorseless relative and the other cast adrift in the midst of the fighting zone.

And so when Tom hinted that fortune had allowed him to secure valuable information connected with the abduction of Helene Anstey Jack's interest leaped upward by bounds. The spirit of laughter passed, and he was now only alert for news that would perhaps stand them in good stead.

"Was it about that man, Von Berthold, Tom?" he demanded.

"No other," came the answer. "Nellie gave me the tip, and I made some inquiries of a prisoner she had picked out from among those who claimed to be Lorrainers and fighting for Germany against their wishes, because they were forced into it. She had dressed a wound for him, and had got to talking with him. I was able to treat him to some cigarettes, and also gave him a cake of chocolate on the sly; because that's really against orders, you know. But he promised to nibble it in secret, and not let any one see him."

"I'm really ashamed of you, Tom!" said Harry, shaking his forefinger in a threatening fashion, and pretending to scowl. "A fine example to set to other pilots in our unit, or any of the doughboys in fact. But then you'll claim you had a good object in doing it; and of course circumstances alter army rules, as well as ordinary cases. Go on, and talk some more."

"Well, from this prisoner I learned that General von Berthold's first name is really Anton, which you remember she used in telling of his carrying little Helene off."

"We'll call that point settled, then," affirmed Jack decisively. "This German officer whose brilliant work has often been mentioned in dispatches to the Paris newspapers, is Jeanne's uncle. What else did you pick up?"

"He's quartered right now in an old chateau on a height that overlooks this whole sector of country, though some miles beyond the Argonne forest," explained the one who was telling the story.

"For a short time only," grimly announced Harry, "because the doughboys have got the Boche on the run, and before long we'll see him skipping out for Sedan and the border. I suppose when this famous general does have to give up his fine chateau he'll send it sky-high with explosives, as they always do, so as to leave nothing that is French made to comfort their enemies."

Tom nodded his head in assent.

"Do you know this Lorrainer told me that had already been arranged," he hastened to say. "He himself had been one of a party of engineers to plant terrible mines secretly in certain places under the walls, so the whole building could be blown up in a flash. But that cunning old fox managed it so that no one but himself knows how to start things moving."

"Why should he do a thing like that?" asked the puzzled Harry.

"Oh, it seems that a good many of the Boche soldiers have no particular love for General von Berthold," Tom answered briskly, as though he had anticipated that very question and was prepared to meet it.

"I see. He's afraid that if they chanced to know the combination," chuckled Harry Leroy, "they might be tempted some fine night, when he was asleep in his featherbed, to give him a rise in the world, since no one would be any the wiser. Yes, he's a sharp old duck, believe me!"

"I wonder," remarked Tom, "if he could have taken little Helene to that chateau and is waiting for a chance to send her on to Munich, or some other German capital."

"Do you know, I've got a big hunch that way, Tom!" Jack exclaimed. "And I mean, for one, to take the very first chance that comes along to run over back of the Hun lines so as to find if I can the chateau."

"Sainte Mershon, I learned the place is called," said Tom. "And I'll do the same, boy."

"You said it was located on a height, so that it commanded an extensive view, didn't you?"

"Yes, that's what the prisoner told me. Said it looked very much like a lot of castles he knew about along the Rhine. We've all seen pictures of those, so it's easy to guess what they resemble. But he also said the building had been twice dynamited, though only one section was in ruins."

"If either of us is lucky enough to make a find, remember, Tom, nothing must be done until we've had a chance to talk matters over."

"Oh, sure thing," affirmed Tom. "I wouldn't dream of trying to cut in and steal your thunder Jack. Jeanne is your find, and we're pals in this game, as we've always been since we were kids together in the U. S. A. When the hour strikes for General von Berthold to have uninvited guests drop down on him from the skies, we'll be in cahoots, as usual. And you may lead off."

Jack looked relieved. Apparently he had begun to suspect dimly that his ambitious chum might have thought to cut the ground out from under his, Jack's, feet, by planning a bold raid on the chateau, spurred on to such a rash deed by his ardent desire to impress Nellie Leroy.

Tom began to stretch himself.

"Feeling some tired after such a rushing day's business," he told them, in a vein of apology. "And I think, mates, I'll turn in after I've munched a cake or two and had a drink of lemonade. Join me in a glass, will you, Jack, Harry? I feel like treating to-night, I'm so perfectly satisfied with the way things are going."

The other two exchanged looks and chuckles, which, however, Tom pretended not to notice; for he had made up his mind not to be disturbed any longer because of his comrades' jokes concerning his warm friendship for Harry's sister. What boy among the tens of thousands of Americans in that sector but would be pleased to have such a delightful "sister" with whom to hold occasional interesting chats when opportunity arose?

They accepted the invitation, however, for really it was rather warm in the Red Triangle dugout, mostly underground, just as the fleeing Hun officers had left it when compelled to run. Somehow those enterprising Y. M. C. A. workers managed to keep constantly on hand a supply of certain articles deemed necessary to the comfort of the fighting men; and lemons stood near the first in this preferred list.

When coming in on a hot day from hard work in the trenches, or after creeping through tangled undergrowth where not a breath of breeze stirred, with their nerves strained every second of the time, nothing could revive the flagging energies more quickly than a lemonade mixed by the dextrous fingers of a clever girl in khaki, a sunny smile on her face, and a love for everything connected with America in her warm heart.

Those huts erected by the Red Triangle corps, what oceans of comfort they brought to the boys over there! Sometimes they were large and commodious, possessing almost every conceivable means for gratifying the normal appetite of a healthy-minded but tired and homesick soldier boy. Then again it might be, as in the present instance, that circumstances prevented any display, and the restoration bivouac had to be opened under rather discouraging conditions, while the supplies also ran low, for it was not easy to get them so far up along the line.

But the main thing was that there could be found the cheerful, never-failing services of those who gave every minute of their time to working for the boys wearing the khaki, and braving death itself under Old Glory.

The night had up to then been fairly quiet.

Tired after the day's fighting, both armies lay down to rest, looking forward to a renewal of hostilities when another day dawned. Doubtless the retreating Huns would utilize this time in preparing many more of the machine-gun nests, each of which was calculated to hold up the advancing Americans for a certain period.

As for the Americans trying to advance during the night, that was utterly out of the question, since under those trees a pall lay that might hide any number of deadly traps, into which they, in their ignorance, would surely stumble.

The three Air Service boys were still standing chatting with the girl in khaki, whom they knew very well, and sipping their lemonade when, without warning, there broke out a terrible din. The ground under their feet seemed to shake with the force of an explosion, which they realized must be quite near at hand.

Another explosion immediately followed, and then still more in irregular succession. The boys had learned by now to tell what such explosions signified, so they looked at each other aghast, and Jack cried out:

"The Huns are making an air raid on our lines back here! They must be in great force, too, with all those bombs dropping! Tom, didn't it strike you those explosions came mostly from the quarter where our Red Cross field hospital lies?"

Tom felt a cold chill, the same thought having gripped him.

IX. THE NIGHT RAID

"It struck me," exclaimed Harry, amidst the Babel of sounds that had broken out all around them, girls and soldiers chattering like magpies in concert, "that most of the explosions came from over where our hangars are strung out! Yes, there they start up gain! Boys, I tell you it's a big raid on our aviation camp! Let's chase over there!"

They all seemed of one mind, for hardly had Harry shrilled this proposition than the three of them bolted from the exit of the hut and commenced a mad dash through the intervening woods, heading for the opening utilized by the air squads for their canvas hangars. The successive bursts of flame accompanying those frequent explosions benefited them in one way, since they were enabled to see fairly well and thus avoid pitfalls, although once or twice there was a grunt as a member of the group struck some obstacle which he had not noticed soon enough.

It did not take them long to cover the intervening ground, for by rare good luck the rest-house of the Y. M. C. A. happened to be within reasonable reach of the aviation field.

A new development in affairs had by then taken place. There was a rattle of machine-gun fire from high up in the air that seemed very significant to the Air Service boys.

"Some of the fellows were on the ground—went up—engaged the Boche! Oh, boy, how I envy them!"

Jack gasped out these words as he ran on. He was short of breath, or he might have said more. The others did not reply, partly for the same reason, and then again because of similar views. Knowing the intrepid nature of the boys so well, any one of their friends would have felt confident that both Tom and Harry were feeling jealous of those whom fortune had picked out to shower favors on by allowing them to be the first aloft and after the Boche. But now they had reached the field.

Everything seemed in the greatest confusion there—men dashing this way and that, yelling, asking questions, giving orders to hostlers, getting machines ready for flight, preparing to go aloft to share in the pursuit of the enemy planes.

There had been some damage done, Tom could see; just how much it was impossible for him even to guess. But several bombs had struck close enough to smash a number of planes, as the débris scattered around disclosed. Great was the relief of the three pilots on learning that their machines had not been in the list of those scrapped. It might have taken many days before they could be supplied with fresh "mounts," such was the demand upon the cargo space of the French railway leading to this sector of the front. That would surely have been considered little short of a calamity by such ambitious fighters as Jack Parmly, Tom Raymond, and Harry Leroy.

"No observer on hand, Jack. Would you mind going up with me?" Tom called out almost immediately.

Nothing would please Jack better than being once more the flying companion of his dearest comrade. To get a chance at the German airmen he stood ready to accept any position offered him. And, besides, he would have the handling of one gun, at any rate.

"You'd better believe I will, Tom!" he cried excitedly. "Harry, there's your assistant, with your plane ready. Get going, fellows!"

The racket still continued above, though with a fresh American air pilot leaving the ground every quarter minute the chances were the Huns would soon conclude that their usefulness was past in this neighborhood, and run for home like a herd of wild horses in full flight.

Both boys earnestly hoped the fight would carry on until they had been given a chance to get in a few shots, even if prevented from bagging any game.

"Those Huns must be taught that it isn't going to be a safe thing for them to come knocking at our door under the belief that no one is at home, and pickings will be easy," muttered Jack.

Away they sped, mounting from the ground as soon as free. Yet Tom knew better than to take too many chances. Night flying was always bound to carry more risk than when the daylight held good; so it would be the utmost folly to increase the peril in any unnecessary way.

It was a time when a pilot had full need of every faculty. To the right of them came flashes of flame accompanied by the spiteful crackle of gunfire. Rival marksmen were trying to riddle one another, sometimes flying perilously close in their eagerness.

Great shapes were coursing this way and that like giant bats. Now came a dazzling flash from far down below. The Huns had not as yet entirely exhausted their supply of bombs, and were endeavoring to make every shot count before turning homeward.

Tom fancied he could locate the Hun machine from which that bomb had been shot downward like a projectile from a catapult, passing through a tube with a forward slant in the bottom of the big bombing plane.

"Over to your right, Tom!" shrieked Jack just then, showing that he, too, had guessed the same thing, for already was the pilot in the act of swinging around in that direction.

The Boche must have sensed their coming, for he started to flee; but they were on his trail almost immediately, going like the wind. Tom opened on him, as he had charge of the bow gun. He worked the mechanism with all his old-time skill, not showing signs of any undue haste or excitement. When in the course of the chase he found that he was getting a bit too close, for the bullets were cutting the air all around them, he changed his direction.

Nor was Jack at all slow to seize upon the splendid opening which this fresh maneuver afforded him. He took up the refrain just where Tom left off; and, if anything, showed more vim in his bombardment, for he did not have the manipulation of the plane to interfere with his work with the gun.

The Hun dived and squirmed, in the hopes of throwing off such a persistent pursuer, but Tom kept after him as if grimly determined to bring one of the night-bombers down, even if he had to follow the other to his own line.

That sort of excitement was meat and drink to those daring fellows, who lived in anticipation of engaging in just such combats. Tame indeed did that day seem to them upon which they could not exchange shots with at least one enemy pilot.

Some one had met with disaster over to the left, for Tom saw a flash of descending flame and had a vague view of a figure jumping hopelessly from the doomed plane, having found means to cut loose from his safety belt. It was only "jumping from the frying pan into the fire," however, for death in another form awaited him, the ground being a quarter of a mile below.

At one moment it happened that both boys were firing together, the position of the Yankee plane allowing this unusual demonstration. And as to which of them was responsible for the bullet that sent the Boche downward in erratic circles, like a wounded duck, he trying desperately to gain an even keel before it was too late, was always fated to be a little bone of contention between Tom and Jack.

X. A SURPRISE FOR JACK

The two Air Service boys followed the enemy down with a risky nose-dive, determined to make sure that he did not get away; and so were able to see him strike amidst the upper branches of the trees with a horrible crash. They themselves had a close call, and only for Tom's clever handling of his machine might have shared the fate of their victim.

Marking the spot as best they could in the darkness of the night, the boys again started upward, in the hope that there might still be other work for them to do.

"Too late!" called out Jack. "The Boche has had a stomachful and is beating it for home like all get-out. He's lost two planes and pilots, which is a heap more'n he counted on giving up for the fun of bombing our hangars. Shall we call it off and go in, Tom?"

Indeed, there was nothing else for them to do. The enemy had been forced to run before he could have dropped more than half of his stock of destructive bombs.

Back to the hut went the three boys. Harry was limping, a fact Tom noticed for the first time.

"Look here, did you run up against a Boche bullet while you were chasing around up there, Harry?" he asked solicitously.

"Not quite so bad as that, I'm glad to tell you," came the reply, as Harry stooped to rub the calf of his left leg gently. "But something struck me a nasty blow. Don't know exactly what it was, but I warrant I'll have a nice black-and-blue mark to show for it. Felt mighty queer, too, just as if you'd gone and slapped me with a lathe, flat-side out."

"I reckon," spoke up Jack, "it was a bullet striking the part of your machine that you've got sheathed in steel. You must have been resting your leg against it just where the Boche bullet struck."

"Now, strange to say, I hadn't thought of that explanation before, Jack. But I wouldn't be surprised if you'd guessed the answer. But it stung like everything for a while, and feels sore still."

"But for all that you've cause for being satisfied, Harry," Tom told him.

"Considering what would have happened to me if I didn't have that sheathing outside the frame of my plane, I guess I ought to be grateful. Do you know only to-day I was figuring whether it paid for the extra weight, and had nearly made up my mind to have it ripped off. Nothing doing about that from this time on. Saved me a bad leg I tell you, boys."

Arriving at the Y. M. C. A. shelter the boys halted at the door. It was so cozy in there the boys could always find some good excuse for bending their footsteps in that direction; and also loitering after they had finished the business that took them to the hut. So no one was surprised, or disappointed, to hear Jack call out:

"I think I upset my glass of lemonade in my hurry to clear out; and as the thirst seems worse now than ever I reckon I'll have to indulge in another of the same kind, if Miss Sallie has the fixings. Will you join me, fellows?"

"Not me, for one, Jack," said Harry. "I got all of mine down without spilling a drop. I'm not so keen as you about lemonade. But I'll go along, because these rest places are the only homelike signs we run across on the front these days."

Jack thereupon gave Tom a sly nudge in the ribs.

"I was right, it seems," he managed to whisper aside. "Keep your eye on that blue-eyed Miss Sallie, and watch for any tell-tale signs in Harry's face when he's chatting with her. But she's a mighty nice girl, all the same, and I don't blame him. Comes of a fine family, too, I'm told."

Sallie, however, was only "conspicuous by her absence," as Jack put it. In fact she had retired to seek rest, for another day's arduous work came with the morning.

Tom, as did Jack, ordered another glass of lemonade, but drank only a small portion.

"Somehow or other I seem to have lost my taste for the stuff," he explained, when this fact was drawn to his attention by Jack; "or else this girl hasn't learned the wrinkle of mixing a drink as well as Miss Sallie has. But there's something bothering me, and I was just going to ask Harry if he didn't want to take a run over to the field hospital with me."

"What's that?" exclaimed the one mentioned. "You don't think any of those Boche bombs could have fallen there, do you, Tom?"

Jack looked worried at these words.

"Well, it's to be hoped not," replied Tom. "But somehow lately the fiends have taken a savage delight in bombing British hospitals and also sinking their hospital ships when crossing the Channel, in spite of their being marked and running with all lights on. As I said before, I'm worried some. Will you go with me, Harry?"

"But we couldn't undertake the trip without special permission, don't you know?" objected the other; though his manner told how gladly he would accompany Tom if given half a chance.

"Oh, I've got my permit, which is good until one a. m. to-night," explained Tom. "And as you're still limping some I can manage that you're allowed to keep me company; only you must make sure to let the hospital surgeon take a look at that leg of yours while we're there, and have it bound up. I must save my face, understand?"

Harry gave Tom an eloquent look.

"You are certainly the limit, Tom," he avowed. "But I've always heard that a poor excuse was better than none at all. So, as you've got me anxious about my sister, why, yes, I'll be glad to go along with you."

"How about you, Jack?" Tom queried, turning on the remaining member of the trio.

"Thanking you all the same I believe I'll stay here for a while longer, as two ought to be enough to see the job through. The raid was not in that direction, so the hospital is safe. Jeanne will be asleep so we can't see her, or else I would go. No, I'll stay here, and when I get good and tired I'll drop over to quarters, and hit the hay for a sound sleep."

"I reckon we can trust you. Especially," added Tom, with an eye on Harry's face, "since Miss Sallie has disappeared for the night."

When he saw Harry turn red Tom felt satisfied that he and Jack had indeed guessed the other's secret, though he said nothing to indicate the fact.

Jack saw the two depart, and wandered here and there, chatting with some of the boys, who evidently meant to hang around until the last minute before closing time came.

He found himself yawning several times, and admitted that he would be foolish to spend any more time in trying to keep awake, when even a half-way decent bunk awaited his occupancy.

He had reached the door in the act of departing when he became aware of the fact that there was an unusual bustle without. On looking to see what it meant Jack found that a Red Cross ambulance had drawn up alongside the dugout entrance. Some persons were issuing forth from the interior of the motor vehicle.

Jack knew that these long distance ambulances, after taking a load of badly injured fighting men all the way it might be to Paris, on the return journey would often be loaded down with fresh surgical supplies. Yes, and on several occasions he had even known them to bring new nurses to the fighting front, to take the place of those who had been injured or fallen sick.

As everything of that sort had a special interest for Jack, he watched several trim figures emerge from the motor transport vehicle. All of a sudden he gave a start, straightened himself up, looked eagerly again, rubbing his eyes at the same time, and then with an exclamation hurried forward.

A girl in khaki garments that told of the Y. M. C. A. worker had just alighted. She was followed by an older woman, who seemed to be the last of the quartette and who was evidently in charge of the detachment, for Jack saw that the others deferred to her judgment.

In half a dozen strides he was over at the spot.

"Bessie!"

The girl with the rosy cheeks and bright eyes turned quickly on hearing him call this name softly. A smile flashed over her face, and instinctively her hand was extended cordially:

"Oh, Jack, how glad I am to see you!" she exclaimed.

Jack then greeted the older woman. After a few words Mrs. Gleason said:

"I hardly know what to do, as we ought to be at the field hospital, and here the driver has dropped us, naturally from our costumes, before the Y. M. C. A. hut. But of course you can advise me."

"Certainly I can," Jack hastened to say. "I'll see that he takes you on as soon as he unloads some things I notice he has for the people here. Yes, and for fear that you get lost I'll try to go along with you, for there's the officer who can give me permission to leave quarters."

"Where are Tom and Harry?" asked Bessie, for she noticed that the nurses who had also come in the ambulance were listening with smiles to this conversation, and it embarrassed her.

"Over at the hospital. We'll possibly meet them there," replied Jack. "But I'll tell you all about it while on the way, Bessie."

XI. THE PROWLERS

The officer must have thought there was a great attraction over at the field hospital for certain members of his air squadron, considering the frequency of the calls upon him for permission to visit there.

However, he granted the request without hesitation, though Jack thought there was a quizzical gleam in his eyes as he turned and took a good look at the younger of the "friends" whom the lad said he wished to pilot to her temporary quarters.

Besides, the two Air Service boys happened to be prime favorites of his, and consequently he was in a humor to go far out of his way to grant any reasonable request either of them might make.

So presently they were seated once more in the ambulance along with the nurses and heading for the spot where the humble sheds and tents stood which constituted the American field hospital in that sector of the Argonne.

"Now tell me all that's happened since I saw you last, Jack," demanded Bessie, with a little show of authority that amused, yes, and also pleased the other; for boys like to be domineered over at times by a pretty tyrant.

"Couldn't begin to do it in this little ride, Bessie," he assured her. "But I'll take the first chance I can find to spin the whole yarn."

"I'm certain you boys have been carrying on up here with your usual rashness," she told him. "I've had my heart in my throat, so to speak, every day, when the news would filter in from our front, together with a partial list of the lost, for fear I'd see one of your names there. And when some particularly daring feat of a Yankee air pilot was mentioned I could just picture you or Tom as the hero."

At that Jack laughed, although feeling highly complimented.

"Thank you, Bessie, for being such a fine little champion!" he exclaimed. "But we don't claim to be the equal of a lot of the clever aces now strafing the Boche along our American sector. Of course we meet with our little adventures in the course of our daily work; but they've been mere trifles beside some of the fine things others of the boys have done."

"Well," Bessie told him, "knowing you as I do, Jack, I wouldn't accept your judgment in the matter. Your friends are better able to decide that."

"Here we are already at the hospital," put in Mrs. Gleason. "I couldn't write to Nellie just when we were coming, for that depended on when we could get transportation. But she had told me she could put us up temporarily until we found quarters with the Y. M. C. A. outfit. She will be surprised to see us, and I hope pleased, too."

"I warrant you she will be delighted," asserted Jack confidently.

Great was the surprise of Nellie and Tom when Jack and the Gleasons burst upon them. Harry was at another part of the temporary makeshift building talking to an orderly at the time.

Such subdued chattering as followed. Jack, seeing that Bessie and Mrs. Gleason were very tired, did not mean to linger long. Bessie would probably speedily take up her duties at the hut, and consequently he could see her every evening if he chose.

So the three boys a little later on once more turned their faces in the direction of the camp. As they walked along they found much to talk about, although it might have been noticed that Tom and Harry did most of the exchanging of opinions, Jack seemingly being too much engrossed with his thoughts, a fact that caused the others to pass many a significant glance back and forth.

It chanced that some question arose, bringing out quite a warm discussion concerning a certain appliance which Harry was trying out on his battleplane, and of which a friend was the inventor.

"I've tested it twice now, Tom, and no matter what you say I believe it will do the business," Harry stoutly affirmed.

"That may be," Tom answered him. "Mind I'm not stubborn enough to condemn a thing I don't quite understand; but I'd want to be shown before I owned up beaten in the argument. Somehow, it doesn't seem possible to me that it can work."

"That's what they all told Columbus before he started on his trip into that unknown western sea," jeered Harry. "Poor old Fulton, too, was laughed at when he said he could make a boat go through the water without sails or oars. And what of Morse sending telegrams hundreds of miles by using a wire and a battery?"

"Oh, I know that's so," retorted Tom, unwilling to back down. "But I refuse to believe this will work automatically without ever a hitch. An air pilot's life hangs in the balance, and if it fails to make connections it's good-night for him."

"I warrant I can convince you inside of five minutes after you've examined the contrivance!"

"All right then, I'll take you up on that."

"When will you go to my hangar with me?" demanded the other, at which Tom laughingly answered:

"Any time you say—right away, if you feel like it. I'm a firm believer in the old saying, 'Never put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day.' Besides, Harry, I admit that you've got my curiosity aroused."

"Call it a bargain, then!" snapped the other, not to be outdone. "Won't take twenty minutes in all, and perhaps I can give you something to sleep over."

"Seems to me," Jack remarked, with a yawn, "you fellows are bound to keep on the go all night long. What with that raid, and our chase after the Hun, then the trip to the field hospital for various purposes, and now back once more to the hangars, just to settle a disputed question, you're keeping things moving pretty well."

"Oh, well," remarked Tom, "you can climb into your little bed, such as it is in these strenuous days, Jack—and dream."

Jack did not reply. Perhaps he considered that it would be wise not to appear to notice these sly thrusts on the part of his chum. Perhaps he did not care who noticed that he and Bessie were such good friends.

So when they arrived in camp he turned aside to seek his sleeping place under a khaki-colored tent, while the other boys continued along the trail leading to the field of the hangars, which had so recently been the objective of the Boche bombing raid.

It took the boys considerably longer to pass from one to the other place than on the occasion of their last trip; but then the night now was comparatively quiet, and no hostile squadron hovered overhead to drop terrible engines of destruction from the sky and arouse a furious bombardment in return, from the batteries of anti-aircraft guns below.

Harry was still feeling ugly toward the enemy who could show such disregard for all the accepted rules of civilized warfare. He continued to vent these feelings as he walked along, unable to get it out of his mind. But this could be understood since he had a sister in an exposed hospital, whose life was in danger from the barbaric acts of the Hun fliers.

"They seem nowadays to take a savage delight in bombing hospitals, and then finding all sorts of excuses for doing such a thing," he told Tom. "I declare, they put me in mind of a cruel wolf more than anything else."

"On my part," his companion immediately asserted, "I'd liken them to a mad dog, snapping and snarling as he runs along the street, but it shows how desperate they feel their cause to be."

"Guess you're right, Tom. I humbly apologize to the wolf," chuckled the other quickly. "He's had a bad name out West, but on the whole those cow-punchers must call him a clean fighter alongside some of these Huns."

"Well, here we are at the field," observed Tom. "Now I'm waiting to be shown, if I'm not from Missouri. And, Harry, understand that I'm open to conviction. If I find that you've got something wonderful here, I'll frankly acknowledge the fact, and eat humble pie."

"I know you will. That's why I'm so eager to show you what a fine thing my friend Jason has got up in this little trick. My hangar lies over this way. Come along and——"

Harry stopped in the middle of the sentence, stopped walking too, and laid a hand on his companion's arm.

"What did you see?" asked Tom in a whisper; for somehow he sensed the fact that Harry had made some sort of discovery calculated to thrill them both.

"Stand still, Tom!" hissed the other. "I didn't like the way that chap dodged down over there. Couldn't have been one of the guards, for they stick to their posts. I wonder now if one of those Boche planes dropped a spy close to our field here!"

The idea was in line with Tom's reasoning. According to his mind the Germans were getting desperate, and ready to attempt the rashest of enterprises in the hope of checking this daily advance of the Yankees under Pershing.

As much of the success of the latter depended on the work of their flying squads in discovering the hidden machine-gun nests, and betraying their position to the gunners, it stood to reason that the Germans felt an ever growing hatred toward the airmen. Hence that night raid which had been so neatly parried. Yes, Tom could easily believe what his comrade suggested.

"Show me where you saw the sneak, Harry," he pleaded, as they continued to crouch in the semi-gloom; for after that recent attack from the skies almost every light about the aviation field had been extinguished, and they felt obliged to depend on the stars to show them where the various hangars lay.

"Notice that extra high hangar over there," came the soft reply. "That's Beresford's, you know, where he keeps his monster four-man plane. The Huns may have got wind of something unusual, and are plotting to destroy his jumbo aircraft before he smothers them in a fight. There, did you see that again?"

"It was a man slipping across from one shadow to another, as sure as anything," breathlessly admitted the second watcher.

"No fellow would act that way unless he wanted to keep from being seen, would he?" asked Harry.

"You're right there. Oh! I saw a second one follow him then, Harry!"

"Yes, there's a pair of the creepers. That makes me believe more than ever they were aboard one of those bombing planes, Tom."

"It might be they fell when one of the Hun raiding planes was knocked out," suggested the other, as an idea struck him. "Only one went down in flames, I remember now. Those in the other may have managed to make a safe landing, and bent on hitting us a crack before trying to get back to their lines, they've crept into the camp here."

"Carrying some grenades, I'd like to wager, which they can use in kicking up a big row, under cover of which they'll scoot off," Harry went on.

"We must put a peg in their plans then," whispered Tom. "It'd be a shame to let them do what their pilots failed in, and blow up a part of our hangar field here."

"If they do they'll go up with the planes then!" Harry gritted between his set teeth. "Come, let's move on and corner the Huns!"

This suited Tom. Discretion might have caused them to alarm the camp and in this way cause the prowlers to disappear. But ambition, on the other hand, had fired the hearts of the two boys. They saw an opportunity to get in a telling blow by capturing those two spies. It was a chance to gain a little fresh glory, as well as to protect the monster plane of Beresford.

Accordingly they commenced to move forward, bending low and taking advantage of every dense shadow that came in their way. Their objective was the hangar that afforded shelter during the night to the novel and as yet untried monster plane, of which so much was expected, and rumors concerning which might have even sifted into the enemy lines.

Of course both Tom and Harry were keenly on the alert for the first fresh sign of the prowling enemy, whose designs they had set out to balk. Very probably the Huns would resist desperately, and there might be a fight. Tom felt his heart beat tumultuously, but such a thing as fear did not enter into his calculations.

XII. A LIVELY CHASE

"They've gone," presently whispered Tom, in a disappointed tone.

"Only hiding somewhere near by," Harry assured him, equally careful to lower his voice. "We'll begin to circle around, and presently rout them out. Be ready to jump the first chance you get, and let out a whoop at the same time. It'll give 'em a shock, and start 'em to running. Then we'll soon have a pack on their heels."

"What if they use their trench grenades on us?" asked Tom.

"Not likely to except as a last resort. But we've got to take the chances. Dodge, that's all. Now to swing around the big hangar."

Harry squeezed his companion's arm while saying this. Both of them were fairly quivering with the excitement, just as highly strung race horses can be seen quivering while prancing up and down awaiting the tap of the bell that summons them to the wire for the start.

It was not pitch-dark, but even the possessor of keen eyesight would have had to look closely in order to make certain that a moving object was a human being and not a dog.

Harry's surmise proved to be well founded, for they quickly discovered a suspicious movement close to the large hangar. Yes, the two Hun spies were undoubtedly there, and already busily engaged in doing something that could only mean trouble for the American escadrille.

Closer the pair of watchers crept. They could now hear the men whispering as they worked, and Tom even believed he caught a guttural German word used. This convinced him their theory was founded on fact, and that these were secret enemies in the camp.

Another half minute and he felt Harry nudge him. That meant the other believed the time had arrived for them to make their leap; and when he felt his companion start Tom stirred himself.

Both let out a yell as they sprang forward. Tom more than half expected to hear an explosion, thinking the Huns, on finding themselves caught in the act, would fire their grenades promptly.

Nothing of the kind came about. Instead both men instantly dropped flat and started to roll away with incredible swiftness, as though escape was the first thought in their minds.

Tom hurled himself through space. His intention was to pin one of the spies to the ground and try to hold him there until help came. Their outcries would of course arouse every man within hundreds of yards of the spot, and lights must soon be brought to bear on the scene.

Although Tom's calculations may have been all right, he did not meet with as much success as he had probably anticipated. Perhaps the wary Boche guessed what was coming; at any rate he succeeded in squirming from under, and when Tom landed it was only to feel the other rolling out of his reach.

But he went after him like lightning, bent on attaining his goal.

The Hun was scrambling desperately in the endeavor to get on his feet. Tom hurled him over, and closed with him. Finding his escape thus cut off, the other commenced to fight like a tiger, clawing and struggling furiously.

They had it "hammer-and-tongs" for a brief space of time. Then Tom slipped and lost his grip, upon which the other rolled over several times, got to his knees, then his feet, and started to run.

But he counted without reckoning on the staying qualities of the American. Tom had always been called a "sticking-plaster" by his fellow players on the football field. He was not to be counted out of the game until the last whistle sounded and the referee's falling hand closed the fun.

So he was after his man with grim determination not to let him get away. Having gone to so much trouble, and received in addition several scratches in the contest, he meant to keep everlastingly at it.

The Boche dodged to one side, as there were men running toward them, and already several lights had sprung up. Tom was close at his heels, and gaining rapidly, being spurred on by an ambition to complete the good work he and Harry had started.

He saw the spy glance back over his shoulder. The situation must have appeared very grave to the other, who could expect to meet with short shrift if caught in the act of trying to destroy the hangars and planes of the American aviators in this bold fashion.

Just then Tom saw the man raise his arm. Guessing what he intended to do, the Yankee air pilot dodged just in time. Some object went hissing past, close to his head. An instant later there was a loud explosion in his rear that seemed to make the very air quiver.

Of course the Boche had hurled a grenade with the intention of making further pursuit on the part of his persistent adversary impossible.

Tom hoped that was the extent of his supply of such ammunition, for he might not be quite so successful in avoiding the bomb another time.

Again was the fleeing spy compelled to whirl aside because of threatening peril ahead. Dodging in and out between the khaki-colored canvas field hangars he sought desperately to throw Tom off his track; but no hound ever followed its quarry with more pertinacity than the Yankee air pilot followed now.

Then something happened. Tom came in collision with a runner, so that the two of them fell headlong to the ground. By instinct Tom hugged the other in his arms. He suspected on the spur of the moment that this might be the other spy, trying to elude Harry, and cutting across his track by the merest chance.

The fellow struggled furiously, but Tom managed to get a good hold on him, and kept it tenaciously. As the other was also clutching him his further pursuit of the fleeing spy seemed doomed to failure; and so Tom felt that the only thing left was to make sure of this party.

"Hey, Tom, let go! You're choking me!" came a voice that electrified him, and caused him to release his clutch.

After all it was Harry upon whom he had fallen, Harry who having lost all track of his man was rushing wildly this way and that in hope of once again getting in touch with the fellow.

"Quick, before it's too late, join me!" shrilled Tom, scrambling to his feet again as best he could, and feeling angry because of this ridiculous accident. "There he goes, Harry! After him again!"

So they both started once more to run at top speed. The agile spy had been able to put considerable distance between them while his pursuers struggled on the ground, and seemed likely to escape. But there was one thing that stood in his way.

Men were running this way and that in every direction, calling to one another, and trying to understand what all the row was about. A squad of oncoming hostlers blocked his passage. They evidently were beginning to get light on the situation, for discovering the panting runner they now set up a concerted shout.

This compelled the hunted Boche to turn again on his heel, and so he lost a portion of his previous gain. Tom took fresh heart on seeing this. Given one or two such lifts as this, and he believed he would again come to hand grips with the fellow. And with Harry close at his heels he fancied the next encounter would surely terminate badly for the Hun spy.

"Spread out some, Harry!" he managed to shout.

His object in saying this was to make it more difficult for the Boche to hold his own when necessity compelled him to veer to one side. They dodged the hangars that barred the way, running in and out of the lines with the swiftness of a hare followed by the eager hounds.

Once a waiting figure tried to bar the path of the spy, only to be promptly bowled over. Desperation nerved the arm that struck that blow. The German knew that his chances were almost at the zero mark, and for the time being he was like a wolf at bay, ready to snap right and left and do what damage he could before yielding himself a prisoner.

Once more Tom had made a gain. The Fates were favoring him, it seemed, and with set teeth he kept up the hot chase.

Suddenly the Hun collapsed.

Tom almost fell over him as he ran on; and when Harry came up was bending above the spy, muttering to himself after the manner of a sadly disappointed person.

"What rotten luck for us, after all our work, Harry!" he complained, to the utter bewilderment of his comrade.

"I don't get your meaning, Tom!" exclaimed Harry. "This is one of the Huns, all right, and we've got him at last. What is there to kick about, I'd like to know?"

"Why, don't you understand? He's wounded!" said Tom scornfully.

"Wounded! How?" echoed the other, still groping for the truth.

"Somebody shot him in the leg!" explained Tom, in disgust. "Just as I was bound to jump him in another ten seconds! Did you ever hear of such tough luck? Took the wind right out of our sails, he did, by using his gun. If he'd put a bullet in my leg I could hardly feel madder, for a fact."

Harry, however, quickly chuckled, as though he did not look at the matter in the same way as his chum seemed to.

"Oh, well, the main thing isn't that we'd get a little glory from the capture of the Hun," he said, "but that their desperate game has been blocked. But this chap seems to be groaning as if suffering, Tom. He ought to be taken care of, Boche or not."

"Yes, that's right, Harry," added the other, for the time being crushing down his disappointment.

As some of the attendants of the aviation field came up just at that moment there was need for explanations. Among them Tom noticed one who, as he well knew, had charge of the hangars during the night.

"Lieutenant Simmons, here's a Boche spy who, with a companion, was trying to bomb the big Beresford plane. Sorry we couldn't round up both of them. This fellow has been shot, and ought to have attention. Now, Harry, if you don't mind, we'll step around to your hangar and look into the little job that brought us over here from the camp."

Tom really wished to get away from the crowd that was gathering. He had no liking for being made an object of special interest. Although always eager to attempt unusual exploits, it was only to please himself, and not because of any reward or a morbid desire to be looked on as a hero.

Harry was not quite as diffident, and might have liked to linger a bit to explain further how they had managed to discover the creeping figures, and, having their suspicions aroused, closed in on them.

"I can see you later, Lieutenant, and answer any questions you may want to ask about this stuff," he remarked, as he followed Tom away from the group.

Tom was still "huffy" as Harry called it. He seemed to feel that the ambitious marksman who had taken a pot-shot at the runner ahead had really cheated him out of half the pleasure accompanying the capture of the spy.

"I heard one big splash," Harry said, "which I take it was made by a trench grenade. Did that Boche try to knock you out, Tom?"

"Oh, he let loose with one of his sort, but it was the easiest thing going to duck under. He's got a lot to learn about flinging those little knockers underhand. It takes a baseball pitcher to do the trick right. How about your man, Harry?"

The other gave a grunt of disgust.

"Nothing doing with that slick dodger, I tell you, Tom. He must have been a premium sprinter when at home, for the way he dodged in and out made my brain reel. I kept after him as best I could, but, shucks! he was in another class from me. And so I lost him in the shuffle. He disappeared just like a wisp of smoke in the breeze."

"But you were still running like a hare when we banged into each other, unless I'm greatly mistaken," continued Tom humorously.

"Sure I was! Trying to get a fresh glimpse of my duck. When I hit you I thought it was that Boche, and then a light fell on your face, coming from that head-lamp on a motor truck some one suddenly turned on. I reckon I'll have a beautiful lump on my forehead where I struck against a pole while running. It knocked me flat, and that was when I lost my man."

Tom now began to laugh.

"A pretty lively skirmish, all told, when you come to think of it," he observed. "I'll have to forget about that chap who was too quick on the trigger, and only add up results. One Boche spy captured, wounded; and the other gets away. But he's had his scare good and hard, and there's little danger of his giving us any more trouble."

Whatever became of the captured Boche neither of them ever knew. Perhaps he was simply taken to the hospital and treated for his wound, as so many of his fellow Huns had been; and then again did time permit and opportunity arise he might be tried by drumhead courtmartial on the serious charge of being a spy.

Having satisfied themselves with regard to the matter in dispute, the two boys later on returned once more to the camp and sought to secure some much needed sleep, fully conscious that the duties of the coming day would again sap their energies and bring them renewed chances for thrilling action.

XIII. THE WINNING OF THE ARGONNE

Days passed and each setting sun saw the Yankee boys in khaki further along the terrible trail they had set out to follow to the end. Another mile, perhaps two, of the dense Argonne Forest had been redeemed, and the stubborn foe sent reeling backward.

The end was in sight, many believed. Once they passed out of the vast stretch of woods, the pace of the retreating enemy must be accelerated, though of course he would take advantage of every ravine, abandoned farm building, destroyed hamlet and village that offered sites for machine-guns, on which Hindenburg was coming to rely more than on his Big Berthas.

They made the Yankee pay the price for it all, even though the famous Kriemhild-Stellung line was broken in the end. In addition to the heavy blanketing of woods, hills and ravines intersected the forest at intervals. These very often were knee deep in mud, through which the fighters from overseas had to wade as they pushed steadily on.

Then there were barbed wire defenses, sometimes twenty feet in height, with the hills and surrounding country villages fortified with acres of rapid-fire guns, often in vast nests, and requiring the work of batteries to blast them out of the path.

During all these days they had charged through villages, fought through morasses, forded swollen streams, bayoneted machine gunners at their posts, and used their rifles as clubs when they came to grips with the foe in the wire entanglements.

Hunger and thirst joined hands with the enemy. Gas attack followed charge, and charge succeeded gas attack. From overhead Boche planes rained bombs down upon them. Comrades fell on every hand, and the cries of the wounded rose above the shrieking of shrapnel and shell.

And day after day the young air-service boys rendered their full duty to the cause they stood for. Filled with the ardor that spurs patriots on to do astonishing feats they never shirked when the order came that sent them again and again into the air to measure wits with the Boche fliers.

Hardly a day but what there was a vacancy in the ranks of those gallant airmen who were so willingly giving their service in answer to their country's call. More than a few had been sent to the hospital from which they would only emerge, it might be, cripples for life, but doubtless thankful to have escaped even a sadder fate.

Tom and Jack, as well as Harry Leroy, had had their close calls, but somehow it seemed as though they were watched over by a kind Providence, for so far none of them had met with a serious mishap.

There were compensations, too; for after a hard day's work in the air how pleasant it was for Jack to lounge in the temporary field hut of the Red Triangle and watch Bessie's nimble fingers handing out hot coffee, sandwiches, or any of the hundred-and-one things which those industrious workers managed to have in store for the wearers of Uncle Sam's khaki, so as to make them feel that here was indeed a touch of home life, though far removed from the actual thing.

And then perhaps from time to time, when Bessie was relieved by some other worker, how delightful it was to find a chance to sit with her, sipping tea, and chatting.

Of course Jack had long ago confided to her all that had happened to him and to Tom and Harry since last they had met in Paris. If he was over modest in his descriptions, especially when speaking of his personal doings, why, Bessie had imagination, and could easily color the narrative to suit her own ideas of what was fit and proper.

This sort of thing could not keep up indefinitely, of course.

The losses which the American army was sustaining were very severe, for they never allowed themselves to be balked of their object. If they found after trying that it was impossible to secure what they were after one way, they turned around and went at it from a second, perhaps even a third angle, but what in the end they gained their objective.

But it was known that they had now arrived close to the northern edge of that vast wooded tract. For twenty-three days they had battled continuously and pushed their lines forward in a way that must have been peculiarly discouraging to Hindenburg.

His generals, who knew the ground best, had assured the Hun commander that no army on earth could ever force the Argonne Forest, defended as it was by every possible contrivance ever invented by a cunning Boche brain. Yet here in October those persistent Yankees were on the point of emerging from the bloody shambles, and ready to continue the drive to the banks of the Rhine, if need be.

It was on one of those never-to-be-forgotten October nights that Jack entered the tent that was being used as the temporary rest house for the Y. M. C. A. workers, with a hastily dug hole adjoining where the girls could seek shelter in case the Boche became troublesome with his shells or bombs. He motioned to Tom whom he found chatting with Bessie.

The place was crowded as usual. Some of the doughboys had taken possession of the battered old piano, moved up each day as though it were their choicest possession, as indeed it really was. They sang their favorite songs over and over again, and seemed to enjoy every minute of the time.

It was no easy thing to make oneself heard with so much noise going on; but Tom obeyed the signal of his chum, under the conviction that Jack must have something of more or less importance which he wished to communicate.

"What's in the wind this time, Jack?" he asked lightly, when he found himself alongside the other. "Any more spies trying to blow up our hangars?"

"Forget all that now. I want to speak to you about Helene, Tom."

"Oh, yes! We've almost forgotten all about Helene these days, what with our many duties in the field and the air. What's new concerning little Jeanne's sister, Jack?"

"Well, I haven't been neglecting the job I undertook, all the same," came the steady answer. "Never a batch of Boche prisoners is put behind the barbed-wire enclosure but what I find a chance to look 'em over and air my limited German vocabulary."

"Trying to find out if there are any Lorrainers in the bunch—is that what you mean?"

"It is," the other told him, smiling at the accurate guess made by Tom.

"I suppose," continued Tom, "you've run across quite a few of them, and some Alsatians in the bargain; for the Prussian war-lords saw to it that few, if any, escaped the draft."

"Oh, I picked out dozens of men who claimed they had homes in Lorraine, and every mother's son of them was fighting in the Hun army because of compulsion. A lot of them lied, of course, because their names told that they came of German stock, their people having settled there after the war of Seventy-one had given the country to Germany."

"And at last ran across the one you most wanted to meet, did you?"

"I did come on a chap who admitted his home was just on the other side of the border, and who knew all about General von Berthold. Yes, and the Anstey family as well. From him I learned that Gerald Anstey was the name of Jeanne's and Helena's father. He was English, of course, and married into that Lorraine family."

"Dead, I suppose?" asked Tom.

"It has been believed so for four years now," replied Jack. "Anstey tried to leave the country in order to join the British regiment to which he belonged, but was followed by the Guards, and they say shot down like a dog. Anyway he's never been heard from in all these years."

"And is the general really the man who took Helene away?" Tom demanded.

"No question about it. This man told me he was connected with the family Mrs. Anstey sprang from. Better still, Tom, this same Lorrainer was at the old chateau just a few days ago, sent there on duty because of his being from the same section of country as von Berthold, he says. And, Tom, he saw Helene!"

"You're getting closer and closer all the time, Jack, let me tell you. If you didn't give him a clue to make him say that, it's very important."

"Oh, I was careful not to let him know why I was interested in von Berthold. When he happened to say he had seen a child there that he could remember having noticed at the Anstey home of course I pumped him, and led him along until he declared that he felt certain it was either Jeanne or Helene."

"I'm glad that point is settled," Tom admitted. "After this we can know what ground we stand on, if ever we find a chance to make a call as uninvited guests on General von Berthold."

"Speed the day!" said Jack. "The sooner it comes the better I'll be pleased. Nellie told me that she hears from Jeanne every few days, for the ambulances pass the door of the little half-demolished house where she has found a temporary home before going to Paris; and the drivers carry notes for Nellie, stopping for answers on the return trip."

"I can easily understand that!" Tom exclaimed eagerly, unconsciously giving himself away. "For who could resist Nellie's sweet smile? Certainly no warm-hearted Yankee ambulance driver with a girl back home who is often in his thoughts. Some fellows would wade through fire and water for a smile from Nellie."

"That's right, too, Tom," admitted Jack promptly. "And they'd feel well repaid for doing it too. I know one who doesn't hesitate to say so. But see here, I'm going to propose something to you, old fellow."

"I can give a pretty shrewd guess what it is. You carry your secrets in your face, Jack. Nothing of the cunning conspirator about you, for a fact. You're going to suggest that we plan some sort of a campaign, by means of which we can pay a flying visit to this old chateau and surprise the famous general, perhaps relieve him of the voluntary charge he's taken on his shoulders by carrying Helene away with us."

"You hit the bull's-eye the first shot, Tom. That is just what I had in mind. Please don't try to throw cold water on my hopes by saying it can't be done."

"Make your mind easy on that score, Jack. I'm just as eager as you can be to drop in on the general and bring Helene back to her twin sister."

"I'm right glad to hear you say that. Fact is, I ought to be ashamed to suspect for a single second that you'd decline to back me up. Now the only question that's left is to set the time."

"That may have to be settled by circumstances just now beyond our control," Tom told him, very seriously.

Jack seeing him look around so carefully sensed something of importance.

"See here, what ails you, Tom? You've got something held back, I just know. Is that fair to me, your old chum? I've been told there was an extra big event in the air, but no one seemed able to get a line on it. Those who did know kept it a dead secret. Are you one of them? And won't you put me wise, Tom?"

"I've kept it a secret for two days, until I'm ready to burst," admitted Tom, with a sigh of relief. "Just a bit ago I received permission to mention it to you, as the observer who was to accompany me is out of the running, and they gave me my choice of another. Of course I took you, Jack."

"It's well you did, because I'd never have forgiven you if you'd gone back on your old pal," Jack replied, nodding his head. "Now tell me what it's all about. Are we going to blast the Kaiser out of his throne?"

"It amounts to about that, I'd say, Jack. Listen. The High Command have laid out a scheme to knock the last prop out from under Fritz. There's a certain stronghold they're banking on as a bulwark of safety in case we do succeed in breaking through here. Get that, Jack?"

"Yes, spin away, Tom."

"All right. Well, they've been getting all kinds of secret information about this particular spot, and it's on the map to knock it sky-high!"

"Bomb it, you mean, of course?"

"We've got a new kind of bomb, it seems, said to be three times as powerful in its effects as the best the Huns handle. Our leaders are anxious that it should be tried out against this stronghold that the Boche seems to think is going to hold Pershing's boys up for ever so long."

"Great stunt! And say, I'm mighty glad you got a chance to pull me into the game, Tom. Never forget it, I tell you."

"Don't mention it, Jack. I'll be three times as happy with you beside me, than if I had to have another alongside. But that isn't quite all, boy."

"What, even more coming?" gasped the delighted Jack.

"It seems that rumors have reached us that Ludendorff has his present headquarters in a chateau among the hills that can be easily reached by the bombing plane squadron on their way to the main objective. Yes, and would you believe it, they even suspect that the Old Fox of the Hills, Von Hindenburg himself, is there right now, in consultation with his chief general. Think of a double killing, Jack, will you?"

Jack went through a pantomime that indicated his abounding joy over the prospect of cutting off the responsible heads of the enemy at a single blow.

"This sounds good to me," he said. "And now, Tom, what has it all to do with the prospect of our paying that visit to Jeanne's uncle, and forcing him to give up little Helene? Tell me that!"

XIV. SELECTED FOR SPECIAL DUTY

"Remember," Tom said again very solemnly, "this is a dead secret, Jack."

"Not a whisper will get away from me, I give you my word on that," hastily replied the other. "And my word is as good as my bond, any day."

"So it is. I only cautioned you as I did because the same secrecy was impressed on me at the time I was taken into the matter. That was why I couldn't give even you a hint. But it's all right now. As to your question, Jack, it might happen that we would get separated from the rest of the bunch on the return journey, and, if so, why, you see, we could take a little spin around the district where that other chateau lies."

"Yes," added Jack thoughtfully, but with a gleam in his eye, "accidents are apt to happen in even the best regulated families; and it isn't very strange for aviators to get a little mixed in their bearings."

"Especially," Tom went on to say without the ghost of a smile, "when on a night-bombing expedition; for a thousand things are apt to come up, all calculated to bother the best of pilots, and throw him out of his reckoning."

"Why, we've been through that mill more than a few times, you remember, Tom. I could mention at least three occasions when we couldn't tell where we were and had to go it blind for a time. Fortunately, we got home all right where some fellows might have been less lucky."

"Well, that's all I'm going to tell you now, for the reason that it's the extent of my own information," Tom wound up with. "And since the hour is growing pretty late I reckon two tired fellows I know had better be getting over to their bunks."

"One thing more, Tom," urged the other.

"All right, but hurry along, for I saw Bessie looking this way as if she had something to say; and you interrupted our conversation in a very interesting part."

Jack grinned, and said:

"It will stay interrupted, too, for I am going to have the last word with Bessie. But I was wondering whether the officers would want us to work to-morrow, and keep up this flying for victory business, as the boys have taken to calling the work we're doing here over the Argonne these days?"

"Oh! How careless of me to forget to tell you about that! No, all of those who have been selected for this enterprise are to get a holiday to-morrow, so they can be fresh for the night work. We're to lie around, take things easy, eat doughnuts as fast as the Salvation Army girls can fry them, and get in trim for strenuous work."

Jack sighed.

"Suits me all right," he admitted. "Haven't had much vacation for three weeks or so now, and it gets a bit monotonous buzzing over those treetops, asking Fritz to pop away at you so as to coax him to betray his warm nest down below, and then making signs to our boys so as to locate it for them."

"All of us who haven't been piloting bombing planes will feel about the same way, Jack. I know a day off is going to make me feel fresh and dandy.

"Besides," went on Tom, as if incidentally, "there's a fellow over at the hospital that I'm interested in. His name is Fred Lincoln, and he was hurt yesterday in one of the skirmishes in the woods. I couldn't find out how bad his wounds were, but he was having me take some letters of his only three days ago, telling me then he had a queer feeling he was going to get his before long, and asking me to send them home for him if it happened."

"I remember Fred," said Jack, looking sorry to hear the news. "He's a fine boy at that. He was married only a week before the draft took him. Said the war had nothing to do with his getting spliced, as they had been engaged for two years. I hope he comes through. Remember me to him; and also to his nurse—if she happens to be named Nellie."

"Sure. Are you off to bed now?" as the other turned away.

"In five minutes or so, after I've spoken to Bessie," came the answer.

Jack was as good as his word, and the two chums were soon preparing for another night's sound sleep, hoping they would not be aroused by any disturbance, such as had occurred on that other night.

In this at least they were lucky. The Germans had evidently suffered so severely on account of that other raid they did not care to repeat it.

So the night passed altogether in peaceful fashion; that is, for such times of warfare, where hundreds of thousands of fighting men, backed by unlimited batteries and monster guns, were daily grappling in what was destined to go down in history as the most extraordinary, as well as the most protracted, engagement of the entire war.

The boys were up early, and Harry Leroy seemed surprised when told that the two air service boys did not expect to fly that day.

"Something's up, I warrant," he told them bluntly, "and you're bound to keep a tight upperlip about it. All right, I wouldn't ask you to whisper just one word to me; only I feel sore because they have left me out of the game. But I never was lucky in drawing prizes. I'll go out and vent my spleen on some Fritz who happens to get in my way."

When the airmen trailed in toward noon on that October day, first, rumors reached Tom and Jack, and then came the plain story connected with Harry's extraordinary conduct on that wonderful morning.

Other pilots said the boy seemed to be possessed of a spirit such as they had never known him to show before. He hunted out the Boche wherever he could find him, forced him to give battle, and then simply played with him, no matter if he chanced to be one of the best-known German aces.

Two he had sent down in flames, for which he would receive due credit; and there were reports that he had also made as many more drop to the earth in a condition of impotence.

"Why," said a pilot who recounted some of these happenings to the air service boys, "Harry seemed possessed of a reckless spirit that will be the death of him yet unless he curbs it. He'll soon have the entire Boche escadrille on his tail, crazy to fetch him down. And if he keeps up this sort of work and lives, he'll soon make our leading ace look to his laurels."

When Harry came in finally he looked flushed, but triumphant.

"What's all this we hear about your carrying-on this morning?" demanded Jack, almost immediately.

"Oh, I just made up my mind that I'd got to have a special day of it, that's all," replied the other carelessly. "They wouldn't let me go along with you chaps, and I had to do something to let the ugliness get out; so I put it up to Fritz. And, say, I've had a glorious time, too."

He refused pointblank to tell them anything more at the time, so they had to pick up all their information through other channels; but then it was not so hard to do that, since nearly every working aviator had taken note of Harry's remarkable work that morning.

Then came the afternoon.

Both Tom and Jack might have considered that time dragged, only for the fact that they could pass the hours in a pleasant fashion. Tom managed to get over to the field hospital to see his wounded friend, Fred Lincoln. And, really, he did spend as much as ten minutes trying to cheer that individual up, for Fred had lost an arm, and was feeling blue over his future home-going to his young wife.

As for Jack, he haunted the Y. M. C. A. dugout and wrote letters home until he could not think of another person who would want to be remembered. It was a great day of rest to those hard-working air pilots, though from the look on their faces when they were greeting the incoming aviators one might have thought they rather envied them their latest achievements.

Such is the force of habit.

At last came night, and the two air service boys thrilled with the realization of what great things were apt to come to pass in their experience before another dawn brought the grey into the eastern sky.

XV. OVER THE ENEMY'S LINES

In all there were twenty planes starting out on that momentous expedition to "strafe the Kaiser," as Jack called it. Half of these were monster bombing machines of a late model, capable of carrying more of the deadly explosives than had ever before been attempted.

The others were battle planes, guided by the most expert pilots, some of whom were already famous aces. These were men whose names had become household words over in America, heroes of the masses, whose pictures always evoked storms of applause whenever shown on the screen in the motion picture houses.

Tom owed the fact of his having been selected to guide one of the bombers, instead of a fighting machine, to the fact that one man had fallen sick, and was thus placed out of the running. In casting around for an efficient substitute they had picked Tom.

The start was made an hour before midnight. This was done in order to lead the Boche to believe that the night would pass without unusual occurrences.

Quietly, every man who had been called to duty presented himself at his special station equipped for work. The hostlers, under the supervision of the officer in command at the aviation field, had seen to it that every detail had been looked after. Tanks were filled, and each plane carefully examined for defects that might imperil the lives of those who were to trust themselves to its reliability.

As customary, the pilots and observers themselves took one last survey of certain particular features where experience told them there was the most reason to anticipate trouble.

Not a single plane but stood up under the test, which spoke well for the infinite care taken in their manufacture, as well as the handling they had received since being placed in action.

The signal being given, the monster machines began to take the air one after another, units in a vast whole. There was no demonstration, though scores of other aviators and assistants were on the field watching the send-off, speculating as to the momentous business being thus undertaken and often eating their hearts out with envy.

Tom and Jack were well satisfied with the big plane that had been given into their charge. Of course Tom had handled just such a machine before, and was well acquainted with its possibilities.

Jack on his part was pleased with the fact that the work of releasing the old-shaped bombs would fall to his share of the duties. It was something to feel pride in, this taking part in the most ambitious expedition of the kind in which the Americans had ever embarked, without a single French or British airman along.

Once aloft, they waited for the remainder of the huge squadron to join them. The hum of the many motors made merry music in the ears of the two young Yankee aviators. That droning sound seemed to be spelling the downfall of autocracy, and the rule of real democracy throughout all the world.

It was just the kind of night for such a raid. Clouds partly covered the sky, but there was an absence of wind. Up there, far removed from the earth, it was not dark, and when looking down objects were dimly seen.

The great forest stretched backward toward the south; and in the other direction, had it been daylight, the aviators could have looked off to the open country, where fields lay. These were no longer covered with the fruits of the harvest, as in prewar times, but lay desolate, with ruined farm buildings, and everywhere the indelible mark of the ruthless hand of the Hun showing what had befallen the border Departments of poor bleeding France.

Finally came the welcome signal that announced the arrival of the last of the air fleet. All was now ready for the start. Every pilot knew what place he was expected to occupy in the formation; and when another flash was seen they took up their positions.

The leader occupied the place of honor. After him came two more planes a little apart. The next pair were even further away from each other, and so it went on to the end. In as far as Jack could make out, the expedition at its start very much resembled the formation seen when a flock of wild geese passes overhead, winging its flight toward the South in the fall or toward Canada in the spring, making a triangle, or spear head, with an old gander at the apex in supreme command.

Later on, as occasion arose, this formation would be changed, the battleplanes surrounding the heavier bombers in order to protect them from any hostile attack.

Far below could be seen occasional lights. These they knew came from some camp of the Huns, where the tired soldiers were sleeping in anticipation of another hard day's work ahead. Off to the right a fire was burning, perhaps some building in the process of destruction to prevent its falling into the hands of the Americans, who were in line to overwhelm it on their next day's drive.

These things, however, received very little attention from the raiders. They were more interested in the possibility of their progress being halted by some block of Hun machines, bent on breaking up the raid before it was well started.

No doubt, information had leaked concerning the assembling of all these latest model planes. There were always ways whereby clever and daring spies could communicate with their mates on the other side of the fighting line, which was the main reason for so much secrecy in planning this particular expedition.

So most of the time both Tom and Jack kept their eyes fixed on the line ahead, waiting eagerly for the signal to close in.

"There she goes!" called out Jack suddenly; but of course his companion had already seen the signal light from the leading plane, and was commencing to carry out his part of the programme.

Enemy planes had been discovered barring their further progress, quite a squadron of them being in the air, with others rising as they caught the sound of the bustling motors coming from the south.

This was the first crisis in the raid. The Huns were "out for blood," as Jack termed it, and would do their utmost to break up the formation. Their object would be to confuse the Yankee pilots, and thus weaken the force to the extent of making them abandon their plan.

But like a speeding avalanche the score of American planes sailed on, bent on forcing their way directly through the feeble defensive line by sheer mass play. It was football tactics over again on a huge scale, as learned by most of those young pilots in their schooldays at home.

The machine-guns commenced to spray around them. Such a furious fire was opened that almost immediately one of the Hun machines took a downward dive, rushed earthward, bursting into flames before it had gone one-quarter of the way to the ground.

This quick result evidently took some of the spirit out of the remainder of the enemy pilots, for they sheered off to right and left, still keeping their guns going, but apparently apprehensive as to their own safety.

A second Boche crumpled up under this mass attack. His plane was seen turning over and over, though it did not take fire, and there was not one chance in ten of its pilot's being able to save himself from the doom that apparently confronted him.

Of course, no one ever knew whose lucky shots had accomplished this double result. These victories must go down in the history of the Yankee flying squadron simply as "general damage inflicted upon the enemy." But they counted just as much in demoralizing the Germans, for after that the attempt to hold up the raiders was abandoned. Fritz had done his best, but it had proved to be far from good enough.

Twenty Yankee machines had gone into the battle, and the same number sailed majestically onward after the last spiteful chatter of machine-gun fire had ceased.

For the first encounter of the night this was encouraging. It seemed to give promise of further successes yet to come; and every member of the expedition felt a glow in his heart on realizing how great their victory had been.

They were now headed for the castle where report placed Ludendorff's headquarters. Perhaps report lied. That was a matter with which they had nothing whatever to do; all they knew was that their orders entailed on them the duty of demolishing that castle in the most expeditious manner known to bombing pilots, and leave the rest to history to record.

The raiders were now of course well back of the German front, though still flying over French soil. Presently they would come upon that part of the country where the enemy had chosen to place his supreme headquarters while trying with might and main to hold the aggressive Americans in check.

Only the leader would know when this was reached, though, through signals, his orders could be passed back along the line.

It was now no longer dark down below, thanks to the heavenly bodies that had appeared once more from behind the cloud curtain, as though in league with the raiders.

The squadron descended to lower levels, in order to be better prepared for dropping their bombs when the time arrived.

Jack, having nothing to do with the piloting of the machine, kept a vigilant watch ahead. He wondered how the leader would know when they had arrived close to the castle, since the inmates would of course see to it that every light was extinguished that could be of use to an enemy airman.

Then came the signal telling that they had arrived, and downward further swooped the bombing machines, the raiders intent on sighting their intended quarry so as to blot it out of existence.

XVI. BLOTTING OUT HUN HEADQUARTERS

Below them, as they thus swooped downward, the air service boys could see the earth lying in semi-darkness. It was even possible to make out the darker shadows which indicated patches of trees, and a white road stood out like a straight line drawn across a shaded map.

Looking closer, Jack quickly discovered the castle.

It stood among some trees, and was unquestionably well fitted to serve the German High Commander as headquarters until such time as the Americans drawing near forced him to move back to Sedan, and then cross over into Belgium near its junction with Luxembourg.

The bombers now altered their formation. Instead of moving forward in a compact mass they formed two parallel lines but a short distance apart, five machines to each column.

Jack looked across to the companion plane and distinguished both pilot and observer crouching at their posts, eager to get into action. It seemed as though he could easily toss a coin over and make it land in the other machine, so close did they range along, with buzzing motors cut down to slower speed so as not to interfere too much with the dropping of the bombs.

Each plane was to let just one missile go, and no more. If the castle had one stone left on another after the rain of aerial torpedoes had come to an end, it would be vastly surprising.

True, it was a French chateau, and it seemed too bad to have to expend any of their precious bombs in bringing about its downfall. But of course they knew full well it was the policy of the Huns never to leave anything intact that could be of the slightest assistance or comfort to the enemy. Hence the annihilation of the chateau was already ordained when Ludendorff should be through using it.

Jack primed himself for his work, though it must be Tom who would give the word when the exact second arrived for the bomb to be released. One pressure on the trigger, and down through the slanting tube would speed the messenger of destruction, bent on its fateful errand.

They were one of the last pair in line, consequently they might expect to hear some sign of the dreadful work before their time came to join in.

Guns were beginning to sound, and the raiders could see spiteful flashes here and there. Evidently, if Ludendorff did have his headquarters here, he had been judicious enough to mount a number of anti-aircraft guns to combat the raiding planes should they appear at any time.

But the firing was only haphazard work, because the searchlight that began now to play upon the airplanes could reveal only one bomber at a time. Thus the shrapnel burst much above their level, so deceptive was the glare.

Then came a sudden, terrific crash, sounding almost as if the battery of Heaven's heaviest artillery had broken loose in one frightful thunderclap. At the same time a blinding flash from below showed Jack flying timbers and scattering stones.

The first shot from the bombers had been well sent and accomplished all that was expected of it. Hardly had the dancing echoes bounded from a neighboring elevation than there came a second explosion, if anything louder than the preceding one.

So the bombs exploded in pairs, just as they were let go by the units in the double column of advancing raiders. Two, four, six had gone, and if all struck as true to the mark as that initial one, there must be little left of the doomed castle by now.

Jack was in a fever of suspense. He feared that the signal to cease firing might be given before he could drop his bomb, the commander of the bombing fleet having decided enough damage had already been inflicted, and that it would be only a waste of good material to rain down any more bombs.

But seven and then eight were falling, as though it had been settled to make a clean sweep while about it.

Their turn next!

Jack gritted his teeth and awaited Tom's cry, when he would be the last to burst into the rousing chorus of thunderous reports. The signal came, and Jack pressed the trigger, releasing the hanging bomb, and starting it on its downward journey.

If Tom's judgment was good it would at least strike somewhere in the midst of the débris and add more or less to the wreckage. As to whether the Boche commander-in-chief had been caught napping and buried in the ruins, was a matter about which they could only speculate.

Tom himself doubted whether such a happy solution of the affair could be attained, because he had known of various attempts being made in times gone by to "get" the Kaiser himself when visiting the western front, but always without success.

They heard a frightful crash, much louder than any of those preceding it. The big plane rocked and swayed as though in a gale, and Tom needed all his skill to keep from being thrown off his balance.

It was no mystery to Jack. He realized that by a strange coincidence his falling bomb and that of the other rear plane had exploded simultaneously, making the ground vibrate, and completely destroying anything that had been left of the French chateau.

Their work in this quarter having been thoroughly accomplished the raiders now climbed higher, to rejoin the battleplane squadron hovering above, waiting to act once more as their armed escort.

Looking down in farewell, Jack could see fires burning. The shattered timbers of the wrecked chateau had been set ablaze. He would always remember that strange event whenever again watching fires from a lofty height in the night-time.

The squadron was off again, the second thrilling event connected with the bombing raid having come off as scheduled without any mishap to the Yankee air fleet.

Jack had kept quiet up to now, but it had cost him a severe effort. Talking when a plane is bombing on its way can never be anything of a pleasure unless it is equipped with an up-to-date wireless telephone for the use of pilot and observer.

Jack himself had contrived some amateur device of this sort which he rigged up as soon as he seated himself back of Tom, although up to then he had failed to make use of it.

The roar of many propellers and the steady hum of a score of engines combined to make a deafening noise. Nevertheless, when Tom felt a tug at his sleeve, such as had been agreed upon with his chum, he took hold of his little receiver and was delighted to hear Jack's voice as plainly as though there had been no interference.

Plainly then Jack's idea was bearing fruit, and properly cultivated there might be something worth while in the scheme.

"Tom, do you get me?" demanded the agitated inventor, the first thing.

"Yes, and plainly, too," came the reply that greatly pleased Jack; for up to then they had found no occasion to test the wireless telephone under severe conditions.

If it "made good" with all that noise about them, Jack felt that he ought to call it a success.

"That's right!" he told Tom, exultantly. "I never missed a syllable that time. Oh, boy! it seems as if it's O K, doesn't it?"

"Splendid thing for talking when you're rushing along; and without cracking your voice, either," Tom told him.

"Did my bomb explode exactly at the same second as the other one?" next asked Jack, more to continue the conversation and thrill with his triumph than for information, because he had already made up his mind on that score.

"Just what it did, Jack. But let up on this now. I've got to keep my whole attention pinned to my work."

That often different minds run in the same channel is proved every day; and in Jack's case it really turned out that while he was testing his crude invention another much more eminent person in far-away America had just succeeded in accomplishing the idea he had in mind, and was almost ready to offer it to the Washington Signal Corps authorities.

After rejoining the squadron of battleplanes the old formation had been resumed. A cordon of fighters moved on either side, one to each bombing unit in the fleet. Just as transports were convoyed across the dread submarine danger-zone of the Atlantic by destroyers and cruisers, so these working planes were protected by those better equipped for holding off intending offenders, and striking with all the strength of Uncle Sam's good right arm.

It would not be for long, Tom believed. Straight as the honey bee heads toward the hive when laden with sweets extracted from blossom and flower, they were now aiming for their main objective, the last powerful stronghold of the Hun in that sector, perhaps in all the extended battle front.

Doubtless they would meet with a stubborn resistance. The enemy must, in the nature of things have been forewarned, and would do everything in his power to ward off the impending blow.

There was likely to be a determined battle in the air, with the Germans closing in to make desperate resistance. There was also bound to be a heavy fire from below. Airplanes, perhaps even Zeppelins of the latest and most powerful description, would attack the raiders, and seek to smash their formation into a chaos that must mean disgraceful flight and heavy losses.

But every American heart beat strong with confidence as the fliers winged their way through space, heading for the Hun stronghold that was intended to be a supreme menace to the onrushing tide of Uncle Sam's boys in khaki.

XVII. FLYING FOR VICTORY

Both Tom and Jack could look back to previous experiences in bombing the enemy. They had taken part in excursions that occupied a part of a moonlight night; trips that sometimes had carried them across the border, and to Metz; once they had gone even as far as the Rhine up in the region of Coblenz, where later on Pershing's army was fated to be posted as a guard over the beaten Huns.

But on those occasions their work had been of a different character from that now given to them. They had seen munition plants go up in masses of flames after their bombs struck; watched important bridges being shattered under the same gigantic force; felt a thrill of triumph when a lucky shot exploded some huge munition dump, on which the enemy depended for his reserve store; exhausted their stock of bombs in demolishing an important railway junction, so as to paralyze the transportation of reinforcing bodies of German troops.

All those things they were familiar with, but from the great secrecy that had been maintained in connection with this enterprise they could understand that it far exceeded them all in importance.

Their speed was such that they would be likely to reach their goal shortly, when all the suspense must be over. Jack wished that time had come. He was already trying to figure out just how Tom would plan so as to seem to become lost on the homeward flight, and thus be left to his own resources for a time.

From this reverie he was aroused by seeing the signal flash from the pivot of the spearhead. It gave him an electrical sensation, though that was only to be expected.

Tom, too, knew the crisis was near at hand. He stared ahead, and believed he could even make out spectral objects moving this way and that, like monstrous, though dimly seen, dragonflies, such as all country boys have watched many a time while on a warm summer day, lying at rest on the bank of the "swimming hole."

From this it was evident that news of their probable coming had been sent on ahead, warning the defenders of the German fortress.

Still was the night as yet, but it would not be for long with those opposing air forces ready for a death grapple. While the ten battleplanes, each piloted by a Yankee ace with a splendid record, engaged the flotilla of enemy aircraft, the bombers must be at their more humble but equally important business.

All had been arranged so that there might be the least possible friction, and no confusion. Each pilot and observer knew exactly what he was to do, and every possible situation had been taken into consideration.

Then came the initial firing.

It seemed that one ambitious Boche airman, unable to wait until the oncoming Americans reached the formation arranged to resist the onslaught, had flown ahead and was now exhausting his puny reservoir of missiles against the solid phalanx.

The clatter became a roar as several of the raiders turned their guns on the incautious Hun. Immediately his voice was stilled, and the flittering light dropping earthward, after the manner of a falling rocket-stick, told what had happened to him.

Before he landed his machine had burst into flames, as the escaping petrol caught fire. Jack considered that a good omen for their side.

"Fritz seems to be getting a rough deal on this particular night," he told himself. "Already three of his planes have been destroyed, and several others have gone down out of control, with never a single loss on the side of the Americans. Bully!"

But now the advance had reached the marked line where the rest of the Huns waited to engage the invaders. If they were dismayed by the tragic fate that had overtaken that rash pilot they did not show it, for they attacked with a viciousness that Tom had never seen equalled in all his experience as a flier.

It was undoubtedly desperation that spurred the Boche on. He knew that these wonderful Americans, who his leaders had ridiculed in the beginning, were foes not to be despised; that they had almost taken the entire Argonne; that they had actually threatened to commence the long-talked of march on to Berlin.

So they attacked with fury, and the engagement soon became general. Right and left there was continual firing going on, as the giant planes wheeled and circled, shooting out flaming tongues like so many blast furnaces in action.

The formation was not broken even then, each battleplane continuing to cover its individual bombing plane with the shelter of its wings, so to speak, though at the same time fighting off the aggressors.

Of course the bombers were also fitted to ward off attack, each being armed with two machine-guns, one forward, and the other aft where the man who handled the bombs could manipulate it. Slower and much less agile than the fighting planes, they were expected to defend themselves but not to attack.

The advance had slowed up, but not entirely stopped while the battle was joined. As yet no bomb had been slipped from its leash, for the right moment still held off.

Looking down Jack could see where the searchlights that sent such broadening streamers aloft were stationed. He could also make out a dim pile that must be the German fortress, strengthened particularly to hold up the Americans, even as that at Verdun had held up the Huns.

Let the "Archies" bark below and the shrapnel burst all around them as it pleased, no one in all that vast armada of the air was paying the slightest attention to such things. They all, in their carelessness of danger, seemed to themselves impervious to the storm of flying missiles.

The slower-moving bombing machines bore the brunt of this furious onslaught, and Jack could tell that the wings of their plane were being cut by the bullets.

It was almost a miracle that so far no one aboard any of the ten big planes seemed to have been struck; or if such a thing had happened the injury did not appear to be serious. They continued to move forward as if all the Huns in Northern France, backed by every sort of gun that could hurl shrapnel aloft, would not be sufficient to stay their progress.

Presently, however, the formation was broken at a signal. To try to maintain it any longer would be little short of suicidal, for the gunners below were getting their range better, and the bursting shells came alarmingly close now.

Tom kept his eyes constantly about him. Each bomber tried to keep at a given altitude in making the evolutions, since in that way they were better able to avoid a collision that would be fatal to both machines.

At last Tom caught his signal and as he headed straight for the spot over the fortress he gave Jack the sign. The bomb slipped from its sheath, and was instantly lost to sight in the smoky atmosphere below.

Already they had had their ears shocked by numerous discharges, as others among the Americans shot their missile earthward. It was terrible to look down at that crisis in the attack. The whole world seemed on fire beneath them, what with the exploding bombs and the myriad flashes coming from the German guns at work.

Jack was disappointed because in this vast inferno he found it utterly impossible to tell where his special messenger struck. He knew, though, that he had been in a fair position for a hit when given the word, and on that account never found any reason to doubt but that it had given a good account of itself.

After delivering his fire Tom swept off to one side so as not to interfere with another bomber who might occupy a higher level, and be advancing to the attack.

Presently when the turn of the air service boys came again they would be ready to send down the second "bundle of concentrated destructiveness"; and later on there might be a "clean-up call" that would exhaust the stock carried by each plane.

Meanwhile, given a chance to look hastily around at other factors connected with the extensive engagement, Tom discovered that there had been at least one victim besides the initial one.

A plane was dropping swiftly, swinging this way and that, turning over and over, and showing signs that the pilot's hand no longer controlled the levers. He was unable to make out whether it was an enemy plane or one of their own convoy; but the doom of those who happened to be belted to the seats was undoubtedly sealed.

XVIII. FAVORED BY FORTUNE

The Huns soon discovered that they were up against an intrepid enemy. When they so boldly attacked the Yankee fleet of raiders, as Jack expressed it in his boyish way, they had "bitten off more than they could chew."

They had dropped back a bit and were trying to annoy the Americans all they could with as little damage to themselves as possible. If their last stronghold was doomed to destruction under that rain of mighty bombs, any self-sacrifice on their part could not ward it off, and so what was the use?

The end seemed to be approaching, for the Boche plainly showed he had had enough of the fighting. One last combined attack all along the line that would likely put the enemy to flight, and then for the signal that would spell "homeward bound," a magical phrase with voyagers of the air just as it is with sailors of the salty seas.

Finally it came. The great battle was over.

The air service boys rejoiced that the victory was won.

The roar of guns from below had ceased, and as the Yankees above could not find any enemy plane against which to pit their strength, they, too, no longer scurried this way and that, each one like an avenging Nemesis.

Looking down Jack was appalled at what he saw. It seemed almost as though the end of the world had come. Huge volumes of acrid smoke slowly swept along on the night air, with here and there a lurid tongue of angry flame, looking like a serpent's tongue, stabbing the gloomy curtain.

He had seen vivid pictures in colors of an eruption of Vesuvius, and to his mind this presented just such an appalling spectacle. There could never be any doubt regarding the awful power of those latest of Yankee bombs. The German stronghold that an hour before had stood in arrogant pride, meant to be a stumbling block in the path of Pershing's victorious army, had been so shattered that it would hardly be noticed in the general advance of the oncoming host of boys in khaki.

But there was the signal to gather once more in formation of twos for the homeward journey. There would always be a chance that the furious Huns might gather a fresh force of aerial fighters to make one last assault on the columns before admitting defeat; and it was to be ready for this that every possible precaution must be taken.

Then the fact became apparent that the return was not to be made with an undiminished force. There were no longer exactly twenty planes to fill out the double column. Some were missing, having fallen in the last desperate attack of the foe, when a perfect whirlwind of fighting had taken place.

Tom noticed this almost immediately. At least one battleplane was absent, if not more, and the companion bomber that had occupied with them the place of honor at the tail of the procession also failed to come to its place. Perhaps the very plane he had watched drop and wondered about was one of these missing ones.

Jack, too, looked down upon that vast smudge of smoke and shooting flames with a new feeling gripping his heart. It no longer represented merely the disappointed hopes of a Hindenburg and a Ludendorff; it was not to be considered only a fortress annihilated by American pluck and ingenuity; there was a sadness in Jack's parting look now, and for a reason. Down there brave American boys had gone to their fate, after battling to their last breath for the right. In that blanket of smoke and amidst scattered stone and timbers they had found their tomb, nor would those loved ones far across the sea ever know where to look for their last resting place.

On the roll they would be marked simply as "lost when on perilous duty", and that brief inscription must ever be their epitaph. None more glorious was ever inscribed on monument of granite in a city's beautiful cemetery; and the Nation would always do honor to their memories.

But the air armada was off once more.

Jack put these thoughts from his mind. They had not expected to carry out their ambitious plans without incurring losses. The price had been paid, and those who came through in safety might congratulate themselves on their good fortune.

Headed for the home camp they left that shambles behind them, for it seemed certain that many Huns must have perished when the fortress was destroyed so completely.

Then all at once Jack remembered something. Tom had almost as much as promised that if half a chance arose while on the way home he meant somehow or other to get "lost" from the main column.

It might not be very hard, seeing that they came at the tail of the procession, and those just ahead would hardly notice the fact if at some time or other they should lag, and vanish from sight. It might be taken for granted that they had simply fallen a little behind, and by putting on a spurt of speed could at any time easily catch up.

At any rate the expedition would not delay, waiting for those who tarried. In an affair of this kind the rule was "every tub on its own bottom," and if accidents occurred the unfortunate plane must drop out, and take its individual chance of getting through in safety.

Jack was wondering just how his chum would act in order to bring about this separation. Hence he was not greatly surprised when Tom called out aloud, so that he could make his voice heard above the incessant whirr of motors added to the buzz of many propellers that filled the air with noise:

"Jack, something seems to be wrong with our engine."

"You don't say!" ejaculated Jack, accompanying the remark with a wide grin; for he suspected that this was only the ruse he had been anticipating.

"I don't seem to be able to get along as smoothly as I did before," continued the pilot.

"Why, it's a fact that we are letting the others outrun us some, Tom. Wouldn't it be just too bad if they went off and left us in the lurch?"

"No joke about it, Jack. Something is really going wrong, and I imagine I'm getting a poor supply of gas. Take a look at the tank, will you, and see if it's all right!"

At that Jack ceased to chuckle. He realized from what the other said that he meant it seriously. Accordingly Jack bestirred himself to carry out the instructions of the pilot, which he was best able to do from his position aft.

A brief interval of silence followed, save for the constant hum of the machinery and the whirling propellers. Then Jack uttered a loud cry that expressed both astonishment and alarm.

"Tom, you guessed it!" he called. "The blooming tank is empty, and we're feeding on the scant reserve in the smaller tank!"

"Try to find out if a bullet cut a hole in the tank, and let our juice run out!" Tom now ordered.

Jack had already started an examination on his own account, and he almost immediately announced a finding.

"Just what happened, Tom!" came his cry, in a tone of dismay mingled with disgust. "Why, there are two holes, one far above the other! I reckon it came from below, after all. But the tank is empty, and only for that automatic feed change, meant for such an emergency, we'd have been running on hot air before now."

"There's not enough petrol in the small tank to take us home, Jack, I'm afraid," Tom called next.

"Then what?" demanded the other eagerly.

"Only one thing left to us, I'm thinking."

"What's that? You're the skipper of this craft, and I take my orders from you. Whatever you say goes."

"We'll have to pick out a nice even spot and land," said the pilot, in the most natural tone imaginable; for he had by now shut off some of his power, and the noise accordingly diminished.

"And try to get enough gas, some way or other, to see us safely on our way—is that the programme, Tom?" queried the observer.

"There's really no other way. If we keep straight on we're likely to be forced to drop right back of the Hun lines, where we'd be gobbled up as quick as a flash."

"Too bad, isn't it?" cried Jack, in mock tones of chagrin. "And, Tom, wouldn't it be queer now, if after we did drop down we should find that we'd actually landed close to a half ruined chateau that's perched on a hilltop, and occupied by a Hun general as headquarters?"

"That would be a strange coincidence, I should call it, Jack."

"But you say we've just got to land somewhere," urged the other.

"No other way out of the mess. It's either that or else take big risks of being captured just back of the Boche lines. Of the two, our chances are better here than there."

"Well, I bow to your judgment, Tom. You know best. But we'd better drop to a much lower level right away, hadn't we?"

"That goes without saying," replied the pilot, setting about taking a dip, at which he was very expert. "As it is now we can't see much of where we are; and the rest of the gang seem to have cleared out entirely. You can hear the stir of their passage getting fainter and fainter all the while."

"We'll have to go pretty far down if we hope to glimpse anything of the character of the country in this poor light," Jack continued, "and, of course, it'll be necessary for you to pick out a clear place for a landing."

"Unless we can we stand to have a smash that'll just ruin everything," Tom cheerfully assured him.

They had begun to fall rapidly. Tom managed it so that this maneuver was carried out in the best possible way calculated to conserve their very limited stock of petrol.

Gradually they began to get a clearer view of the ground, which until then had only appeared in vague outlines to their eyes. Jack soon announced a discovery.

"I can begin to make out the trees in patches, Tom. And see there! That must be the river winding along like a snake over yonder. Didn't we decide that the chateau stood within sight of this very stream, Tom?"

"According to what that Lorrainer told me, it did; and on the left bank in the bargain," admitted Tom.

"Good! And unless I've lost my reckoning entirely I should say we're on the left bank of the river right now."

"Just what we are," came the reassuring answer. "I'm going to drop down another peg or two, so we can pick up some landmark and get our bearings settled. No use in groping about as if we were in a fog. I'll shut off most of our speed and just loaf along. We've got to make that gas see us through, you know, Jack."

"I hope it will, I certainly do!"

Presently the air service boys found themselves passing slowly along over the small ridge that seemed to run parallel with the winding Meuse, though at some little distance from it.

XIX. TOM LEADS THE WAY

"See anything yet, Jack?" asked Tom, after the air service boys had been moving along for a brief time, often so close to the top of the ridge that they could make out the character of the trees growing there.

"Not a thing, Tom. I hope now we haven't made a wrong play, and all this while kept running away from the place."

"No danger of that," and Tom's confident way of saying this gave Jack considerable peace of mind. "There's the river, and we can easily see which way it runs, and this is the left bank all right. We ought to strike that break any minute now. The Lorrainer told me it lay just on the other side of the gap."

"And it seems that some small stream comes through the ridge by way of that valley and joins the Meuse there, you said. But if we don't make a rise pretty soon I'm afraid our goose will be cooked. That little amount of petrol left isn't going to last much longer."

"Hold your horses, and don't cross a bridge before you come to it. Right now I believe I can see something ahead that looks like a dip in the ridge. The chances are it's going to be that gap the man told about."

On hearing this news Jack strained his eyesight more than ever, and soon gave tongue again. No need of using his novel little wireless outfit when the engine was purring so softly and the propellers were revolving just fast enough to keep the plane moving slowly.

"As usual, you're right about that dip. It's there sure enough; and already I more than half believe I can make out something perched on the ridge beyond that's likely to be our chateau."

"Then we've got to be on the lookout for a landing-place," announced the pilot. "It would hardly do to run smack up close to the place. Some of them might happen to be awake, and the sound of our machine would bring them out to investigate. We're taking enough chances as it is, without that."

So he went still lower, just creeping along as it were, and both of them eagerly watched for an open spot.

Tom even circled so as to come down near the low ground at the foot of the ridge. No doubt they would have a far better chance to run across a landing-place there than where the ground was rocky and more precipitous. They had also to bear in mind that it would be necessary to make an ascent later on, if all went well; which must require a certain amount of ground level enough to make the preliminary run.

After all it was Jack who made the discovery, Tom's attention being in part taken up with the requirements necessary to his function as pilot.

"There, I saw what looked like a decent spot, Tom—we just passed it by on the right. Try to turn around, and we'll look it over again as we go. Seemed plenty big enough, I thought, though I'd like to have a second peep before we decide to try to land."

This time Tom, too, used his eyes to good advantage, and hardly had they swung past before Jack was asking, in rather subdued tones now:

"How about it, Tom? Think we can make the riffle all right, in this poor light?"

Tom did not hesitate to answer this important question.

"I'm willing to try, Jack. If we're carrying our usual luck we'll land so easy we could hardly break an egg between us. Be ready for your part of the game now."

Jack waited, with his nerves all a-tremble. He knew that everything must depend on Tom's success in effecting a safe landing. Any breakage might upset all their plans, and possibly result in their ultimate capture by the Huns; for when morning came they would have to expose themselves in seeking food, and once they were identified as Americans they would soon be run down.

If ever Tom had reason to exert himself to the utmost in order to make a safe landing, it was then. He came up in the face of what little breeze was stirring, just as a bird invariably alights against the wind, and not with it.

Jack held his breath. Nearer and still nearer they dropped. Now he felt the rubber-tired wheels under the plane strike the ground lightly. They were actually rolling along, jolting more or less, it was true, but nothing so very unusual after all.

With a slight jar the plane came to a sudden stop. Jack, who had freed himself from his safety belt in preparation for this moment, was over like a flash; but although there was a slight slant to the ground the plane displayed no inclination to run backwards.

"Beautifully done," Jack hastened to say.

"Not so loud!" cautioned the other. "We don't know where we are yet, you see. Here's green grass around us, and trees close by. It may be some back dooryard to a house, for all we can tell."

"You just grazed the top of that last tree, Tom—the weeping willowy kind of one over there—but it had to be done to make the landing. Where do we go from here?"

Perhaps that phrase fell naturally from Jack's lips, for he had been singing a song with those identical words earlier on that very evening, with some of his rollicking companions at the Y. M. C. A. hut.

"As soon as we can get our bearings we want to find a road," his chum explained.

"Sure thing. And there ought to be one around, else how would folks get up to that chateau?" Jack demanded. "I suppose we'll have to see after the supply of gas the first thing."

"That was settled beforehand," came the reply. "Now we ought to get our bearings down pat before leaving the old bus here."

"It would be a bad joke on us for a fact, Tom, if we wandered off, and then after picking up a few gallons of petrol—even one, if it came down to that quantity, would serve—and then couldn't for the life of us find where we left the plane. Yes, let's skirmish around, and locate things in our minds."

Accordingly they started to move to the right, gradually widening the circle they made around the plane resting on the open grassy stretch of ground.

"Now we've got to the trees, you notice," said Tom. "Once we pass them by, I think we'll come out on a road which will lead away from here."

Jack clutched his companion by the arm just then, and in an agitated whisper hurriedly said:

"What can those queer white things be over there, Tom? I can see many of them. They're squatting close down to the ground mostly; but there's one or two that stand up higher. Ugh! they look like ghosts to me in this half darkness. Can you make out whether or not they move?"

The other chuckled almost immediately.

"This is certainly a queer stunt for us, Jack," he said. "I've managed to make a landing in a good many outlandish places in times gone by, but this is the first time I ever dropped plump down in a graveyard!"

"What's that? And, say! are those white things gravestones? Well, I believe you're right. I can see now they're perfectly motionless. The joke's on me, I reckon. But I'm glad they are harmless old stones, and not anything to make the creeps go over a fellow."

Tom could hear Jack draw a long breath as he said this, from which he judged that his chum had had something of a shock. Closer inspection proved the truth of Tom's assertion. They were gravestones, mostly of a very modest type, and resting close to the ground. Here and there, however, one more pretentious raised its head some five or six feet high.

Better still, they came upon what seemed to be a road running through the country cemetery that, if followed, would undoubtedly take them to the one leading up to the chateau perched on the ridge above.

"Must be some sort of old French village around this neighborhood," observed Jack. "Many of these stones are partly covered with moss, as if they were terribly old. But then this may be a private burial place for the family that once lived for years and years in that big castle."

"That's nothing to us just now," Tom reminded him. "What we're interested in is whether this road will lead us up there, and if we can make sure of finding our plane again when we come back. Remember that everything will be just the opposite; what's right to us now will be on the left then."

"Oh, I learned that dodge long ago when I took up the study of woodcraft," Jack announced confidently. "Can't fool me on a little wrinkle like that, if I know it."

"Come along, and we'll make a start," Tom urged.

"Feels to me just as if we were two of those old-time crusaders, starting out to rescue a Christian maiden from the Saracens. Only in our case the girl is a mite of six, with a twin sister just breaking her baby heart over her loss."

"Stop firing," said Tom, with a vein of authority in his voice; causing the talkative Jack to remember that there were times when silence could be called "golden."

"I'm dumb as a clam, Tom," he announced; and probably really meant it, so far as a limited time went. But if anything at all out of the ordinary happened Jack could no more help whispering than he could give up eating and expect to live.

But even Tom felt that there was considerable truth in that assertion made by his chum. They were engaged in a most peculiar errand, though actuated by motives that did them both credit. And as they stole carefully along the country road heading toward the foot of the ridge upon which the old partly wrecked French chateau stood, both boys realized more than ever what chances they were accepting in making this bold move.

XX. BORROWED GOODS

Again did Jack pluck at the sleeve of his companion. Remembering his recently given promise, however, he waited to have Tom say the first word before breaking the silence.

"What is it?" asked Tom softly.

"Just made a discovery."

"Let's hear it."

"The old chateau is inhabited, all right," came Jack's assertion. "Tell you how I know. If you take a peep from here, between these trees, you'll notice that one wing is all lighted up."

"It certainly looks that way for a fact, Jack. The general must be having company, I should say."

"Maybe other officers have come back here to consult with Von Berthold about how to hold the Americans tight," chuckled Jack, as if according to his way of thinking they would have all their trouble for their pains, as there was nothing that the Hun army could attempt capable of effecting that end.

"Just as like as not," his chum assented. "And as it's a serious subject, they're staying late to-night."

"Good reason," chortled the other; "because in three more days old Von will have to be vacating his comfy quarters here, and moving back in the direction of Sedan. Pershing wants this ridge, and means to take it in double-quick time, once we're out of the Argonne Forest. But do you think the fact that there's company around will upset our plans, Tom?"

"I'd rather believe it will help us in one way," replied his chum.

"How?"

"In the first place, it's apt to keep the general busy, and we'll know just where he is. That'll be worth something to us. Then again, we've got to consider how these generals got over here from the fighting front."

"Oh, they happen to have motor cars they can use," said Jack quickly. Any shortage of gasoline doesn't stop German officers from speeding across country, especially when on war business.

"Exactly," Tom said drily. "And it's some of their precious petrol that we're wanting so badly right now, and to get which you're carrying that little bucket."

At that the other chuckled as if highly amused.

"Well, what a gump I was not to think of that myself," he observed. "Why of course we may find a chance to borrow a gallon or two from the reservoir of their car, if only the soldier chauffeur happens to stray away to get a cold snack in the kitchen of the general's headquarters, or something like that. Tom, it's a peach of a scheme, and so simple!"

"All right, well go ahead then. And close up again, please, unless you hit on another important discovery, when I give you leave to whisper it in my ear."

The advance was resumed. The air service boys now started to climb quite an incline, proving that the road which they had been following latterly must pass close to the chateau.

Now and then they caught fresh glimpses of the building that stood out in bold relief against the heavens. They also noted that the lights still continued to shine in the right wing of the building. This must be the uninjured part, Jack imagined, if indeed the chateau had been partly wrecked by the Germans before the general took it as his headquarters.

In this fashion they gradually cut down the space separating them from the object of their concern. Tom it was this time who made a discovery. He came to a stop, and putting his head close to that of his chum whispered in his ear:

"We're in great luck, Jack. I can make out two cars standing in the road before the chateau. The general must be holding a regular council of war up here, to settle some big matters."

"He'll settle them, all right, believe me," muttered Jack. "But it'll have to be a scuttle policy. Those Huns are licked, yes, licked good and hard. They're just beginning to know it, too. We're proving too much for their backbone to stand. Well, two cars means we're going to have a double chance to get our little bucket filled with the juice, Tom."

"Seems like it," was all the other allowed to pass his lips, as he once more commenced to advance.

They kept to the side of the road. Here trees were growing, and while the leaves were coming down fast after a frost, at the same time plenty still remained capable of affording shade in the daytime and making shadows at night.

Under the trees they could glide along without much danger of detection in case a sentry had been posted in front of the chateau. Both boys looked sharply again, striving to find out whether either of the military cars had an occupant.

So far as they could see, this did not happen to be the case, although cautious Tom would not wholly believe it until he had looked further. Wearied by the long wait, the drivers might have gone to sleep inside the closed cars.

Like a couple of creeping ghosts the air service boys now advanced. The cars stood close together, facing the same way, which Jack considered a lucky thing for their designs.

Tom pressed him back as if to bid him wait, pail in hand, while he took upon himself the task of learning what they might expect. Making his way to the nearest car he peeped in. To his satisfaction there was no occupant. Repeating his action he ascertained that the second car also was empty.

So he gave a low chirp. Jack recognized an old signal, often used between them in days past. It meant he could come on without fear of trouble. And Jack, eager, as he was, to secure some of the petrol, did not linger a second longer than was absolutely necessary.

"Let's get busy, Jack," his chum told him, as he came up behind the nearest car. "I'll keep watch, and you try your hand at cribbing some of their gas juice."

While Jack did not claim to be an expert at the business of transferring petrol from one tank to another, or into a gaping vessel, he believed he would be able to manage. They must get what they needed, if not one way, then through other means. Necessity knows no law, and their very lives, certainly their liberty, was placed in peril by this impotence on the part of their plane.

Jack kept mumbling softly to himself as he worked. He seemed at first to meet with considerable difficulty, judging from the tone of his muttering. In fact, Tom had even turned to offer his assistance when he plainly caught the gurgle of running fluid and immediately sniffed the air strongly impregnated with the odor of petrol.

That told the story. While Jack continued to grumble he was actually acquitting himself with credit. So Tom chose not to interfere, but allowed his comrade to finish the work.

Once he thought he heard a gruff voice from somewhere over the wall of the chateau. He even feared they would be interrupted by the coming of the chauffeurs, who may have received word from their masters that a start was about to be made.

This, however, greatly to Tom's relief, proved to be a false alarm, for no one appeared. But there was Jack muttering again.

"Got every drop of juice this tank holds, Tom, and still not as much as I'd like to carry back. Shall I tackle the other car? I'd like to clean both of 'em out while about it, even if I have to waste some. Might save us heaps of trouble later on, if they were stalled here."

"Please yourself, but hurry above all things," Tom begged him.

"Just getting the hang of things now, and the second one will go a lot better than the first," Jack assured him.

Finally the work was accomplished. Jack seemed proud of his ability to purloin the badly needed stock of petrol. He chuckled as he turned to Tom to announce that he was through.

"Oh, me! Oh, my! But won't there be a hopping mad crowd around here when they find out that their gas tanks are both empty? By then I hope we'll be merrily on our way to camp, able to snap our fingers at the raging Boche, and with a little passenger aboard our plane. Back to the graves for us it is, Tom. Time for all spooks to climb into their holes again and disappear."

"Keep quiet, can't you, Jack!" whispered Tom. "You'll queer the whole business yet if you don't watch out. Come on, and don't leave a trail of gasoline to help them follow us."

The air service boys turned their backs on the chateau, but Jack hoped it would be only a temporary absence for them. He was already beginning to worry about something else, and of course could not keep his troubles to himself very long. Consequently when they were about half way back he again broke out.

"Just happened to think of a thing that's going to bother us some, I'm afraid, Tom," he suggested.

"What now?" demanded the other.

"If we chuck this stuff into our gas tank, why, out she's bound to pour through those two holes the bullet made, and that's a fact, Tom."

"Is that all?" asked the other indifferently. "I've got everything handy to repair those holes in almost two shakes of a lamb's tail. You leave it to me, Jack."

"You better believe I will, and mighty glad of the chance. Why, do you know, just the idea scared me stiff. But I do remember now that you always make it a point to carry along several wooden plugs and some wax calculated to make an air-tight joint. With that outfit you can soon have the tank plugged so it won't leak a drop. Bully for you, Tom!"

"I should have looked after that before we left the plane," admitted Tom. "But the fact was I wanted to take a turn around first; and then when we struck the road it sort of led us on and on. But it's all right, Jack."

XXI. AT THE OLD CHATEAU

The air service boys had no difficulty in retracing their steps, especially since Tom, with his usual caution, had been careful to remember the spot where the main road was joined by that coming from the country cemetery.

Once again they made their way past the ghostly looking stones.

"I can see our boomer now, Tom!" Jack cried, as if he had been a little afraid that something had happened while they were absent, and that they would find the airplane missing.

"You want to be mighty careful of that stuff," his chum warned him, as Jack stumbled over some unnoticed object, and only retained his balance by a supreme effort.

"That's a fact," mumbled the other. "Especially as there's no more where this lot came from. I attended to that, all right. But here we are, and now to get the holes plugged up."

"At last my time to make use of that little outfit has arrived!" Tom exclaimed. "I've carried it for months, thinking I'd need it badly some day or other. Well, that time is on us, and this repays me for all my trouble. Set that pail down, and be ready to lend a hand, Jack."

He fumbled in a pocket of the body of the plane, producing a small roll, which, upon being opened, disclosed several plugs of soft wood, such as might easily swell if moistened. There was also some wax, the kind fruit growers use in grafting new scions on old trees.

Tom carefully examined one of the holes in order to learn its exact dimensions.

"Just as I expected, it's perfectly round in shape, which makes it easier to plug up," he announced, pleased with his discovery.

A minute later he had fitted one of the wooden pegs in tightly. Then he used the wax, which was just hard enough for his purpose.

"That one is finished, and I think it will hold fairly well," he remarked, somewhat to the surprise, as well as delight, of his companion, who had anticipated that it would take much longer.

"You're a sure-enough wizard, all right, Tom," was his gratified comment. "Why, you're getting things put through in a jiffy. But I hope there isn't any danger of the petrol acting on the wax, and causing a quick leak."

"I've tested it, and feel certain it will hold for an hour or so, anyhow, Jack. And by then we ought to be back in camp."

"Will, if we have any luck at all," asserted Jack.

"Now I'll get busy on the other hole," continued Tom. "Though that isn't so important, as it's at the top of the reservoir. Still, it might be just as well to close it up in order to avoid waste. Besides, there's always danger of an explosion if your tank sprinkles this deadly stuff around."

Jack took occasion to step aside to where he could look up between the trees and glimpse the dimly seen chateau, knowing now just where to look for it. When he came back he had information to impart that he thought would please Tom.

"Still a blaze up there, Tom, showing that the conference isn't over yet."

Presently Tom straightened up.

"That is all done," he announced, in a satisfied tone. "And done well in the bargain. Now bring along your gas, and be careful how you pour it in. By good luck I've got a funnel that can be used. I'll hold it while you start things going, Jack. Easy now, no hurry; every drop is precious remember!"

The contents of the little pail was presently successfully transferred into the reservoir which Tom had so adroitly mended after its rough treatment at the hands of the Huns who worked the "Archies," or anti-aircraft guns.

Tom gave a sigh of relief when that part of the proceeding was finished. He had entertained a little fear that Jack, in his haste to get things over with, might spill the precious fluid on which so much depended.

Afterwards Tom examined for himself, and was satisfied.

"Not a sign of a leak yet, and there isn't going to be either," he told his companion, not exultantly, but nevertheless with confidence that a belief in the staying qualities of his own work justified.

"Now we can get going on the second part of our programme," Jack returned, as he once more cast a steady look toward the height on which the chateau stood.

"No need of staying here another minute, Jack. Nobody knows just what's going on over there, or how long those visitors mean to stay."

"All the same," the other air service boy mentioned, as if casually, "General von Berthold is giving his guests a regular jolly time of it. In these days of war I reckon the Huns are missing pretty much all their favorite drinks, and when they do strike a cellar full—and I guess they have it here—it's like drawing teeth to pry them loose. Listen, don't you hear them at it now?"

Indeed, it would have been impossible for any one with ordinary hearing, when within half a mile of the chateau, not to have heard what Jack referred to. Some one was singing at the top of his voice, and a heavy voice he had in the bargain. He kept time with the rhythm of his song by repeated poundings on a table with what might have been a stein.

"Well, what nerve!" ejaculated Jack. "It's the Watch on the Rhine he's trolling, as sure as you live!"

"And with the whole bunch joining in the chorus in the bargain," added Tom, as the burst of singing suddenly grew stronger in volume. "They utterly refuse to believe they're whipped flat, even with the Americans ready to step over into Germany and mop 'em up all the way to Berlin."

"Huh!" snorted Jack disdainfully, "we'll soon be the ones keeping watch on the Rhine, see if we'll not. Only sillies with their wits flabbergasted by pride would shut their eyes to the handwriting on the wall. But I'm not sorry, for if they keep on enjoying themselves in that way we'll find it an easy job to roam all over the old shack, looking for Helene."

They were walking briskly along while exchanging these remarks in guarded tones. Greatly to their satisfaction they met no one while on the road. They had both wondered whether General von Berthold did not have a bodyguard camped somewhere near his headquarters, some of whom were likely to be moving about; though, to be sure, the hour was late for that sort of thing.

When they arrived at the scene of their previous escapade it was to find that one of the military chauffeurs had returned, and was even then taking a look at the engine of his car, for he struck several matches, and was thrusting his head down close to the machinery.

They halted to watch. A minute afterwards he tidied things up again, and Jack, hearing his loud yawn, decided he could not have discovered that some one had been meddling with his petrol supply.

Then the soldier vanished inside his big car, as though to find a comfortable seat, if his masters chose to linger an hour longer in celebrating with General von Berthold.

Tom led the way around, now approaching the building from an angle where they would be screened from the observation of the driver, did he chance to have his eyes open. They also took care to be ready to duck and lie low, in case the other chauffeur came from the back of the chateau.

But nothing happened to endanger them, and presently they were seeking a means of entering the castle. This proved the easiest thing possible, for there were no locks or bars attached to the door they tried. Once this barrier had been passed, they found themselves in a great hall, just such as Jack had always believed, from his reading, must be connected with every such old-time castle.

A light burned low. It was in itself a quaint lamp, and at another time the boys might have found themselves very much interested in it as a relic of times long since past.

Of course there could be no system of modern lighting in use at such an isolated habitation. Besides, electricity would have seemed sadly out of place in connection with so much that belonged to bygone days.

The tall lamp on the newel post at the foot of the broad stairway gave enough light to show one where to walk; and just then the two prowlers asked for nothing more.

Over to the right lay the wing that had not suffered from the work of the Hun despoiler. It was there the German general entertained his associates, discussing business until a late hour; and then giving themselves up to a little social enjoyment, which evidently became so pleasant that it was hard to break away.

The boys decided that since this wing was the only decent part of the building remaining, they were apt to find the object of their search in one of the many rooms it contained.

Having no guide to assist them, they must make a thorough search, neglecting no possible room where the little girl might be sleeping.

Of course their dodging about the corridors would be accompanied by more or less danger of discovery. There must be attendants moving about, for the Hun general would not inhabit this chateau unless he could have subordinates at his beck and call.

Once let any of these see strangers moving about with the air of spies—well, Jack imagined it would be nip and tuck with them as to whether they would be shot down like rats, get away by a close shave, or fall into the hands of the Huns, which last, he felt, would be the very worst fate that could befall them.

"It's upstairs for us, Jack." And with these words Tom led the way, headed for the upper floors of the chateau, even as a door opened and they heard a wild gust of uproarious chorus echo along the corridor leading to the dining hall in the right wing.

XXII. INVADING THE TIGER'S DEN

Tom, just as soon as they had entered the great hall, had fixed his eyes on several old-time figures that stood in niches, each representing some period of the history of early France and showing the type of armor worn by the fighting knights of those days.

"Hide behind that knight there! Quick, Jack!" he now hissed into the ear of his comrade.

Jack understood.

As quick as a flash both of the air service boys shot toward their separate goals. Shuffling footsteps sounded that told of some one coming; but thanks to the swiftness of their movements the boys managed to conceal themselves in time.

Peeping out from behind the coats of chained mail that screened them Jack and Tom fastened their eyes on the advancing figure. Just as they expected, it proved to be a soldier who had the task of serving while the general was celebrating with his friends and fellow officers.

He was carrying a tray on which were several empty bottles, and it could be easily guessed that the soldier had been sent for a further supply of wine from the cellar below.

They could hear him mumbling to himself, as though not very happy, despite his opportunities to tilt the bottles up and drain the last drop left in each. This he was doing now as the boys watched, but continuing to mutter.

Then they saw him draw his sleeve across his face, and when he took it down to the astonishment of the watchers there were streaks of blood marking both cheeks and nose. Evidently General von Berthold was considerable of a bully and tyrant when in his cups, even as he may have been a severe martinet when on duty.

Jack ground his teeth at seeing this exhibition of pettiness on the part of the general. He had heard more than once that German officers, from sub-lieutenants upward, were terribly severe with their men, treating them brutally, and acting as though they were themselves of a superior class; but this was the first time he had actually come in contact with anything of the kind.

"What fools!" Jack muttered to himself. "Why can't they take a lesson from Russia, where the people have risen and put ever so many of their former officers to death. And Russian commanders were gentle beside these domineering brutes. But they'll get their dose some day before long, that's as sure as fate. And poor little Helene!" Jack's heart was heavy as he thought of his little protégé's sister.

The man picked up his tray again and went stumbling along the hall, still muttering, then chuckling half hysterically, as though some pleasant thought had flashed across his mind. Jack imagined he must be anticipating a day of reckoning that was coming—a day when old scores would be wiped out and the slate be made clean for a new deal.

More than ever Jack was determined that little Helene should not be left in the charge of such an ill-tempered man. If General von Berthold could show such spleen because his man servant displeased him slightly he was apt to treat a child cruelly.

But the coast being clear, Tom issued forth and beckoned to his companion to come along. They hastened up the broad stairs of the chateau, reaching the second floor without mishap.

Here they found a maze of passages that would have puzzled any one lacking the ability Tom possessed for solving riddles.

"Which way next?" Jack whispered in dismay, as he turned from one to another of the various passageways branching off from the main hall.

"Always keep to the right," answered his companion. "Remember that wing is the only one saved from the wreck."

He himself was looking at the floor, for there was sufficient light to enable him to see. Jack's eyes followed those of his chum, and he could not keep from uttering a low exclamation of admiration as he comprehended the system Tom was following.

When the vandals had attempted several times to wreck the chateau in a general spirit of destructiveness, the dust had settled heavily over everything. They had noticed it down below, and on the stairs as well, as they came along. It was up here, too, on the floor of the main hall, as well as those in various passages leading into unknown depths of the great building.

Tom was selecting that passage which he could see from the multitude of footprints had been most generally used. It was indeed a clever idea of the air service boy's, and one that promised to be crowned with success.

"We'll go this way, and try it out," he told Jack, commencing to move along as he spoke.

Jack, for a wonder, was silent. Truth to tell, he found himself lost in admiration of the cleverness shown by his chum, and of the plan which he felt certain would never have occurred to him.

When the light became dim Tom was provided with a supply of matches, which fact further surprised and humiliated Jack, because on investigating his own pockets he could produce only two matches.

They went down several steps, only to mount again to the same level a few minutes later. Jack could easily believe they must have reached the extremity of that extensive right wing. He caught the sound of heavy voices in discussion, coming from exactly below; which told him the dining-hall must be in that quarter.

So far they had fortunately met no one. Jack wondered what would happen if they should come upon a sentry standing guard, perhaps over the apartment where the general slept when he could tear himself away from his pleasures and his work. But his confidence in Tom had mounted to such heights by now that he expected his pilot would be equal to even that occasion.

Then Tom stopped short.

He seemed to be examining something at his feet, for he had struck one more of his matches. Jack, seeing him look at a closed door, fancied that their search was in a fair way of coming to a successful end.

No sooner had the match expired than Tom gently tried the door. He did not seem very much surprised to find it locked. Bending down he next proceeded to examine the lock, for it seemed to be provided with one, though many of the other doors were not, such things not being in general use in the centuries back, when this ancient pile of stone was built.

He turned to his companion and whispered encouragingly.

"She must be in that room, for many feet have passed in and out. Among the footprints close by here are several small, childish ones. We are surely on the right track, Jack."

"H'm! but the door seems to be fast. And I suppose the key is in von Berthold's pocket right now. How in the wide world are we going to get in there to save Helene?"

"We'll settle that," snapped Tom. "There's always a way to do a thing. On either side there's a door. Let's see if one of those happens to be unfastened."

The very first trial brought success, and Jack began to feel a glow of coming good fortune. If they were not interrupted in their work he believed that nothing could long withstand such a determined spirit as Tom always injected into anything he undertook. It accounted for his successes in school sports, and he carried the same characteristic with him into army service.

They passed into the dark recesses of the room that seemed to adjoin the one of the locked door. Jack could see a window ahead, for a certain amount of light filtered through the small dusty diamond-shaped panes of glass. He even noted a tree without, its branches moving in the breeze that crossed this ridge elevation, though they had not felt it down in the valley.

Tom closed the door after them. Then again he struck a match, eager to survey their surroundings before attacking the problem that now presented itself.

Some old-time furniture could be seen, but in a dilapidated condition, as though vandal hands had used an ax on the rare wood, regardless of its value. Dust lay everywhere, dust that may have come from the frequent explosion of grenades used in the process of demolition.

The match went out, leaving Jack still staring about him. It seemed like a strange dream to him, anything but a reality. But there was Tom shuffling across to the window. Jack began to get a grip on the probable scheme that had appealed to his chum, and also a grip on himself, for he suddenly realized that he had not been doing his part.

Why, of course, the only possible way of reaching that other room would be through means of a connecting link; and this could be furnished through the windows.

Tom was already leaning out, and investigating affairs. It was a precarious moment and the decision to be arrived at was important. But having come this far, and taken such desperate chances, they must keep going until success had crowned their efforts, or it was proved that absolutely nothing could be accomplished.

Tom turned and beckoned to his comrade.

"It can be done, don't you think, Jack? But we must be very careful," came in softest tones. "There's a narrow projecting ledge that will serve us for a footing; but we must make sure of every step, because a tumble would break our necks."

Jack peered out and looked carefully about.

"Yes," he finally announced, "this is our only chance. But as Jeanne and Helene are my especial care I'm going first, Tom. I've already imposed on you and not done my full share since entering the chateau."

With these words Jack crawled out of the window.

XXIII. THE ONLY WAY

As Tom leaned out of the window he could just manage to see the figure of his chum flattened against the stone wall of the chateau. Jack was clinging close, like a human fly might have done, clutching some object which allowed him to move his feet along the slender ledge.

"Come on; it's all right!" floated back in a whisper.

Tom was not waiting to be assured on that point. Already he had pushed his body halfway over the window-sill, and his groping feet sought the friendly ledge. Then he, too, started to shuffle along, finding some means for holding himself there.

Of course it was not pleasant to contemplate a fall. The air service boys knew there was a considerable depth lying below, and it might be that hard stones lay there.

They refused, however, to allow themselves to think of such a possibility. Besides, it was only a matter of a dozen feet or so, when the adjoining window would be within their reach.

Why, there was Jack crawling over the sill even as Tom was fairly on the way, proving that the feat was an easy one after all.

Tom, following in Jack's footsteps, had one thrill when his foot slipped and for a brief space of time he actually feared he was about to take the downward plunge. Fortunately he had a desperate hold with the hand just thrust forward, and this kept him in place until he could search out another hand-grip.

It caused him to pant with the extra exertion, and he was breathing like a spent runner when he too crept into the room. Here Jack's voice was at his ear whispering:

"Some one asleep here, for I can hear soft breathing over yonder, where I think there's a cot." He proceeded to draw Tom after him, though both were down on their knees at the time, with groping hands extended in front of them.

Now Jack knew he was alongside the cot, for the sleeper had stirred restlessly. Then the regular breathing was resumed, though Jack believed he had heard something akin to a sigh well forth.

He put out his hands and gently felt to make sure that it was a child, for any mistake at this stage would prove most serious.

"Helene!"

Jack uttered the name softly, but the breathing still continued. Again did he speak, this time raising his voice slightly. He knew that he must have succeeded in awakening the little sleeper; doubtless she was lying there wondering whether it might be all a dream. Perhaps she even thought it was her mother calling her from her slumber.

Tom now ventured to approach a little nearer, ready to act on the spur of the moment should the child be frightened and start to scream.

"Helene, we are friends of your sister Jeanne," Jack said. "She is in good hands, and on her way to Paris. We have come to try to take you to her. Do not be frightened, Helene. We are two American boys, and if you will only trust us we promise to carry you away from here. Have courage and tell me that you are not afraid to go with us to Jeanne."

The sympathetic Jack found a little hand, for the child suddenly sat upright. This he continued to pat gently even as he and Tom continued to reassure her. Perhaps his manner of doing this influenced Helene even more than their words, which of course she could hardly understand as yet, after being so suddenly awakened.

"Oh, I am so glad you have come from Jeanne," she finally managed to say, though her childish voice vibrated from the effect of her recent alarm.

"And will you gladly go away with us, Helene?" asked Jack. "You are not happy here with your uncle, are you?"

"Oh, no, no! He is so unkind," she said with a shudder that Jack could easily detect. "He even whipped me because I cried for my mother and Jeanne. So I will go with you, and do anything you say."

How understandingly she talked for one so young! Jack had marveled that Jeanne should show such remarkable qualities and appear so self-reliant; and apparently Helene was like her. But, alas, war had aged even the babies caught in its snare.

"Listen, Helene," Jack went on to say, "do you think you could dress yourself without having a light?"

"Oh, yes, m'sieu, I am sure I can!"

That caused Tom to chuckle with relief, for he felt pretty certain that neither he nor Jack could have managed that, even if given all the illumination heart might wish. And, moreover, Tom felt that he, at least, did not want to try.

"Then get your clothes on just as fast as you can, Helene," said Tom. "We will be waiting, and trying to figure out what the next move shall be."

His last words reminded Jack of the fact that they were now faced by another knotty problem. If the door was locked and the key safe in the possession of the gruff old general below, how then could they take the child away?

He knew it would be utterly impossible to get her to the other window by means of that ledge; for the task had been difficult enough when both hands were free.

But evidently resourceful Tom had already conceived a plan for he was busying himself with the cot from which Helene had so recently arisen and now called to Jack.

Close by the child could be heard moving about, as her nimble little fingers secured first one article of apparel and then another, spurred on by the wild hope of once more seeing her dearly beloved sister.

Jack, pushing forward, found his chum had turned the cot over, and seemed to be working swiftly at something.

"What have you found, Tom?" he asked.

"As luck would have it, Jack, this cot has a rope under the mattress in place of the usual spring. And it seems to be a good stout rope in the bargain, I'm glad to tell you."

"Now I get you, Tom! Good! We can slip down that way."

"If the rope turns out to be long enough. I can put Helene in your arms and drop you down. Then I can follow. I'd rather go about it some other way, but with this locked door we haven't any choice."

"Why, I think it a cracking good scheme," said Jack.

"Listen!" exclaimed Tom. "Doesn't it strike you that there's talking going on outside now?"

"You're right," agreed the other, almost immediately. "I do believe those Hun officers are making a move at last. Now there's going to be some fun let loose when they find that both cars are shy on gas."

"That may be," muttered Tom. "But I wish they'd chosen to hang on for just another half hour. I'd ask nothing better. Helene, how are you getting on, child?"

"I am almost ready, m'sieu," came back in a childish voice that quite thrilled Jack's heart. "I have only to slip my shoes on now and then I shall be ready."

Jack followed his chum over to the window, for by this time the entire rope had been secured from the cot. Tom tested its strength as well as he was able, and found reason to believe it was stanch enough to bear a double burden if necessary.

Loud talking now came from in front of the chateau. Evidently the general had gone out to see his guests off. The chauffeurs could be heard cranking their cars desperately, sounds which gave Jack considerable delight. Apparently their ill success had already begun to arouse suspicions in the minds of the two drivers that something was amiss, for the cranking suddenly ceased, and the watchers from the upper window of the chateau could see feeble lights moving about.

These they knew were matches held by the soldiers while they looked over the motors of their cars. After darkness had come again loud cries arose to tell that the alarming discovery had been made that tanks which the chauffeurs swore had contained a fair amount of petrol at the time they drew up before the chateau, were now most mysteriously empty!

The officers chimed in with expletives that came splutteringly from their lips, so that altogether it was a scene of confusion and excitement which was taking place in front of the old building. One particularly rasping voice Jack fancied must belong to the general himself. He pitied those two wretched chauffeurs, who would be apt to feel the displeasure of their superiors in some way altogether unpleasant.

What the outcome of the affair might be Jack had no idea, nor did he care a particle. All he asked was to be given a chance to make off with Helene while the row was in progress. Once they reached the waiting plane, he felt they could snap their fingers at not only General von Berthold but the entire Hun army as well.

Jack wondered whether this sudden outbreak, and the change in conditions in front of the chateau, would make any difference with Tom. Fortunately that tree afforded partial shelter, and besides, those on the road had but meagre means for striking a light, so it seemed reasonably safe for them to proceed.

"Be brave, Helene," Jack said in her ear, as Tom passed the rope out of the window, having meanwhile fastened one end to an anchorage inside the room. "It is for Jeanne's sake, remember. Do not be afraid that I will let you fall. And above all things keep from crying out, or he will hear you and hold you with him always. Will you let me take you in my arms, Helene?"

"Oh, yes, yes! I am not afraid. See, m'sieu, I can put my arms about your neck this way, and clasp you tight. For Jeanne I would do anything! You will not hear me say one word, no matter what happens, m'sieu!"

XXIV. TOM KEEPS HIS WORD

The air service boys did not hesitate.

Tom had mapped out the course, to which Jack had agreed, and they were ready to undertake the task set before them.

Tom hastened to help lift the little girl, so that his chum might get a firm clasp with one arm around her. He also knew that Helene's instinctive action in clinging to Jack's neck would greatly assist matters.

Now Jack was sliding down. Tom's heart seemed to be in his throat with suspense. Would the rope hold? He hoped age had not weakened the strands, so that a sudden extra strain might cause it to part. Still he had tested as best he could. It would hold—it must hold.

The seconds slipped by, though if Tom's feelings had been consulted they might be said to drag; for it seemed an age before he knew that Jack had safely landed by the sudden slackening of the rope.

How eagerly did Tom clamber over the window-sill and start downward! It was a mere nothing to him, accustomed to all sorts of athletic action. He quickly found himself alongside the crouching figure of Jack, who still held the child in his arm as if to reassure her.

Louder than ever came the babel of voices from the road. The officers had, it seemed, finally come to believe what the chauffeurs were saying. Some unknown prowler had stolen their petrol while they waited for the coming of their officers. The thought was demoralizing. The loud, sharp whistle that now came to the ears of the air service boys must mean a general alarm. There must be a body of troops in camp somewhere back of the chateau. These would be quickly on the scene, ready to scour the whole neighborhood, in the hope of ferreting out the spy who had been trying to discover the subject of the consultation, or council of war.

Tom now took the lead. The sooner they made off the better for their chances of ultimate escape. Delay now might lose them the game, for it was to be expected that with the alarm once given all avenues of escape would be closed, and a cordon of troops thrown around the chateau, in hope of enmeshing the prowler.

This getting away required some clever work, because if they were discovered it would be next to impossible to slip through, with Helene to be carried, for of course the child could not run fast enough. Jack clasped the child in his arms and followed close on Tom's heels. Dodging, and taking advantage of such cover as presented itself they succeeded in passing beyond what seemed to be the danger point. If equally successful in eluding any soldiers who might be running toward the chateau in response to the imperative summons of the general, they could call themselves lucky indeed.

"Somebody coming ahead there, Tom!" gasped Jack suddenly, as he caught the hasty patter of footsteps.

"Into these bushes, and get down on all fours!" Tom ordered, setting the action himself.

Hardly had they succeeded in leaving the road and concealing themselves in this way than several bounding figures came into sight. They were German soldiers without doubt, their spiked helmets could be seen and also the glitter of guns in their hands could be caught.

Once they had rushed past, Tom again took to the road. The danger from such sudden encounters was great, but there was no other way for them to proceed. And in order to escape it was necessary that they reach the cemetery where the big bombing plane awaited their coming.

Once again did they have a thrill. This was when a figure crashed out of a thicket without warning, and came face to face with them. He, too, was a soldier, who had possibly taken a short cut through the thickets in order to reach the road the sooner.

He uttered a startled exclamation. With the shrill sound of the alarm whistle still echoing through the valley below, of course his suspicions would be aroused by seeing two figures clad in the garments of aviators, and bearing away with them the child he, in common with his fellows, may have noticed playing near the chateau on sunshiny days.

His actions were so hostile that Tom, acting instantaneously, gave him a blow with the weighty club he had picked up a moment before.

It must have been a well-aimed blow, for the soldier fell in a heap, and his helmet rolled on the ground.

Jack, unable to resist the temptation to gather in the spoils as a souvenir of the event, snatched this metal headgear up. Then he rushed headlong after Tom, who was making off down the slope at full speed.

Just as Jack, still carrying Helene, but making good time, overtook his chum, he heard a fearful shouting back of him. Jack ground his teeth with rage, for he could easily guess what it all meant. The soldier who had been attacked must have recovered quickly. He was now running in the direction of the chateau and shouting in German.

While, of course, Jack was not able to tell exactly what it was he yelled, he could give a guess that it meant:

"Here they are! This way everybody. The French dogs are here!"

Of course that would mean immediate pursuit. It complicated the situation, too, because even though they were fortunate enough to gain the country cemetery before the searching party came up, they might be prevented from getting away.

It was down-grade, and that helped a little, if Jack could only hold out. The little girl was no light weight, and carrying such a burden was apt to delay even a good runner like Jack, who was already getting short of breath. But Tom could get the airplane ready to make a quick start as soon as Jack and his burden should reach the cemetery.

The sounds continued to break out in their rear.

They had now reached the bottom of the ridge, Tom well in advance. The level valley lay before them. But it seemed to Tom, on glancing back, that his chum was staggering under the strain, so he called out:

"Here, what's the matter with my spelling you, Jack. It isn't fair to make you the burden-bearer, when I'm so willing to help. Give me the child, and let me carry her awhile. We'll make better time if you do."

There was more or less force in the suggestion advanced; so Jack thrust little Helene into Tom's waiting arms. She did not hesitate to clasp his neck, even as she had done Jack's, an action which endeared her to Tom, less prompt than Jack to answer to the appeal of childhood.

After this they seemed to make better time, and Jack also had a chance to recover his wind. There could be no doubt about their being pursued, for they could hear loud shouts bursting forth every half minute.

Presumably General von Berthold had by this time realized that his plan with regard to realizing a fortune some day through little Helene and the rich iron deposits on the property that would come to her, were in danger of going astray. Doubtless, also, he had offered an incentive to the soldiers in the shape of a money bonus, in case they recovered the child. Jack imagined he could hear the harsh voice of the commander raised above the tumult from time to time, which would indicate that he himself led the pursuit.

But here at last they were at the place where the smaller road left the main one, and entered the country burial grounds.

How fortunate that they had made all their arrangements beforehand! What if the mending of the leaking reservoir had been left until their return with Helene! Small chance they would have in that case of effecting their escape with the aroused Hun soldiers scouring the country in search of them.

Just then another thing came to pass that caused Jack's heart to feel as though a cold hand had been pressed down on it. From above came a familiar sound, especially to the ear of an aviator. It was the unmistakable buzz of an airplane motor. The sound was growing constantly louder, as though the machine were heading directly toward the chateau.

Of course it was next to impossible for it to be an allied plane; and so Jack must conclude that it bore some courier sent from Hindenburg's headquarters, wherever they might be, with a message of vast importance meant for the general commanding the sector opposing the American advance. Tom and Jack exchanged looks. It seemed as though they were now between the upper and the nether millstones. If they lingered where they were the soldiers were almost certain to come upon them; and should they choose to start their motor and make a successful start into the upper air currents the hostile plane would be ready to challenge them to deadly combat.

But Tom was already beginning to fasten little Helene in a seat alongside his own position. From this Jack understood that his chum's mind was made up, and that half a dozen waiting planes might not daunt him. They would have to take chances one way or another; and by going aloft they might at least be in a position to hold their own.

Jack hoped with all his heart they could get away without an upset. The ground was far from being all that might be wished; but then he had known even worse in his experience, and had never yet come a cropper. Besides, Tom would be at the helm, and that stood for a great deal. Jack hastened to get aboard.

None too soon did the pilot get his machine to going. The Huns were already howling close by, and must have turned in at the cemetery entrance as though suspecting the truth.

With a whirr and a clatter the plane was off. Guns had commenced to bark and red splashes of fire to stab the opaque mist that had now fallen on the lower ground with the deepening night. Jack felt like laughing at all these vain efforts to stop their departure.

Bumping along, Tom increased the speed, with Jack waiting in more or less suspense to ascertain what the outcome would be. Ahead of them rose the barrier of trees. If they struck that all was lost. But Tom was on the alert, and just in good time he changed his lifting lever that caused the nose of the plane to incline upward.

With a rush and a roar they cleared the treetops, though there did not seem to be a yard to spare. That danger past, Jack felt that they were better able to cope with the next peril. Down below the disappointed general continued to shout and the soldiers to shoot, but one was just as harmless as the other.

"He's coming for us, Tom! That Boche pilot!" shouted Jack. "Swing around so as to give me a chance to pepper him good and hard!"

Tom did so, and Jack speedily found an opportunity to handle his machine-gun, which he did with all his old-time vigor.

There was a feeble response from the Hun, who, however, seemed hardly to understand what it was all about, or just why he should be chasing after an unknown plane that had come from the region of Von Berthold's headquarters.

Two minutes passed, and they were no longer followed by the Hun machine. Jack never knew whether he had done any damage or not, though convinced that he had seldom made better use of his gun. It was enough for the air service boys to realize that the field was clear ahead, and with reasonable luck they ought to be able to make their goal without further mishap.

Some little time later there was a bit of a sensation created among the American aviators when a big bombing plane that had been listed as "missing and supposed to be lost" came settling down like a huge bat.

Harry Leroy was the first to rush alongside to learn if his two chums were safe and sound. When he saw Tom unstrapping a little girl, Harry believed, on the spur of the moment, it must be Jeanne Anstey.

And it can be easily believed that both Tom and Jack felt they had had the most energetic night in all their experience, one that would not soon be forgotten; while Helene, clasped in Jack's sheltering arms, contented herself with a repetition of just one word—"Jeanne."

XXV. PEACE IN SIGHT—CONCLUSION

It seemed as though there was to be little sleep for either of the air service boys on that remarkable night. Helene must be given into the charge of some one who could look after her temporarily; and Tom understood just whom Jack had in mind when he followed the other to the quarter where the Y. M. C. A. shelter stood.

They managed to communicate with Bessie after a bit, and then she came out to them. Great was her astonishment upon learning where they had been, and that this exact counterpart of little Jeanne, whom she had seen once when directed by Nellie to the house further back of the lines, was her twin sister, Helene.

Of course she and her mother could manage to take the child in. Their quarters were extremely crowded, and there was an absence of many of the comforts of life, but those warm-hearted women and girls who worked for the happiness of the boys in khaki would find some way to crowd a little closer for once. Even if Bessie herself had to sit up the rest of the night Helene should have a cot to lie upon.

"We'll see you in the morning, and tell you all about it," Jack said, anxious not to detain the tired worker longer than necessary.

"And as I'm going over to the hospital," Tom remarked, with somewhat studied carelessness, "I'll be only too glad to see Helene safely there. I suppose you'll want Nellie to start her along the same road for Paris that Jeanne took."

"We'll both go," said Jack, with the air of a general, at least. "And if Bessie can get off for a couple of hours, she might accompany us."

When morning came the boys found it easy to get permission to take a half-day off. They had been doing great work recently, and deserved this small favor. Besides, the commander to whom the request was made found himself greatly interested in the brief account Tom gave of the strange happenings that had been the portion of the air service boys after they discovered their petrol was exhausted, and realized the necessity for landing in order to procure a new supply in order to get home.

There was no reprimand coming to the boys for having attempted the rescue of Jeanne's twin sister. On the contrary the officer complimented Sergeants Raymond and Parmly on their exceedingly clever method of making the Boche supply them with the lacking fuel necessary to their safe home-coming.

Great was the astonishment of Nellie when they walked in on her. She stared at Helene for half a minute before something of the truth dawned upon her mind; and then it was the smiling faces of the other three that betrayed the fact.

"And so you've been at it again, have you, Jack?" she asked.

"Tom and I found a chance to drop in on Jeanne's wicked old uncle when in desperate need of petrol," he hastened to explain. "We happened to alight far back of the Hun lines, and discovered that we were close to the chateau where he has his headquarters. And so, to kill two birds with one stone, we concluded to take Helene along with us. Here she is."

"Not a very comprehensive story, it must be confessed," laughed Nellie. But then she knew she could coax all the details from Tom at various times in the future. So she just bent down and opened her arms.

"Come here, Helene, and love me," she told the little girl. "I've held your sister Jeanne in my arms, and I want to hug you too, my dear."

"Go to it, Helene," urged Tom, looking as though he thought the child a very fortunate youngster.

As Nellie had a very charming way about her, and Helene was gifted, as many children are, with a faculty for discerning a heart filled with true affection, they immediately became fast friends. It did Jack good to see the child so happy, with only one cloud to cause an occasional sigh, and that the memory of her mother's recent death.

But Jack and Tom both meant to see that the orphans were taken care of, and their interests safeguarded. In case the war soon came to an end he was determined that the scheming uncle, General von Berthold, should not profit as much as a single franc in connection with those hills in Lorraine, where the undeveloped iron deposits lay awaiting the magical touch of modern mining methods to bring a fortune to the Anstey children.

The air service boys and the two girls were having a very happy visit when who should come down upon them but Harry, also off on leave for the half-day, and naturally desirous of seeing his sister. So they had a really delightful time of it, and the three young air pilots found it most difficult to break away when the last minute of their leave had expired.

It was two days later when the thrilling news sped along the whole line that at several places the Americans were through the Argonne, with the beaten enemy retiring sullenly to newly arranged defenses. The rejoicing was general, for no matter how furiously the enemy might try to hold them in check from that time on, the fighting Yankees knew they had the Germans on the run.

More days of fighting followed, with the advance being continually and visibly quickened. Sedan was in sight one afternoon, and beyond that lay Belgium, with Germany almost unprotected further on quite up to the fortresses along the Rhine.

Enthusiasm in the army was rife. The worst was over, and never again would those gallant sons of Uncle Sam have to attempt such a frightful task as the clearing up of the vast Argonne Forest had proved to be.

The complete destruction of that last German stronghold during the big bombing raid, seemed to have utterly discouraged the Huns. Their morale went lower as the days crept past; so that they no longer fought with anything of their former ferocity.

"In fact," Jack declared, "they are badly whipped, and have just found it out."

Never would the air service boys forget the day when the news came to hold their present position at Sedan, because an armistice that would undoubtedly mean the ending of the war had just been signed. It was hard to believe that the last shot had been fired, and that now must begin the mighty task piled on Germany's back of paying for all the mischief caused by her invading armies during those four years and more of fighting.

In the Yankee camps the soldiers went fairly wild over the glorious news, and already those so far removed from home began to picture their triumphant return, with the warm welcome that must await them.

They could not foresee at that hour what duties still awaited them when ordered forward to occupy the bridgehead at Coblenz on the Rhine, there to stay for weary months while the Allied Council at Versailles debated over the peace terms that Germany would have to accept.

There on the Rhine we must take our leave of Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly, as well as of Harry Leroy, satisfied that as they had on many an occasion proved their valor and skill as Uncle Sam's air pilots, they would continue to serve their country faithfully to the end, even through another war if necessary.

THE END

Air Service Boys Over the Atlantic

or

The Longest Flight On Record

Contents

I. Out For Business

II. The Rescue

III. A Bold Project

IV. The Rest Billet

V. The Air Raiders

VI. Striking a Blow For Liberty

VII. The Battle In the Air

VIII. Bombing the Bridge

IX. Convincing Proof

X. Groping For Light

XI. The Amazing Plan

XII. Gripped In Suspense

XIII. Off For the Channel

XIV. Ready For the Start

XV. The Long Flight Begun

XVI. The First Night Out

XVII. When the Submarine Struck

XVIII. The Cold Hand of Fear

XIX. A Desperate Chance

XX. On the Ice Floe

XXI. Attacked By a Polar Bear

XXII. When the Iceberg Rolled Over

XXIII. The End of the Flight

XXIV. Surprising Bridgeton

XXV. To See the War Through—Conclusion

I. OUT FOR BUSINESS

"Look! What does that mean, Tom?"

"It means that fellow wants to ruin the Yankee plane, and perhaps finish the flier who went down with it to the ground."

"Not if we can prevent it, I say. Take a nosedive, Tom, and leave it to me to manage the gun!"

"He isn't alone, Jack, for I saw a second skulker in the brush, I'm sure."

"We've got to drive those jackals away, no matter at what risk. Go to it, Tom, old scout!"

The big battle-plane, soaring fully two thousand feet above the earth, suddenly turned almost upside-down, so that its nose pointed at an angle close to forty-five degrees. Like a hawk plunging after its prey it sped through space, the two occupants held in their places by safety belts.

As they thus rushed downward the earth seemed as if rising to meet them. Just at the right second Tom Raymond, by a skillful flirt of his hand, brought the Yankee fighting aircraft back to an even keel, with a beautiful gliding movement.

Immediately the steady throb of the reliable motor took up its refrain, while the buzz of the spinning propellers announced that the plane was once more being shot through space by artificial means.

The two occupants were Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly, firm friends and chums who had been like David and Jonathan in their long association. It was Tom who acted as pilot on the present occasion, while Jack took the equally important position of observer and gunner.

Both were young Americans with a natural gift in the line of aviation. They had won their spurs while serving under French leadership as members of the famous Lafayette Escadrille. The adventures they encountered at that time are related in the first book of this series, entitled: "Air Service Boys Flying For France."

After America entered the war, like all other adventurous young Yankee fliers, the two Air Service Boys offered their services to their own country and joined one of the new squadrons then being formed.

Here the two youths won fresh laurels, and both were well on the way to be recognized "aces" by the time Pershing's army succeeded in fighting its way through the nests of machine-gun traps that infested the great Argonne Forest.

It was in the autumn of the victory year, 1918, and the German armies were being pushed back all along the line from Switzerland to the sea. Under the skillful direction of Marshal Foch, the Allies had been dealing telling and rapid blows, now here, now there.

To-day it was the British that struck; the day afterward the French advanced their front; and next came the turn of the Americans under Pershing. Everywhere the discouraged and almost desperate Huns were being forced in retreat, continually drawing closer to the border.

Already the sanguine young soldiers from overseas were talking of spending the winter on the Rhine. Some even went so far as to predict that their next Christmas dinner would be eaten in Berlin. It was no idle boast, for they believed it might be so, because victory was in the very air.

So great was the distress of the Hun forces that it was believed Marshal Foch had laid a vast trap and was using the fresh and enthusiastic Yankees to drive a dividing wedge between Ludendorff's two armies, when a colossal surrender must inevitably follow.

The whole world now knows that this complete break-up of the Teutons was avoided solely by their demand for an armistice, with an agreement on terms that were virtually a surrender—absolute in connection with their navy.

Tom and Jack had displayed considerable ability in carrying out their work, and could no longer be regarded as novices. Each of them had for some time been anticipating promotion, and hoped to return home with the rank of lieutenant at least.

They had been entrusted with a number of especially dangerous missions, and had met with considerable success in putting these through. Like most other ambitious young fliers, they hoped soon to merit the title of "ace," when they could point to at least six proven victories over rival pilots, with that number of planes sent down in combat.

On the present occasion they had sallied out "looking for trouble," as Jack put it; which, in so many words, meant daring any Hun flier to meet them and engage in a duel among the clouds.

Other planes they could see cruising toward the northwest, and also flying in an easterly direction; but as a rule these bore signs of being Allies' machines, and in all probability had Yankee pilots manning them.

Apparently the Hun airmen were otherwise employed. They seemed to prefer venturing out after nightfall, gathering in force, and often taking a strange satisfaction in bombing some Red Cross hospital, where frequently their own wounded were being treated alongside the American doughboys.

During the weeks that the Americans were battling in the great Argonne Forest the two Air Service Boys had contributed to the best of their ability to each daily drive. Again and again had they taken part in such dangerous work as fell to the portion of the aviators. Their activities at that time are set down in the fifth volume of this series, entitled: "Air Service Boys Flying For Victory."

Frequently they had found themselves in serious trouble, and their escapes were both numerous and thrilling. Through it all they had been highly favored, since neither of them had thus far met with a serious accident. Numbers of their comrades had been registered as "missing," or were known to have been shot down and lost.

It was no unusual thing a few days after a flier had gone out and failed to return at evening, for a Hun pilot to sail over and drop a note telling that he had fallen in combat, and was buried at a certain place with his grave so marked that it could be easily found.

There seemed to be a vein of old-time chivalry among the German airmen even up to the very last, such as had not marked any other branch of their fighting forces, certainly not the navy. And the Americans made it a point to return this courtesy whenever an opportunity arose.

Tom was proud of his ability to execute that difficult feat known as a "nose-dive." More than once it had extricated him from a "pocket" into which he found himself placed by circumstances, with three or more enemy planes circling around and bombarding him from their active guns.

At such times the only hope of the attacked pilot lay in his ability to drop down as if his machine had received a fatal blow and when once far below the danger point again to recover an even keel.

Jack never doubted what the result would be, having the utmost confidence in his comrade. The wind rushed past his ears as they pitched downward; and just when objects on the ground loomed up suggestively there was the expected sudden shift of the lever, a consequent change in the pointing of the plane's nose, and then they found themselves on the new level, with the motor again humming merrily.

Jack was on the alert and quickly discovered the object that just then enlisted their whole attention. As he had suspected when using the glasses from the higher level, it was a Yankee bomber that lay partly hidden among the bushes where it had fallen. He could easily see the Indian head marking the broken wing.

The pilot was sitting near by as though unable to make a run for it, although Jack imagined he must suspect the approach of danger, for he gripped something that glinted in the sunlight in his right hand. It was, of course, an automatic pistol.

Looking hastily around Jack glimpsed the creeping figures of the two Germans who, having seen the fall of the Yankee plane, must have come out from some place of concealment and were bent on finishing the pilot, or at least taking him prisoner. They had almost reached a point where it would have been possible for them to open fire on the wounded American.

Jack looked in vain for any second figure near the fallen plane. If the pilot had had an observer with him, which was most likely, considering the fact that he had been using a bombing machine, the latter must have been dispatched for relief some time before.

"There they are, Tom!" burst from the one who crouched close to the machine gun, and pointing as he spoke. "Swoop down and let me give them a volley!"

The Huns evidently realized what was coming, and feared that their intended victim might after all escape their hands. Even as Jack spoke there came a shot from below, and a bullet went screaming past close to the ears of the Air Service Boys. It was followed by a second and a third in quick succession.

What the marksmen hoped to do was either to kill the pilot or else to strike some vulnerable part of the engine, thus disabling it and wrecking the plane. Those were chances which had to be taken continually; but as a rule the rapidity of flight rendered them almost negligible.

Jack waited no longer. The two men were about to fling themselves behind friendly trees, and but a small chance remained that he might catch them before they were able to shield themselves by these close-by trunks.

Jack, in his most energetic fashion, commenced to spray the vicinity with a shower of leaden missiles. The chatter of the machine gun drowned any cries from the two men below. The Yankee plane swooped past the spot where the injured pilot still sat at bay, ready to sell his life dearly if the worst came.

II. THE RESCUE

The rat-tat-tat of gunfire suddenly ceased. Jack could no longer cover the spot where the two Huns were hiding behind the tree-trunks, and consequently it would be a sheer waste of ammunition to continue firing.

But already Tom had commenced to circle, and soon they would be swooping down upon the scene from another direction. Jack kept on the alert, so as to note quickly any possible movement of the enemy.

Again he poured a hot fire on the place where he knew the Germans were cowering, tearing up the ground with a storm of bullets as though it had been freshly harrowed. But the sturdy trees baffled him once more.

"Nothing doing, Tom!" he called out, vexed. "We've got to drop down and go it on foot if we want to save that pilot!"

"I see a good landing place!" announced the other almost instantly.

"Great luck! get busy then!"

The ground chanced to be unusually smooth, and the plane, after bumping along for a short distance, came to a stand. Meanwhile, both young fliers had succeeded in releasing themselves from their safety belts.

Together they jumped to the ground and started on a run toward the spot where those crouching figures had last been seen. Of course, the Huns must already know of their landing and would be ready to defend themselves, if not to attack; but, nothing daunted by this possibility, the pair pushed ahead through bushes and past trees.

"Better separate, and attack 'em from two different angles, hadn't we, Tom?" panted Jack presently, as a shot was heard and something clipped a twig from a bush within a foot of his hand.

"Take the left, and I'll look after the right!" snapped out Tom.

Both were armed with automatic pistols, for airmen can never tell when their lives may depend upon their ability to defend themselves, and so seldom make a flight without some such weapon in their possession.

"They're on the run!" cried Jack, in a tone of disgust; for he had really hoped to have a further brush with the skulking enemy.

He sent several shots in their direction whenever he caught glimpses of the bounding figures, but without much hope of striking either of them. Still, they had undoubtedly accomplished the business in hand, which was to save the Yankee pilot.

"He's over this way, Jack," observed Tom, moving to the right still further, after being joined by his comrade. "I can see the opening where he must have struck. The Hun flier didn't bother to follow him down and find out if he'd made a count. He may have been here for some time."

"I see him now," continued Jack eagerly. "And it strikes me there's something familiar about his looks. Yes, we've met that pilot before, Tom. It's Lieutenant Colin Beverly, one of the cleverest Yankee aces of the newer squad."

The aviator had already discovered the Air Service Boys' presence. Doubtless all that had occurred had been noted by him as he sat, waiting for anything that might happen; and the swoop of the American plane, as well as Jack's firing, had of course told him help was near.

"He's waving his hand to us," continued Jack, answering in kind.

"Keep your gun ready for business," warned the other, inclined to be more cautious. "There may be other Huns prowling around, because we're not far from their lines, you understand."

A minute afterwards they reached the pilot of the wrecked bomber.

"Hello, fellows!" was his familiar greeting, as he thrust a hand out toward them. "Glad to see you, all right. They were after me, just as I suspected. My observer was wounded in the arm, but went for help. As for me, save for a few scratches, I made the fall in great luck. But I'm still crippled from that other accident. Just got out of hospital a week ago. They tried to keep me from going up, but I'd have died only for the permission."

Colin Beverly they knew to be one of the liveliest fliers then serving in the American ranks. He had gained a name for daring second to none. Early in his service he had won a reputation, and was already a double ace; which meant that he was officially credited with at least twelve victories over enemy fliers.

Tom and Jack had met him a number of times previously, and there had always been a strong attraction between the three. Lieutenant Beverly was one of fortune's favorites in so far as worldly riches went, since he had a million at least to his credit, it was said.

He had enlisted as soon as the United States entered the war, and had chosen aviation as his branch of the service, since it offered his venture-venturesome, almost reckless, spirit a chance for action. He had had numerous escapes so narrow that his friends began to believe some magical charm must protect him.

As he had mentioned when speaking to them on their arrival, his closest call had sent him to the hospital with a fractured bone in his left leg; and even when discharged as cured he really should not have returned to the harness; only, those in authority found it difficult to keep such an energetic soul in check.

"Those chaps will come back with more of their kind, I reckon," Tom remarked. "They've made up their minds to get you, Lieutenant, and when a Hun is bent on a thing he keeps on trying. We can take you along with us."

"I hate to desert the bus," complained the other, giving his wrecked plane a wry look. "But then what's the use of sticking it out? Chances are we'll be through the mess before they ever get it in fighting trim again. Yes, I'll go along, boys, if you'll lend me a shoulder. Gave that game leg another little knock in falling; but then, I might have broken my neck, so I'm thankful."

"The Beverly luck again!" chuckled Jack, at which the intrepid flier nodded with kindling eyes.

"Getting to believe I can carry anything through I care to tackle, for a fact, fellows," he remarked, with the same amazing confidence that had taken him along so many times in a whirlwind of success.

They ranged alongside, and he leaned on Tom's arm as he limped off, giving no further heed to the mass of damaged engine, crumpled wood, bent steel guys, and torn canvas that had once been a powerful bombing plane.

Jack kept in readiness to meet any attack that might spring up, though they had reason to believe the Huns had temporarily withdrawn from the field of action.

"Your friend Harry Leroy dropped in to see me while I was laid up, Raymond," remarked the lieutenant, with a broad grin, as he saw how his words caused the color to flash into the bronzed cheeks of the other.

"Haven't seen Harry for some time," Tom replied, his eyes twinkling with pleasure; "but I heard of you through his sister. Nellie said you were the hardest patient she'd ever tackled, because you kept fretting to get out and be at work again."

"Yes, Miss Leroy was my nurse for a week, and I think I improved more under her care than at any other time. She's a fine girl, Raymond."

"Sure thing, Lieutenant. I ought to know," came the unabashed answer. "I've known Nellie for some time, and that was always my opinion. We're good friends all right."

"H'm! I guess you must be," chuckled the other. "I wish you could have seen her look when I mentioned that I knew you well, and liked you in the bargain. I kept talking Tom Raymond a full streak just to watch the blushes play over her face and the light shine in her eyes. Raymond, you're a lucky dog."

"Here's our plane, and we'll soon be able to get going with such a smooth bit of ground ahead," Tom hastened to remark, though it was easy to see that what the other said had thrilled him.

"All aboard!" sang out Jack, after a last quick look around. "No Huns in sight, as far as I can see."

The ascent was easily made, for, as Tom had said, they were favored with an unusually level stretch of ground beyond, over which the plane rolled decently until the pilot switched his lever and they started to soar. From some place close by an unseen enemy commenced to fire again, but without success.

Once fully on their way, the danger faded out of sight. Again they were spinning through space, with the earth fading below them.

"Back home, Tom?" called out Jack, and the pilot nodded an affirmative.

Swiftly they sped, and presently were dropping back to earth at the spot whence their outgoing flight had started. Here there were evidences of bustle, with planes coming and going all the while. Couriers could be seen on horses or motorcycles speeding away with important news to be sent from the nearest field telephone station in touch with division headquarters.

The landing was made without incident, though curious glances were cast in their direction. Many knew that Tom and his chum had made their ascent without a third passenger, and the presence of Lieutenant Beverly announced that some sort of tragedy of the air had occurred.

A number of other pilots swooped down upon them to learn the particulars. As usual they were inclined to be jocular, and greeted the limping Beverly with a volley of questions, as well as remarks concerning that "luck" of which he had talked.

"They can't get you, no matter how they try, Beverly," one called out.

"Another machine to the scrap-heap!" laughingly observed the most celebrated of Yankee aces, slapping Colin on the shoulder. "Makes an even dozen for you I understand. Planes may come and planes may go but you go on forever. Well, long may you wave, old chap! Here's wishing you luck. So the boys picked you up, did they? Nice work, all right."

"Just in time, too," confessed Beverly, "because there were some Huns on the way to finish me that had to be chased off."

Tom had been noticing something which he thought a bit strange. It was a way Lieutenant Beverly had of looking at him curiously, as if deciding something in his mind which had suddenly gripped him.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Lieutenant?" he finally asked, when they had left the bevy of pilots and mechanics behind and were heading toward their quarters; for Tom wished to see the other comfortable before he and Jack ascended once more.

"I don't believe there is—at present," the other slowly replied. "But this accidental meeting may develop into something worth while; that is, if you chaps would care to join me in a sensational flight."

At hearing these words Jack began to show a sudden interest.

"If you know anything about us, Lieutenant!" he exclaimed eagerly, "you ought to understand that we've always been willing to tackle any job coming our way."

"This one," continued the other gravely, "promises to be an unusually dangerous enterprise that if successful, will be sure to win the crew of the big bombing plane tremendous honors and perhaps rapid advancement."

"You're only exciting us more and more by saying that," said Tom. "Suppose you explain what it is, and then we could decide whether we'd want to join you or not."

"My sentiments exactly," added Jack.

Lieutenant Beverly looked from one face to the other. He seemed to be mentally weighing the chances of his ever being able to run across two more promising candidates for the honor of sharing his secret than the pair of ambitious lads then in touch with him. As though his decision was taken he suddenly exclaimed:

"It's a go, then! I'll let you into my little secret, which so far hasn't been shared by a single living man. Then later on you can decide if you care to accept the risk for the sake of the glory success would bring, as well as striking a blow for the flag we all love!"

III. A BOLD PROJECT

"Pitch in, please!" urged the impatient Jack Parmly.

"Listen, then, boys," commenced the other earnestly. "You doubtless know that I've got more money than is good for any single man to handle? Well, I've squandered a small bunch of it in having a wonderful plane made and sent abroad. Of course it's intended to be handed over to the Government in due course of time, but with the proviso that they allow me to engineer the first long flight in it."

"That sounds interesting, Lieutenant," admitted Jack, apparently considerably impressed.

"Tell us some more about it, please," urged the practical Tom.

"It's possibly by long odds the largest bombing plane that so far has ever been built, even beating those big Caproni machines of Italy that can carry a dozen in the crew. This Martin bomber can be run by three hands, although several more might be used if the right kind were found. Its possibilities in the way of distance and continued flight can hardly be estimated, since all depends on the cargo carried. The less crew, the more petrol and bombs to make up the load."

"Yes, we get that, Lieutenant," said Jack, as the other paused briefly, possibly to get his breath, and then again because he wished the information to sink slowly into their minds.

"With this monster biplane I assure you it will be an easy matter to fly all the way to Berlin, bomb the city so as to terrify the inhabitants even as they tried to do to Londoners, turn around, and return here without touching ground once; yes, and if necessary, repeating the trip."

Jack showed intense excitement, while Tom too was deeply interested.

"We knew that thing would soon arrive," the latter said; "and they say the Germans are getting cold feet already with the prospect before them. But it's come a little sooner than I, for one, expected. What's your big scheme, Lieutenant?"

"Berlin or bust?" chanced Jack explosively.

"You've hit the right nail on the head, Parmly," admitted the other, with a nod of appreciation. "I mean to show that it can be done. Just as soon as I can get that big bomber here, and the permission to take on the job, well start some fine night for Berlin and give Heine the jolt of his life."

Jack thrust out his hand impulsively.

"You can count for one on my going, Lieutenant; that is, provided I get permission from the boss!" he announced promptly.

"I'm inclined to say the same," Tom added quietly, though his face displayed an eagerness he did not otherwise betray.

With that Lieutenant Beverly squeezed a hand of each.

"I mean to start things going shortly," he told them. "And you'll surely hear from me, for I must keep track of you boys."

"Where is the big Martin bomber now, did you say?" asked Jack.

"I didn't mention the fact, but it lies hidden in a special hangar on the French coast, not a great distance from Dunkirk," came the answer. "I have a special guard watching it, and my mechanics keep everything ready for any sudden call. Right now she's tuned up to top-notch pitch, and a full supply of gas is kept on hand all the time, as well as everything needed in the way of supplies. That's where money talks."

Jack looked his admiration, and then burst out with:

"You're sure a dandy, Lieutenant Beverly, and if ever you undertake that wonderful trip to Berlin and back I only hope I have the great good luck to be aboard."

"Consider it settled then," he was told. "And now that I've found my comrades for the venture I can go about further details, and start getting the consent of Headquarters to the enterprise. One of these nights Berlin is going to get a shock that may help bring the war to a speedy close."

"Here's our dugout," said Tom. "We're going back to work again after I've bandaged Jack's finger, for he gave it an ugly scratch when handling the gun, he doesn't himself know just how. Can we do anything further for you right now, Lieutenant?"

"Thank you, nothing, Raymond. I shall get on nicely. I'll rest up a day or so while things are simmering connected with that big affair. Of course it's to be a great secret among the three of us; not another soul knows anything about my project or the giant bombing plane I had shipped over to France."

"That's understood, and we're as mum as a couple of clams," Jack told him; and so they separated, little dreaming at the moment what a remarkable series of circumstances were fated to arise that would bring them together for the carrying out of an enterprise greater than anything as yet recorded in the annals of aerial exploits.

Tom and Jack were back on the field before half an hour had elapsed, making a fresh start for the clouds, just as eager as ever to have some adventurous Hun airman accept their challenge and give them battle.

For a whole hour did they fly back and forth in the disputed territory between the two armies. Far beneath they could see by the aid of the powerful binoculars marching columns of soldiers, all heading toward the northwest. These they knew to be the German forces, making one of their regular daily retreats in fairly good order.

Behind them the Hun armies left innumerable nests of machine-gunners to dispute the advance of the Yankee battalions, and hold them in check, even at the price of utter annihilation. Many times the men selected for this sacrifice to the Fatherland held grimly on until they were completely wiped out by the sweep of the Americans.

Occasionally one of the Yankee pilots, provoked because none of the enemy dared to accept the gauge of battle he flung before them, would swoop down and try to make a target of these marching columns. Then for a brief period there would be exciting work, with the machine gun of the scurrying plane splashing its spray of bullets amidst the scurrying soldiers, and the daring pilot in return taking their volleys.

Perhaps, if the boldness of the Americans caused them to take too great chances, there might be one less plane return to its starting point that day; and the report would be brought in that the pilot had "met his fate in the discharge of his duty."

Wearied at length of the useless task, the Air Service Boys finally gave it up for that afternoon. Jack in particular showed signs of keen disappointment, for he always chafed under inaction.

"There was some talk of another raid for tonight, you remember, Tom," he said, when they once more alighted and gave the plane over into the charge of the hostlers; "and if it turns out that way I only hope we're detailed to go along to guard the bombers. It's growing worse and worse right along these days, when Fritz seems to have gotten cold feet and refuses to accept a dare."

"I see fellows reading letters," remarked Tom suddenly. "Let's hope there is something for us."

"It's been a long time since I heard from home," sighed Jack. "I certainly hope everything is going on well in old Virginia these days. There's Captain Peters waving something at us right now, Tom!"

"Letters, Jack, and a sheaf of them at that!"

"Come on, let's run!" urged the impatient one, suiting his actions to the words by starting off on a gallop.

Tom took it a little more slowly so that when he arrived and received his letters from the aviation instructor, who happened to be in the camp at the time, Jack was already deeply immersed in one which he had received.

It was late in the afternoon. The sun hung low in the west, looking fiery red, which promised a fair day on the morrow. Once he had his letters, however, Tom paid but scant attention to anything else.

His news from Virginia must have been pleasant, if one could judge from the smile that rested upon his wind and sun-tanned face as he read on. Again in memory he could see those loved ones in the old familiar haunts, going about their daily tasks, or enjoying themselves as usual. And whenever they sat under the well-remembered tree in the cool of the early fall evening, with the soft Virginia air fanning their cheeks, the red and golden hues of frost-touched leaves above them, he knew their talk was mostly of him, the absent one, most fondly loved.

Tom looked up. He thought he had heard a groan, or something very similar, break from the lips of his chum. It startled Tom so that when he saw how troubled Jack looked a spasm of alarm gripped his heart.

"Why, what is the matter with you?" he cried, leaning forward and laying a hand on the other's arm. "Have you had bad news from home?"

Jack nodded his head, and as he turned his eyes his chum saw there was a look of acute anxiety in them.

"No one dead, or sick, I hope, Jack?" continued the other apprehensively.

"No, at least that is spared me, Tom; they are all well. But just the same, it's a bad muddle. And the worst of it is I'm thousands of miles off, held up by army regulations, when I ought to get home for a short visit right away."

"See here, is it anything connected with that Burson property—has that matter come to a head at last?" demanded Tom, as a light dawned upon him.

"Nothing less," assented the other gloomily. "The issue has been suddenly forced, and may be settled any day. If I'm not there, according to the eccentric will of my uncle, Joshua Adams Kinkaid, that property will fall into the hands of my cousin, Randolph Carringford, who, as we both know, is just at present over here acting in a confidential capacity to some Government official."

"Yes, I've seen him," said Tom, frowning. "And to tell the honest truth his face didn't impress me strongly. In fact, I didn't like your cousin. What's the use? All Virginia knows that Randolph Carringford is a black sheep—that no decent man or woman will acknowledge him for a friend. Wonder what Joshua Kinkaid meant, anyhow, by ringing him in. But are the lands worth as much as it was believed, Jack?"

"I learn in this letter from our lawyer that the richest kind of coal veins have been located on the Burson property in West Virginia; and that they promise to be valued at possibly a million dollars. Think of what that would mean to the Parmly family! For we are far from being rich. Father lost his grip on business you know, Tom, when he volunteered, and went into the Spanish war, and when he died did not leave very much."

"Do you suppose your cousin knows anything about this new development?" continued Tom sympathetically.

"He is too greedy not to have looked after every possible chance," came Jack's despondent reply. "And now that this thing's come up I can begin to understand why he kept smiling in that way all the time he chatted with me a week ago when we chanced to meet. I think he had had a tip even then that this thing was coming off, and was laying his plans. Though how he could known, I can't imagine."

"Then you suspect he may already be on his way across, and will arrive before you can get there to put in your claim?" asked Tom.

"Even allowing that he had no news until this mail got in, Tom, he'd get off a whole lot easier that I'll ever be able to, and so could catch a boat, while I kept untwisting the army red tape. It's a bad job all around, I'm afraid, and bound to make me feel blue."

"There's only one thing for you to do, Jack." remarked the energetic chum promptly, and his confidence gave the other considerable satisfaction.

"What is that?"

"Apply for leave at once. And include me at the same time, because I'll go with you, of course, Jack. We'll try to get back in time to join in the grand march to the Rhine. Promise me to do this before we sleep to-night!"

"I will, Tom, and here's my hand on it!"

IV. THE REST BILLET

"Here's a pretty kettle of fish, Jack!" Tom Raymond remarked several hours later, as he came into the dingy dugout where his chum was sitting.

A number of other pilots and observers occupied the same quarters, which had once been the refuge of German officers. Wretched though these quarters were, they at least afforded security from the bursting shells that were being sent across now and then by the enemy, from their positions on the hills to the northwest.

Jack had been paying small heed to the merriment of his mates, who, like most young men gathered together in a group, had been carrying on high. Sitting there with his head resting on his hand he had allowed himself to become buried in deep thought. A strained worried look had taken possession of his usually sunny face.

"What's the matter now, Tom?" he asked, with a deep sigh, as though he had been rudely brought back to a realization of the fact that he was still in France, where the battle raged, and far removed from those peaceful Virginia scenes he had been picturing.

"We're ordered out with that raiding party to-night," Tom continued, lowering his voice to a whisper, since it was supposed to be a military secret, and not to be openly discussed.

"Oh! Well, what does it matter?" asked Jack, beginning to show animation. "We've put in our applications for leave, but the chances are they'll not be acted upon immediately, although we asked for speed. And nothing would please me more than to see action while I'm waiting. I'm afraid I'd go clean daffy unless I could forget my troubles in some way."

"Glad to hear you say that, Jack, because I'm feeling particularly keen myself to be one of that bunch to-night"

"When do we start?" demanded the other tersely.

"Not until two in the morning," came the low reply. "All that's been figured out with regard to the moon you know."

Jack took a quick glance around. So far as he could see, no one was paying the least attention to him and his comrade. One of the air pilots was trying to sing a song, being in jovial mood after receiving a letter that he admitted was from his "girl in the States" and the others manifested a desire to join in the chorus, though none of them dared let their voices out, since it was against the rules.

"Did you learn anything about the job we've got on hand, Tom?"

"Yes, that's what I did; though I believe it was not generally told to all who are to be in the party," came the cautious reply. "Of course just before the flight they'll be given full particulars, when orders are issued to the pilots and observers. It's a bridge this time, Jack!"

"That one spanning the river about twenty miles back of the German lines, do you mean?"

"Yes, it's the most important bridge within fifty miles. Over it day and night the retreating Boche armies are passing. There's hardly a minute that guns and regiments may not be seen passing across at that point."

"Yes," observed Jack, "and a number of times some of our airmen have tried to bomb it in the daytime; but Fritz keeps such a vigilant watch we never could succeed in getting close enough to do any material damage. And so the High Command has decided that bridge must be knocked to flinders!"

"We're going out to make the attempt, anyhow," resumed Tom, nodding. "Four big bombing machines in the bunch, guarded by eight battleplanes; and we've the good fortune to be chosen as the crew of one. I consider we're lucky, Jack."

"That's right, Tom. Though I don't feel quite as keen for it as I would have been had I not received that letter from our lawyer, asking me to hurry back home if I could possibly make it. Still, I'll be in for a bad night, anyhow, and might just as well be working."

"Are you worrying about your cousin?" demanded Tom suspiciously.

"To tell you the truth I am, more or less," Jack confessed. "I know him as a man utterly without principle. When he knows that it is a race between us to see which one can get to America first, so as to win the prize my foolish uncle left in such a haphazard way, there's absolutely nothing, I honestly believe, that Randolph wouldn't attempt in order to keep me from getting there in advance of him."

"Well, try to forget all that just now," said Tom. "I've a nice little surprise for you, Jack. I suppose you know they've got a sort of 'Y' hut running back here a bit?"

"Heard some of the fellows talking about it, but, somehow, didn't seem to take much stock in the news. Fact is, I've temporarily lost my taste for those doughnuts and the girls who give their time to jollying up our fellows, as well as attending to their many wants in the line of letter writing and such things."

"Perhaps," insinuated Tom, with a mild grin, "a doughnut mightn't go so badly now if the girl who offered it happened to answer to the name of Bessie?"

At that Jack suddenly began to show more interest. A gleam came into his saddened eyes and a faint smile to his face.

"That's an altogether different thing, Tom!" he exclaimed. "Do you really mean that Bessie and Mrs. Gleason are so close as all that?"

"If you care to walk out with me you can be talking to them inside of fifteen minutes," came the ready answer. "And while about it, I might as well tell you that Nellie is there too. Seems that she's attached to a field hospital staff that's keeping us close company, and, meeting the Gleasons, came over for the evening. She's been overworked lately, and needs some rest. I promised to come back for a short while, and fetch you along."

"Did—er, Bessie ask you to look me up?" asked Jack confusedly.

"To be sure! Twice at least. And I had to promise solemnly I'd do it even if I had to take you by the collar and hustle you there. But our time is limited, and we'd better be on our way, Jack."

The other showed an astonishing return to his old form. Apparently the mere fact that he was about to see the Gleasons again caused him to forget, temporarily at least, all about his fresh troubles. They were soon hurrying along, now and then dropping flat as some shell shrieked overhead or burst with a crash not far away.

Their relations with Mrs. Gleason and Bessie were very remarkable, and of a character to bind them close together in friendship. In fact, as has been described at length in one of the earlier books of this series, Tom and Jack had been mainly instrumental in releasing the mother and young daughter from a chateau where they were being held prisoner by an unscrupulous and plotting relative, with designs on their fortune.

The so-called "hut" of the Y.M.C.A. workers was really only another dilapidated and abandoned German dugout, which had been hurriedly arranged as a sort of makeshift headquarters, where the doughboys who could get leave might gather and find such amusement as the conditions afforded.

There were Salvation Army lassies present too, with their pies and doughnuts that made the boys feel closer to home than almost anything else, and even a sprinkling of Red Cross nurses from the field hospital who had been given a brief leave for recuperation.

Adjoining this particular rest billet was another of similar character run by the K. of C., which was also well patronized; indeed there seemed to be a friendly rivalry between the organizations to discover which could spread the most sunshine and cheer abroad.

Jack immediately was pounced upon by a pretty, young girl whose face was either very sunburned or covered with blushes. This was of course the Bessie mentioned by Tom. Others who watched professed a bit of envy because Jack received all her attention after he appeared.

Nellie Leroy, the Red Cross nurse, looked very sweet in her regulation hospital uniform, with the insignia of her calling on her sleeve. If her face bore a sad expression it was no more than must be expected of one seeing so much suffering at close quarters as came to the share of all the women and girls who devoted their very lives to such a calling. In Tom's eyes she was the prettiest girl in all France. It could also be seen that Nellie was very fond of the stalwart young air pilot, from the way in which her eyes rested on his figure whenever he chanced to be absent from her side during the next hour; which to tell the truth was not often.

Of course nothing was said about the night's dangerous work that lay ahead for the two chums. But Bessie noticed that Jack occasionally looked grave, and questioned him concerning it. In answer he took her into his confidence to a certain extent concerning his reason for wanting to be in Virginia.

The time for separating came all too soon. Tom was very particular about this, being a firm believer in duty before pleasure.

"Look us up often if you get the chance," said Mrs. Gleason, who had been actively at work all the evening carrying out her customary duties, and proving indeed a "good angel" to scores of the young soldiers, who looked upon her as they might on their own mothers.

"You can depend on it we will," said Tom, giving Nellie a warm look that caused her eyes to drop and a wave of color to come into her cheeks.

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away, if I can get across," Jack told Bessie, as he was squeezing her little hand at separating. "But then you never know what's going to happen these days. All sorts of things are possible. If I do start across the big pond you'll hear of it, Bessie."

Jack looked back and waved his hand to the little group standing in the door of the dugout. He seemed much more cheerful than earlier in the evening, Tom thought; and as that had been one of his motives in getting the other across from the aviation camp he felt satisfied.

"And now for business," he remarked as they made their way along, with a frequent bursting shell giving them light to see any gap in the road into which they might otherwise have stumbled.

Fritz was unusually active on this particular night, for some reason or other, for he kept up that hammering hour after hour. It might be the German High Command suspected that the Americans were ready to make a more stupendous push than had as yet been undertaken, with the idea of capturing a whole division, or possibly two, before they could get away; and this bombardment was continued in hopes of discouraging them.

The two Air Service Boys did not bother themselves about this, being content to leave all such matters to those in command. They had their orders and expected to obey them to the letter, which was quite enough for them.

Once more in their dugout, Tom and his comrade crawled into their limited sleeping quarters simply to rest, neither of them meaning to try to forget themselves in slumber.

When the time came for action they were soon crawling out of the hole in the ground. As pilots came and went unnoticed, each intent on his individual work, their departure caused not the faintest ripple. In fact, there were two other airmen who also came out and joined them when making for the place of the temporary canvas hangars, they, too, having had secret orders concerning this same night raid.

Arriving on the open field, they found a busy scene awaiting them. Here were mechanics by the score getting planes ready for ascension. The hum of motors and the buzz of propellers being tuned up could be heard in many quarters.

Those sounds always thrilled the hearts of the two boys; it seemed to challenge them to renewed efforts to accomplish great things in their chosen profession. When, however, they reached their own hangar and found a knot of mechanics working furiously, Tom's suspicions instantly arose.

"What's wrong here?" he asked the man who was in charge of the gang.

"There's been some sort of ugly business going on, I'm afraid," came the reply; "for we're replacing several wire stays that look as if they'd been partly eaten by a corrosive acid. Smacks of rank treachery, Sergeant."

V. THE AIR RAIDERS

Upon hearing the words uttered by the mechanic who handled the men working at their battleplane, Tom and his chum exchanged meaning looks.

"Can you make it perfectly safe again before half an hour passes?" asked the former anxiously.

"Surely," came the confident reply. "I know what's in the wind, and you'll be fit for any sort of flight when another fifteen minutes has gone by. We're on the last stay now, and I've carefully examined the motor and every other thing about the plane. Don't fear to risk your lives on my report. I'd go up myself willingly if I had the chance."

"All right, Sessions, we're willing to take your word for it," Tom assured him, and then drew his comrade aside.

Jack on his part was eager for a little talk between themselves. That staggering fact had appalled, as well as angered, him. Why should their particular plane have been selected for such treacherous work, among all the scores connected with the air service in that sector of the fighting front?

"What do you make of this thing, Tom?" he immediately demanded.

"It's an ugly bit of business, I should say," came the guarded reply.

"You mean calculated to make every one feel timid about taking any extraordinary risk—is that it?" continued Jack.

"Yes, if the fact were generally circulated. But according to my mind they'll keep it quiet until after the armada gets off. No use alarming the others, though orders have gone out I presume to have every plane carefully examined. Still, that would only be ordinary caution; we never go up without doing such a thing."

"Tom, do you think there could be any possible connection between this work of a German spy, as it appears on the surface, and my news from Mr. Smedley, the lawyer?"

"It's possible—even probable, Jack. A whole lot depends on whether we learn of any other plane having been meddled with. One thing sure, it'll spur them to greater vigilance about watching things here. This isn't the first time there's been a suspicion of rank treachery. Planes have been known to be meddled with before now."

"I wouldn't put it past him!" muttered Jack sullenly.

"Meaning your cousin Randolph, I suppose," Tom added. "Nice opinion to have of a near relative, I must say. But then I'm inclined to agree with you. It may be only a queer coincidence, your getting such important news this afternoon, and some unknown party trying to bring about our downfall and death in this brazen way only a few hours afterwards."

"And using corrosive acid, too," spluttered the indignant Jack. "I've heard of ropes being partly cut, even wire stays or struts filed to weaken them; but this is the limit. Don't I wish they'd caught the skunk in the act!"

"He'd never have left this aviation camp alive," said Tom sternly. "Why, the boys would be so furious they'd be tempted to lynch him offhand."

"And I'd be glad to help pull the rope!" snapped Jack. "A more cowardly act couldn't be imagined than this. Air pilots take great enough chances, without being betrayed by spies or traitors."

"We'd better say nothing about it," Tom concluded. "I'm going to run over the entire machine on my own account."

"And I'll do the same, Tom; for a pilot can't be too sure of his mount, especially when there's such meanness afoot."

They accordingly busied themselves after their individual fashion. Every brace and stay was looked over carefully and tested as only pilots know how. Long experience, and many accidents have taught them where the weak spots lie, and they understand how to guard against the giving way at these points.

So the minutes passed. Other pilots had already ascended to await the assembling of the picked squadron at some given altitude. Every minute or two could be heard the rush of some unit starting forth. There were few of the accompaniments of an ordinary ascent, for all loud cries had been banned.

"All ready!" came the welcome words at last.

The last strut had been carefully gone over, and now everything was pronounced in perfect condition. At the same time, after such a discovery had been made, it was only natural for the boys to feel a queer tug in the region of their hearts as they climbed to their seats, and with hands that quivered a little proceeded to make fast the safety belts.

"There goes another bomber, which makes four—the full number you spoke of, Tom," remarked Jack. "I suppose we're holding up the procession more or less, worse luck, when usually we can be found in the lead."

"The commander must know about our mishap," replied Tom, "and isn't apt to blame us for any little delay. The night's still young, and we can reach our destination in half an hour, with time to spare. So cheer up, old comrade; everything's lovely and the goose hangs high. Now we're off!"

With that he gave the word, and paid attention to his motor, which started a merry hum. The propellers commenced to spin, and down the slight slope they ran with constantly increasing speed. All around them could be heard the refrain of planes in action; from above came similar sounds, and Jack, looking up, discovered dim scurrying forms of mysterious shape that flitted across the star-decked sky like giant bats.

Now they, too, were rising swiftly in spirals. Both kept a keen watch, for it was at this time they stood the greatest chance of taking part in an unfortunate collision that might result in a fatal disaster.

But every pilot was on edge, and careful to avoid any such blunder. They had been well drilled in all the maneuvers connected with just such a hurried ascent in numbers. Each plane had its regular orbit of action, and must not overstep the bounds on penalty of the commander's displeasure.

After mounting to the arranged height, the Air Service Boys found that it was a very animated region, though fully a thousand feet from the earth's surface. Almost a dozen planes in all were moving in a great circle, their motors lazily droning, and the pilots ready to enter into squadron formation on signal.

In fact, Tom and his chum were the last to arrive, which under the circumstances was not to be wondered at.

"All on deck, I reckon," called out Jack, after he had taken a survey about him. "There's the signal from the flagship, Tom. We've got to keep the red lantern ahead of us and fall into line. There go the bombers to the center, and our place you said was on the left, tailing the whole bunch."

Like a well disciplined aerial navy they fell into place, each taking its position as previously arranged. When the formation was made complete another signal was given. This meant the advance was now to begin, and the crossing of the German lines undertaken.

Unless there chanced to be some mistake made concerning the proper altitude required, so as to clear all possible bombardment when over the Hun lines, this might be accomplished without danger. So far as was known, they had gauged the utmost capacity for reaching them possessed by the German anti-aircraft guns, and Jack promised himself to jeer at the futile efforts of these gunners to explode their shrapnel shells close to the speeding armada.

Something must have been underrated, however; and, in fact, few plans can be regarded as absolutely perfect. The advancing raiders were passing over the enemy front when a furious bombardment suddenly burst forth below.

Jack could see the spiteful flashes of the numerous guns, and while the sound of the discharges came but faintly to his ears, to his consternation, all around them, as well as above and below, came sharp crackling noises, accompanied by bursts of dazzling light.

They were actually in the midst of a storm of bursting projectiles and in immediate peril of having some damage done to their swift-flying planes such as would spell ruin to the enterprise, perhaps bring instant death to some of the fliers!

VI. STRIKING A BLOW FOR LIBERTY

"Climb, Tom! Climb in a hurry!"

Jack Parmly shrilled these words close to the ear of his chum. Really, there was no need of his saying a single word, since the pilot had sensed their immediate danger just as quickly as had Jack himself. Already Tom was pulling the lever that would point the nose of their aerial craft upward toward the stars, and take them to a much loftier elevation.

The experience was very exciting while it lasted, Jack thought. He saw the numerous planes, forming the raiding squadron break formation in great haste, each pilot being eager to dodge the bursting shells and seek an elevation where they could not reach his flimsy craft.

It would take only one accidental shrapnel shell to cause the destruction of the best machine among them, and thus reduce the number of available airmen serving the cause of liberty.

For a brief interval the explosions continued to sound all around them. But presently Jack was enabled to breathe easily again. They had climbed beyond the range of the German guns, no matter how heavily charged; and, besides this, they sped along rapidly, so that the Hun lines were soon left behind.

"Trouble's past. Admiral signaling keep on this level, Tom!" called out the observer.

"Got you, Jack!" came the answer, heard above the rushing noises that "made the welkin ring," as Jack told himself.

The firing ceased as the German gunners realized, to their chagrin doubtless, that again their intended prey had eluded them. They must have set those anti-aircraft quick-firers of theirs in fresh elevated emplacements after the Yankees had taken the measure of their power to do harm; but the trap, if such it was intended to be, had failed to catch a single victim.

"Did they get any of our crowd?" Tom called out, feeling considerable uneasiness as to the result of the bombardment.

"Never touched us," he was immediately assured by the observant Jack. "All the same it was a smart trick, and somebody's bound to be hauled over the coals on account of the blunder."

"Yes," admitted Tom, speaking loud so as to be heard above the roar of the numerous planes around them, "because it might have played hob with the squadron, and even ruined the success of the whole expedition."

After that they relapsed into silence. It was exceedingly difficult to try to keep up any sort of conversation while going at such a furious pace through the upper air currents. Besides, the night was cold at such an elevation, and consequently both boys had their heads well muffled up, making use of hoods with goggles for the purpose. They also wore gloves on their hands, as well as heavy sweaters under their leather-lined coats.

The formation, in a way, reminded Jack of many a flock of wild geese that he had seen flying north or south over Virginia in their spring and autumn migrations. In the lead went the battleplane containing the squadron commander, forming the apex of the triangle, and showing a fiery red eye in the shape of an automobile rear light as a rallying point for all the other machines.

Then the seven other battleplanes sank away from the apex, three on one side and four on the other, that of the Air Service Boys being the one to the rear of all the rest.

Flying two and two abreast, and guarded on both sides by those sturdy fighting craft came the four huge bombers, each heavily laden with the most destructive of explosives. They, too, could show teeth if cornered and compelled to depend on their own defensive powers; for each of them carried a machine gun, of which the observer had been trained to make good use, just as he must know how to drop his bombs successfully when the proper instant arrived.

All seemed quiet just at present, but none of those guiding the aerial racing craft deceived themselves with the belief that this could last long. It went without saying that the Huns must realize the necessity for guarding the important bridge across which their beaten armies were flocking day and night in constantly increasing numbers. Unless the guns could be taken across in safety, they stood to lose many of their best batteries.

Consequently they would be apt to assemble a flotilla of fighting planes in that vicinity, ready to soar aloft and give furious battle to any Allied squadron venturesome enough to make the attempt at destruction.

If the blowing up of the bridge could only be accomplished, the sacrifice of a few planes with their crews might be counted a cheap price to pay for the great benefits reaped.

The minutes passed, and all the while the raiders were drawing nearer and nearer their intended goal. Every pilot and observer in that squadron had been carefully selected with a view to his fitness for the gigantic task that had been laid out for accomplishment.

There would be no hesitation when the eventful moment came, since none was present save those who had been tried in the furnace of battle and found to be fine gold, eighteen carat pure. Such a thing as flinching when the test came was not to be considered; they would carry through their appointed tasks or fall while in the endeavor, paying the price the airman has ever had dangled before his eyes.

Jack was using his night-glass, and he now broke out with a cry.

"We must be getting close to the bridge, Tom! I can see flickering lights darting about, and I believe they must be planes rushing up into the air!"

"Like as not they've been warned of our coming by the row we're making," replied the pilot, in a shout. "Then again those Huns along the line would send word back, for they must know what we're aiming at. It's all the same to us. We came out after action, and we'd be terribly disappointed if we didn't get a lot of it."

Then came signals from the leading plane. Closer formation was the rule from that time forward, since the bombers must be amply protected in order to allow their gunners an opportunity to get to work with those frightful explosives and hurl them at the place where the bridge was supposed to lie.

Both boys began to feel their pulses thrill with eagerness, as well as excitement. Looking down, Jack could detect moving lights, the source of which he could only speculate upon. Then came a flash which must mark the discharge of the first anti-aircraft gun. The enemy was showing exceeding nervousness, for as yet the leading American plane could not be anywhere within range.

With the burst of shrapnel there came a realization that the gunners below were only trying to get their range. The whole pack would break loose in another minute or less; but Jack had reason to believe their altitude was such as to render the fusillade harmless.

Then down below he saw a sudden brilliant flash. That must mark the falling of a flaming bomb, dropped from one of the big planes in order to get a lead on their location. Jack believed he had even glimpsed the bridge itself in that brief interval. How the prospect thrilled him!

Tom, on his part, had little opportunity to observe anything that was taking place earthward. His duty lay closer at hand, for he knew that a swarm of fighting Gothas had started up to engage the attacking squadron, and realized that one or more of these hostile aircraft might suddenly appear close at hand, bent on bringing about their destruction.

Besides, constant vigilance was the price of safety in other particulars. With almost a dozen of their own planes speeding through space, a false move on the part of a careless pilot was apt to bring about a collision that could have only one result.

Jack made a discovery just then that caused him to cry out.

"The signal, Tom! We are to drop down and give the bombers a better chance to get there. No matter what the cost, we've got to reach that bridge to-night!"

Already Tom was changing the course. They had begun to swing lower, each unit of the attacking squadron in its appointed place. A brief interval followed, and then came the bursting shrapnel again around them, while from several quarters close by hovering German planes commenced using their machine guns, to be answered by the challengers in like manner.

VII. THE BATTLE IN THE AIR

The din soon became general, one after another of the American planes joining in the battle. The German aircraft held off a little, fighting from afar, evidently thinking to accomplish their ends without taking too much risk. Had they boldly assaulted, doubtless the result would have been much more disastrous to both sides.

The big bombers had but one object in view, which was to bomb the important target below. To drop an explosive on a certain spot had been the most important training of those aboard these craft. They had been carefully selected from the ranks of the many observers taking service in the aviation branch of the service; and great things were expected of them now.

The Huns had concentrated the glare of numerous searchlights on the hub of the squadron's activities, so that the speeding planes could be seen darting hither and thither like bats during an August evening, darting around some arc-light in the street.

The flash of the distant guns aboard the planes looked like faint fire-flies in action. No longer was the earth wrapped in darkness, for flares dropped by the bombers kept continually on fire. The bridge stood plainly out, and a keen eye, even without the aid of glasses, could distinguish the rush of terrorized German troopers trying to get clear of the danger zone before a well directed bomb struck home.

Jack, leaning from his seat, took all this in. He was keyed to the top-notch by what he saw and heard. Tame indeed did most other incidents of the past appear when compared with this most stupendous event.

"Wow!" burst from his lips, as a sudden brilliant flash below told that the first huge bomb had struck; but with all that racket going on around of course no ordinary human voice could have been heard.

He could see that it had not been a successful attempt, for the bomb struck the ground at some little distance away from the terminus of the structure spanning the river. However, it did considerable damage where it fell, and created no end of alarm among those who were near by.

As yet the Air Service Boys had not been engaged with any of the hostile planes, though most of the other Yankee pilots seemed to be having their hands full in meeting and repelling fierce attacks.

Both kept in readiness for work should their turn come, Tom manipulating the plane, and Jack working the rapid-fire gun which he had learned to handle so cleverly.

Strangely enough, Jack, as he looked, was reminded of a vast circus which he had once attended, and where tumblers, athletes, and trained animals were all performing in three rings at the same time. He had found it utterly impossible to watch everything that went on, and remembered complaining lustily afterwards in consequence.

Now there were some eleven rings in all, besides what was taking place thousands of feet below, where the bombs had started to burst, tearing great gaps in the ground close to the bridge, and causing the water itself to gush upward like spouting geysers.

Lower still dropped the venturesome pilots guiding the destinies of the four huge bombers. What chances they were taking, bent only on succeeding in the important task to which they had been assigned!

Jack knew he would never forget that dreadful crisis, no matter if he were allowed to live to the age of Methuselah; such an impression did it make upon his mind.

But their turn came at length, for in the dim light two big Gothas were discovered swinging in toward them as though bent on bringing about the destruction of the Yankee battleplane.

Jack forgot about what was taking place below, since all of his energies must now be directed toward beating off this double attack. It had come to the point of self-preservation. The Hun airmen were playing a prearranged game of hunting in couples. While one made a feint at attacking, the other expected to take advantage of an exposure and inflict a fatal blow that would send the American aeroplane whirling to death.

Jack saw when the nearest plane opened fire. The spitting flame told him this, for it darted out like the fiery tongue of a serpent. He also realized that the bullets were cutting through space all around them; and a splinter striking his arm announced the fuselage of the plane had already been struck, showing the gunner had their range.

Then Jack began work on his own account, not meaning to let the fight become one-sided. His duty was to pepper any of the enemy craft that came within range, regardless of consequences. To Tom must be left the entire running of the plane motor, as well as the maneuvering that would form a part of the affray.

Heedless of what was taking place around them, the two chums devoted their attention to the task of baffling the designs of their two foes. Wonderfully well did Tom manage his aerial steed. They swung this way and that, dipped, rose, and cut corners in a dizzying fashion in the endeavor to confuse the aim of the Hun marksmen.

Once Jack experienced a sudden sinking in the region of his heart. There was a strange movement to the plane that made him fear the motor had been struck. He also missed the cheery hum at the same time, and felt a sickening sensation of falling.

But immediately he realized that Tom was only executing his pet drop, the nose-dive. One of the Huns followed them down, just as a hawk-might pursue its prey. When the American plane came out of the dive at the new level Jack saw that the Hun was closer than ever, and once again starting to bombard them.

At least they now had only a single adversary to deal with, which could be reckoned a point gained. Most of the fighting was going on above them, but Jack believed the bombers must be somewhere near by, possibly at a still lower level.

Again the maneuvering, or jockeying, for position commenced. In this air duel the pilot who knew his business best was going to come out ahead. It might be they were opposed by some celebrated German ace with a long list of victories to his credit, which would render their chances smaller.

Tom, however, seemed to be keeping up his end wonderfully well. The hissing missiles cut through the canvas of their wings, beat upon the side of the fuselage, and even nipped the Air Service Boys more than once as they stormed past. Neither of the boys knew whether they were seriously wounded or not; all they could do was to fight on and on, until something definite had been achieved on one side or the other.

Once Jack felt something blinding him, and putting up a hand discovered that it was wet; yet he was not conscious of having been struck in the head by a passing bullet. Dashing his sleeve across his eyes he shut his jaws still tighter together, and continued to play his gun as the opportunity arose.

They were coming to closer quarters, and the issue of the battle, however dreadful the result, could not be much longer delayed, Jack knew.

Then it happened, coming like a flash of lightning from the storm cloud!

VIII. BOMBING THE BRIDGE

"Tom, we've done it!" Jack shrieked, when he saw the enemy Gotha plane take a sudden significant dip and flutter downward like a stricken bird.

Evidently a shot more fortunate than any that had preceded it had struck a vital part of the rival craft, putting the motor suddenly out of repair.

When he felt his plane begin to crumple up under him the Hun pilot had commenced to strive frantically to recover control. Jack, horror-stricken by what was happening, leaned over and watched his struggle, which he knew was well nigh hopeless from the beginning.

Still the German ace made a valiant effort to avoid his fate. He could be seen working madly to keep from overturning, but apparently his hour had struck, for the last Jack saw of the beaten Gotha it was turning topsy-turvy, falling like a shooting star attracted to the earth by the law of gravitation.

That affair being over, Jack, breathing hard, now allowed himself to pay some attention to what was going on in other quarters. At the same time he proceeded to introduce a fresh belt of cartridges into the hungry maw of the machine gun, in case they were forced into another engagement.

Above them the battle still raged, though of course Jack could not decide which side might be getting the better of it. His interest focused chiefly on the bombing machines, which he found were now far away, moving along in erratic courses as their pilots strove to get in exact position for a successful blowing up of the bridge.

Jack could count only three of them. Unless the fourth had wandered far afield it looked as though disaster had overtaken its crew. No matter, even such a catastrophe must not deter those remaining from seeking by every means in their power to reach their objective.

Even as he stared downward Jack saw another of those brilliant flashes that proclaimed the bursting of a bomb. He felt a sense of chagrin steal over him, because so far no explosive seemed to have succeeded in attaining the great end sought. The bridge still stood intact, if deserted, for he could catch glimpses of it when the smoke clouds were drifted aside by the night breeze.

Fires were now burning in several quarters, started undoubtedly by some of the bombs that had missed their intended objective. These lighted up the scene and gave it a weird, almost terrifying aspect as witnessed from far above.

All at once Jack saw some bulky object pass between their machine and the ground below. It must be the missing bomber, he concluded, though the realization of the fact made him thrill all over in admiration of the nerve of those who could accept such terrible chances.

Yes, despairing of getting in a telling blow at such a height, the reckless crew of the big Yankee plane had actually dropped down until they could not be more than a thousand feet from the earth. And now they were speeding forward, meaning to test their skill at such close quarters.

Not being able to make Tom hear his voice, Jack gave the other a tug, and so managed to call his attention to what was passing below. Just in time did Tom look, for at that very moment there came another of those amazing brilliant illuminations, and the dull roar greeted their ears a few seconds afterwards.

They saw with staring eyes the air filled with the material that had once constituted the wonderful bridge, across which day and night the retreating Huns were taking their valuable guns and stores. A brief space of time did the scene bear the aspect of chaos, and then, when the smoke cleared sufficiently for them to see, they looked upon a void where the bridge had stood.

Jack fell back appalled, yet quivering with deepest satisfaction. Their raid would be one of triumph, since the main object had now been achieved.

Hardly had he allowed himself to exult after this fashion than Jack discovered that Tom seemed to be greatly agitated. So he once more looked down, filled with a sudden fear lest the gallant fighters in that adventurous bomber had paid dearly for their success.

He immediately saw that his alarm was not groundless. The big Yankee plane must have been struck in some vital part, for it was rapidly sinking as though doomed. Jack's only consolation lay in the fact that the crew seemed to be in better luck than those of the stricken Gotha; for they managed to keep from turning turtle; and unless striking the ground with too great violence might yet come out of the affair alive, even though finding themselves prisoners of war.

Tom was already striking for the upper levels. He saw that the other three bombers had also commenced to climb, since their mission was now carried out, and further risks would be only a needless hazard. Then, too, the crews of the battle Gothas, realizing that they had failed to save the bridge, concluded to withdraw from the combat, leaving the Americans to make their way back to their starting point, victorious and rejoicing.

Yes, there was the signal flashing from the plane of the commander, which meant that the raiding squadron should assemble above the reach of the crackling shrapnel, and prepare in a body for the homeward journey.

A sense of exultation, mingled with sincere thankfulness, gripped the hearts of the two Air Service Boys as they realized that the peril was now really a thing of the past. The homeward trip would be a mere bagatelle, for surely no Huns would venture to attack them while on the way. By exercising good judgment they ought also to keep above the reach of those elevated anti-aircraft guns along the front hills.

Now Jack remembered the temporary blinding sensation. He found on investigating that he had been near a serious accident, since a passing bullet had grazed his head, cutting the skin and causing quite a copious flow of blood.

"What's happened to you?" called out the alarmed Tom, on seeing that the other was binding his handkerchief about his head.

"Another scratch, that's all," replied Jack, as though that were only a matter of course, to be expected when modern knights of the upper air currents sallied forth bent on adventure. "A miss is as good as a mile, you know, Tom. And I guess I have a hard head in the bargain. It's all right, nothing to worry over. Fortunately it didn't strike me in the face, and mar my beauty any."

Jack could joke under almost any serious conditions; but Tom felt relieved to know the worst. They were at the time back again in their appointed place, tailing the procession.

Counting again as best he could, Jack discovered that there were only seven of the battleplanes in the double line now. It looked very much as though the loss of the big bomber was not the only penalty they had paid for their daring raid. But no doubt the story would all be told after the flight was over and the various pilots and observers could get together to compare notes.

Again were they subjected to a bombardment when they sailed over the German front lines; but this time, taking a lesson from their previous experience, they maintained such an altitude that no shrapnel was able to reach them.

Shortly afterward, and one by one, the battered Yankee planes dropped on the open field where the hangars lay, like huge buzzards alighting to satisfy their hunger in an orgy.

The first thing Tom did when he and Jack found themselves again on their feet and the waiting mechanics and hostlers looking after their plane, was to reach out and seize upon his chum's hand.

"We've got good reason to congratulate ourselves on coming through that nasty business so well, Jack," he said earnestly. "If you look at our machine you'll see how near we came a dozen times to cashing in our checks. They knocked us up pretty well, for a fact."

"I should say they did," admitted Jack, as he examined the various marks showing where the Hun bullets had punctured different parts of the wings, or struck the fuselage, narrowly missing both the motor and the partly protected petrol supply tank.

They lingered around for a full hour, there was so much to talk about as they gathered in groups and compared experiences, as well as commented on the possible fate of their fellow aviators who had failed to return.

In spite of the loss incurred, the achievement accomplished was of such a character as to fill them with pardonable pride. No member of that historical night raid, whereby the retreat of the Germans was so badly handicapped by the loss of the big bridge, would ever have cause to blush for his part in the bold undertaking.

Finally the two chums, finding themselves exhausted and in need of sleep, broke away from the chattering throng and sought their bunks in the former Hun dugout. All was now silence around them, the enemy batteries having ceased sending over even occasional shells; and they were able to enjoy a few hours of rest undisturbed by having the roof of their shelter damaged by a chance explosion.

On the following morning the advance was resumed, the same tactics being employed that had met with such success all through the Argonne. Wherever they discovered that machine-gun nests had been placed these were "mopped-up" by surrounding them, and then attacking from the rear, while the attention of the defenders of the stone house, or it might be a windmill foundation, was gripped by a pretense at frontal assault.

Those who had participated in the air raid on the bridge were given a day off, so as to recuperate. They felt that they deserved it, for the destruction of that bridge was apt to be a serious stumbling-block in the path of the retreating Huns, one that might cost them dearly in the way of prisoners and lost artillery.

Jack utilized this opportunity by striving to learn important facts in connection with the matter that was weighing so heavily on his mind. He absented himself from the dugout which the air pilots continued to occupy and which they disliked giving up until assured of some other half-way decent billet in a village that might be abandoned by Fritz when falling back.

Of course Jack had to have his slight wounds attended to, and in order to make sure that he had not neglected this before going off, Tom, during the morning, found it absolutely necessary to wander over to the field hospital, where of course he looked up Nellie.

Really it took almost a full hour for him to make all the inquiries he considered essential; and he might have consumed a still longer time but that there was a call for the nurse's services, and she had to excuse herself.

"Never mind," said Tom grimly to himself, as he made his way back to the old dugout, "it was well worth the walk. And Nellie is looking fine, for a fact. They call her the most popular nurse at the front, and I've heard fellows in plenty say that if ever they got knocked out by Hun bullets they'd want nothing better than to have her take care of them."

He did not find Jack anywhere around when he got back, nor had those he asked seen anything of him since early morning. Of course Tom knew what it was that engaged the attention of his comrade, and he only hoped Jack might not meet with any bad luck in his endeavor to learn something of the movements of his cousin, Randolph Carringford.

Then came the afternoon. From indications Tom fancied that would be their last night in the old dugout. The Huns were still falling back, and word had been going around that by another day the Yankees would undoubtedly occupy the village that lay just beyond the hills where the bursting shrapnel had ascended on the occasion of the passage of the air squadron.

It was about four o'clock when Tom sighted his chum. Jack's face was gloomy, and he lacked his customary sprightliness of walk.

As he came up he tried to smile, but it was a rank failure.

"Well," he said disconsolately, "the very worst has happened, Tom. I've managed to get word after trying for hours, and have learned that my cousin sailed yesterday from Havre. He's beat me to it, and I've lost out!"

IX. CONVINCING PROOF

"Are you sure about that?" asked Tom, though at the same time realizing that Jack was not the one to give in easily, and must have used every avenue for gaining information before reaching this condition of certainty.

"There's not the slightest reason to doubt it, I tell you, Tom," Jack replied slowly, shaking his head at the same time to emphasize his sorrowful feelings in the matter. "I asked particularly, and the word came that a passenger named Randolph Carringford had sailed yesterday on the La Bretagne for New York."

"Then that point seems settled," admitted Tom, though disliking to acknowledge the fact. "Still, something might happen to prevent his reaching New York City, or Virginia."

"What could stop him, since I'm utterly powerless to do anything?" asked Jack, still unconvinced.

"Well," continued the would-be comforter, "vessels have started out before this and never arrived at their destination. Take the Lusitania for instance. More than ever are the Hun submersibles on the job these critical days, for their commanders know they've almost got to their last gasp."

"No such luck for me, I'm afraid, Tom," sighed the other, quickly adding: "And for that matter I wouldn't want to profit at the expense of the lives of others. So I hope the French boat gets safely past the closed zone, no matter what it costs me personally. But it galls me to feel how helpless I am. If my hands were tied this minute I couldn't be worse off."

"Are you sure cabling would do no good, if we could manage to send an urgent message?"

"Nothing will do except my presence there in person before Randolph can present himself, thanks to our uncle's foolish will that puts a premium on rascality. Yes, it's a bitter pill I have to swallow. I'd do anything under the sun if only I could hope to beat that scheming cousin out! But it's useless; so I'll just have to grin and bear it."

"I wish I had any suggestion to offer," remarked Tom; "but to tell the truth I don't see what you can do but wait and see what happens. We've got our applications for leave in, and some influential friends pulling wires to help us through. Something may turn up at the last minute."

"It's mighty fine of you to say that, though I know you're only trying to keep me from discouragement."

"See who's coming, will you?" suddenly ejaculated Tom.

Even before he looked the other could give a shrewd guess as to the identity of the person approaching, for Tom seemed unduly pleased.

"It's Nellie, as sure as anything," muttered Jack. "I wonder what's brought her over here. You don't imagine anything could have happened to Bessie or Mrs. Gleason—the Huns haven't been trying to bomb any 'Y' huts or hospitals lately, have they, Tom?"

"Not that I've heard," came the ready answer. "And besides, I had the pleasure of chatting with Nellie for a whole hour this morning. You see I got a bit anxious about you; was afraid you'd neglected to step over and get those cuts attended to as you'd promised; so to make sure I wandered across."

"Of course you did!" jeered Jack. "And if that excuse hadn't held water there were plenty more shots in the locker! But never mind; here's Nellie hurrying toward us. Doesn't she look rather serious, Tom?"

"We'll soon know what's in the wind," was the answer, as the pretty Red Cross nurse hastened to join the two boys.

"You didn't expect to see me again so soon, I imagine, Tom," she said as she came up, trying to catch her breath at the same time, for she had evidently hurried.

"No, I must say I didn't dream I'd have that pleasure, Nellie," replied the air pilot, as he took her hand in his and squeezed it. "But something unusual must have brought you all the way over here, I imagine."

"Well, it was, Tom," she told him.

"It isn't safe either," continued Tom, "for you to be abroad. The Huns are likely to begin long range shelling any minute, and the road's a favorite target for their gunners; they've got it's range down fine."

"It isn't about Bessie, I hope?" ventured Jack, still more or less apprehensive.

Nellie looked at him and slightly smiled, for she knew Jack was exceedingly fond of the young girl.

"Bessie is perfectly well," she assured him; "and when I passed the Y hut she and her mother were helping some of the Salvation Army girls make a fresh heap of doughnuts. But my coming does concern you, Jack."

"Please explain what you mean by that?" he begged her, while his face lighted up with interest, showing that for the moment his troubles, lately bearing so heavily upon him, were forgotten.

"I will, and in as few words as possible," she answered, "for my time is limited. I left several cases to be cared for by a nurse who has not had as thorough a training as she might have had, and the responsibility lies with me. But I can give you five minutes before I start back again."

Needless to say Nellie by this time had both boys fairly agog with curiosity, for neither of them could give the slightest guess as to the nature of the news she was bringing.

"You see, they were bringing in a lot of fresh cases," she explained, "for there has been some furious fighting going on this morning, as our boys drove in to chase the Huns out of the village. Among the number of wounded, one man among others fell into my care. His name is Bertrand Hale, and I think both of you know him."

Tom and Jack exchanged looks.

"We have met him many times," said the former; "but I can't say that he has ever been a friend of ours. He's rather a wild harum-scarum sort of chap—I imagine his own worst enemy, for he drinks heavily when he can get it, and spends much of the time in the guard-house. Still, they say he's a fighter, every inch of him, and has done some things worth mentioning."

"I imagine you describe him exactly, Tom," Nellie told him. "Very well, this time he's in a pretty bad way, for he has a number of serious injuries, and, besides has lost his left arm, though it's possible he may pull through if his constitution hasn't been weakened too much through dissipation."

"But what about Bertrand Hale, Nellie? Did he tell you anything that would be of interest to us?" asked Tom.

"I can see that you're beginning to suspect already, Tom," she continued. "For that is exactly what happened. He kept following me with his eyes as I moved around doing my work, after taking care of him. Then he beckoned to me, and asked whether I wasn't a particular friend of Jack Parmly and Tom Raymond.

"Of course I assured him it was so, and with that he looked so very eager that I knew he had a secret to tell me. This is the gist of what he said, boys. Just four days ago he was approached by a man he didn't know, who managed to get some strong drink into his hands, and after Hale had indulged more than he ought made a brazen proposition to him.

"It was to the effect that he was willing to pay a certain sum to have you boys injured so that you would be laid up in the hospital for weeks. He had gained the promise first of all that Bertrand would never say a word about what he meant to tell him.

"Although he admitted that his mind was hardly clear at the time, still Bertrand assured me he had repelled the offer with indignation, and even threatened to beat up his tempter unless he took himself off. The man hurried away, and then in the excitement of the order for his battalion to go over the top, Bertrand Hale forgot all about it.

"From that time on it was nothing but fighting and sleeping for him, so he had no time even to think of warning you. Then he got into the mess this morning that finished him. With that arm gone he's done with fighting, he knows, even if he pulls through.

"It was the sight of me that made him remember, for he said he surely had seen me with one of you boys several times. And so he confessed, begging me to get word to you, so that if the unknown schemer did find a tool to carry out his evil plots you would be on your guard.

"I could not wait after hearing that, but came as fast as I could, fearing you might have set out again and that something would go wrong with your plane. That is the story simply told, Tom. Can you guess why any one should wish to do either of you such a wrong as that?"

"What you tell us, Nellie," said Tom soberly, "clears up one mystery we've been puzzling over."

Then he rapidly sketched what they had discovered on the preceding night, when they had arrived at the hangar prepared to go forth with the raiders, only to learn that some unknown person had been meddling with their plane.

"So it looks as if Bertrand's refusal to play the dirty game didn't prevent that man from finding some one who was willing to sell his soul for money," was the way Tom wound up his short story.

Nellie was appalled. Her pretty face took on an expression of deepest anxiety, showing how much she cared should ill-fortune attend these good friends of hers.

"How can such wickedness exist when war had made so many heroes among our boys?" she mourned. "But you must be doubly on your guard, both of you. Tell me, can you guess why this unknown person should want to injure you?"

"Simply to keep me from setting out for America," said Jack bitterly. "Let me describe my cousin Randolph to you, Nellie; and then tell me if what Bertrand said about the unknown man would correspond to his looks."

After she had heard his accurate description Nellie nodded her head.

"He saw very little of his face, so he said. Bertrand only said the other was a man of medium build, with a soft voice that made him think of silk and then too he had a trick of making gestures with his left hand, just as you've said your cousin does. Yes, something tells me your guess is close to the mark; but he must be a very wicked man to attempt such a dreadful thing."

"Worse than I ever thought," admitted Jack grimly. "But after all nothing came of his lovely scheme; nor did it matter, since he's given me the slip, and is right now almost a third of the way across the sea. I'm like a race-horse left at the post."

"Whatever you do, Jack, don't lose the fine courage that has been your mainstay through other troubles," Nellie said, as she laid a hand on his arm and looked steadfastly into the young air-pilot's face.

"Thank you, Nellie, for your confidence in me," he continued, showing some of his old spirit again. "I ought to be ashamed to give in so easily. Yes, Tom and I have been in plenty of bad scrapes, and pulled out just because we set our teeth and refused to admit we were down and out. So I'm going to try the same dodge in this case, and not acknowledge defeat until the ninth inning is through, and the last man down."

"Good-bye, both of you, and remember, no matter what comes some of us are always thinking of you and praying for your safety."

With these words, long remembered by both boys, Nellie gave each of them her hand, and hurried away before they could see how her eyes dimmed with the gathering mists.

"A brave girl," said Tom, with considerable vigor, as he tenderly watched her retreating figure and waved his hand when he saw her turn to blow a farewell kiss in their direction.

"Yes," said Jack, heaving a sigh. "She and Bessie seem to be our good angels in this bad mess of war, Tom. I feel better after hearing her words of encouragement; but all the same I'm still groping in the dark. How am I going to beat Randolph across the Atlantic? For once I wish I had wings, and might fly across the sea like a bird. How quickly I'd make the start."

X. GROPING FOR LIGHT

Tom realized that for once his chum was completely broken up, and hardly knew which way to turn for help. This told him that if anything were done to relieve the desperate situation it would have to originate with him.

"Stick to your programme, Jack, and don't give up the ship. Until you know that Randolph has reached the other side, and entered into possession of the property, there's still some hope left."

"Yes, a fighting chance. And I must hang to it like a leech," admitted the other, trying to smile, but making a sorry mess of it.

"How do we know what the good fairy may do for you, so as to outwit the villain of the piece?" continued Tom. "While it isn't a pleasant thing to speak of, still some marauding undersea boat may lie in wait for his ship, and in the sinking who can tell what fate may overtake your cousin?"

"It would only serve him right if he did go down like others, a thousand times nobler than Randolph, have done before now," grumbled Jack; and somehow the vague possibility excited him, for his eyes began to sparkle and take on a look that told Tom he was seeing the whole thing before his mental vision.

For a purpose Tom chose to encourage this supposition; it would have the effect of building up Jack's sinking hopes, and just then that was the main thing. So Tom proceeded to picture the scene, having plenty of material from which to draw, for he had read the details of more than one submarine sinking.

"It must be a terrible sensation to any passenger, no matter how brave he may think himself," he went on to say, "when he feels the shock as a torpedo explodes against the hull of the steamer and knows that in a short time she is doomed to be swallowed by the sea. And you told me once yourself, Jack, that this scheming cousin of yours couldn't swim a stroke."

"Worse even than that!" declared Jack, with a sneer on his face to express his contempt, "he's a regular coward about the water. And if they do have the hard luck to run up against a Hun torpedo, Randolph will be frightened half to death."

"Queer," commented Tom, "how most of these schemers prove to have a yellow streak in their make-up, when the test really comes. Just picture him running screaming up and down the deck, and being kicked out of the way by every officer of the vessel when he implores them to save him."

"I can see it all as plain as day!" cried Jack excitedly. "And if I know human nature the chances are those sailors would think of the coward last of all."

"Yes, they'd leave him to the sinking ship if there was no room in the boats, you can depend on that, Jack. And now set your teeth as you usually do, and tell me again that you're not going to own up beaten until the umpire says the game is over."

"I do promise you, Tom," came the immediate response, showing that Jack was getting a fresh grip on his sinking courage and hopes. "But all the same, I keep on groping, and I'd like to see the light."

"For a change of subject," Tom observed, "shall we tell Lieutenant Beverly about your troubles? I've just glimpsed him coming this way."

"No reason why we shouldn't," agreed Jack. "He's a good friend of mine and three heads might be better than two in cracking this hard nut I'm up against. But he looks as if he might be bringing us news. Ten to one he's going to say the way is cleared for us to take that long trip with him to Berlin and back in his big Martin bomber."

"Too bad to disappoint him," remarked Tom. "But of course that's out of the question now."

"I'd have been glad of the chance to go, only for this sudden complication in my own affairs," Jack sighed. "But why couldn't you take the spin in his company, Tom? It's a pity to break up his plans."

"And desert my chum when he's in trouble? I'd never forgive myself for doing such a thing. The lieutenant will have to find some other pals for his record making Berlin and back flight."

Jack thought he detected a vein of regret in his comrade's voice, and he quickly flashed:

"You're disappointed, of course, Tom; you've been counting on that trip all the while, because its daring and dash appealed to you, just as they did to me."

"Forget it, please," urged Tom sturdily. "It was only a dream, and, after all, perhaps it couldn't be carried out. For all we know it may be the best thing in the world for us that we're prevented from starting; for such a long flight is a great risk, and might end our careers."

"Well, here's the lieutenant," said Jack, turning to greet the newcomer, and striving to look natural, though it cost him a great effort.

"I've hurried here as fast as I could!" exclaimed Beverly, his eyes sparkling with pleasure. "I wanted to bring the good news before you received it officially."

"What's that?" demanded Jack, turning a puzzled look toward his chum.

"Why, when they notified me I could have three weeks' leave of absence from duty, with no question concerning my movements during the interim, I chanced to learn that your request had also been granted. Both of you will be free, don't you understand? and the big game is now open to us."

"Well, that's certainly good news you've brought us, Lieutenant Beverly," said Tom, accepting the other's extended hand which was offered in congratulation. "I suppose you're counting now on getting that long flight off your mind? I regret to tell you I fear it's hull down in the distance for the two of us!"

"What! You haven't flunked, Tom? I'd never believe either of you could go back on me like that," cried the other, looking sorely distressed and bitterly disappointed.

"Circumstances over which we have no control," continued Tom, while Jack hung his head and looked gloomy, "have arisen to knock our plans galley-west. Much as we'd be pleased to make the game, we simply can't do it."

"But the bomber is all ready and waiting!" gasped Lieutenant Beverly. "And we're having a vacation extended to us, with no red tape or strings tied to the conditions! Why, the track is cleared for the biggest flight on record, and now you tell me you'll have to drop out. See here, what's this mean? There's something queer about it all, I know."

"Just what there is, Lieutenant," remarked Jack, looking him squarely in the eye, "and it's only right you should know the reason. Tom might go along with you, but he absolutely refuses to leave me alone to fight against the slickest scoundrel living. Now listen, and I'll sketch the whole story for you."

This he proceeded to do rapidly, omitting nothing that seemed of moment. When the meddler's secret work in tampering with their plane before they went up on the night raid was mentioned, the flight lieutenant's eyes flashed with indignation. Being a pilot himself he could appreciate such rank treachery better than any layman could.

"That's how the land lies," said Jack in conclusion. "And you understand now just why we must disappoint you, and make you look elsewhere for two companions on your trip to Berlin to frighten the Huns. It breaks my heart to decline, but this other matter must take my whole attention."

"You don't blame Jack, do you?" asked Tom.

"I should say not!" came the ready answer, accompanied by a keen look, first at Jack and then at the other, as a dazzling idea suddenly flashed into Beverly's mind. "Business before pleasure, every time with me; and it's only right you should devote every atom of your mind and body to beating that skunk to the post."

"We've settled on that policy all right," said Jack. "The only trouble is we haven't so far found a remedy to overcome his long lead; for he's got almost two days' run head of me, you understand."

Tom saw the lieutenant smile broadly and draw a long breath. Then something seemed to grip his heart as he heard Beverly say:

"Hold on! I've got an inspiration, boys. Perhaps there may be a way open to beat him to it yet!"

XI. THE AMAZING PLAN

"Tell us what you mean, please?" begged the excited Jack.

"Take things coolly, to begin with," warned the other; "because what I'm going to say will almost stun you at first, I suppose. But it's no new idea with me. Fact is, I'd planned it all out in my mind long ago; had it more than half arranged at the time I ordered that monster Martin bomber built at my own expense and shipped over to France."

"Yes," muttered Jack, while he kept his eyes glued hungrily on the flushed face of the other.

Tom said nothing, but looked as though he already half guessed what was coming, if the eager and expectant gleam in his eyes signified anything.

"I explained to you," the lieutenant continued steadily, "that the big bomber was equipped for a trip to Berlin and back; and went so far as to say the flight could be repeated without making a landing, if there was any need of such a thing. All right, then; in a pinch, properly loaded with plenty of gasoline and stores, that machine would be able to take three fellows like you two and myself all the way across the Atlantic, and land us on American soil! Get that, do you, Jack?"

No one said a word for half a minute. The proposition was so astounding that it might well have appalled the stoutest heart. At that time no one had attempted to cross the Atlantic in a heavier-than-air plane, a feat later on successfully accomplished. Nobody had piloted the way in a Yankee-made seaplane; nor had any one navigated the air passage in a monster dirigible. The three thousand miles of atmosphere lying between Europe and America still stood an uncharted sea of vapor, where every imaginable evil might lie in wait for the modern Columbus of aerial navigation.

Then Jack drew a long breath. The lieutenant was watching the play of emotion across his face, and he knew the seed had been sown in good ground, where it was bound to take root. Jack's extremity would be his, Lieutenant Beverly's, opportunity. So he returned to the attack, meaning to "strike while the iron was hot."

"It staggers you at first, of course, Jack," he said, in his confident, convincing way. "But why should it? The danger is great, but nothing more than we're up against every day we set out for the clouds to give battle to a tricky Hun ace, who may send us down to our death. And I assure you we'd have at least a fighting chance to get across. What do you say, Jack?"

For answer the other whirled on his chum. His face was lighted up with that sudden and unexpected renewal of hope, just when it had seemed as though he had fallen into the pit of despair.

"Tom, would it be madness, do you think?" he cried, clutching the other by the arm, his fingers trembling, his eyes beseeching.

"We'd have a fair chance of making it, just as Colin says," Tom slowly answered. "Much would of course depend on contrary winds; and there'd be fighting in the fog banks we'd surely strike. But Jack,—"

"Yes, Tom?" gasped the other, hanging on his chum's words eagerly, as one might to the timbers of a slender bridge that offered a slim chance to reach a longed-for harbor.

"If you decide to accept the venture I'm with you!" finished Tom.

At that the eager flight lieutenant showed the utmost enthusiasm.

"Call it settled then, Jack, so we can get busy working out the programme!" he begged, again insisting upon gripping a hand of each.

Jack found himself carried along with the current. He could not well have resisted had he so desired, which was far from being the case. It seemed to him as though he were on a vessel which had drifted for hours in the baffling fog, and then all of a sudden the veil of mist parted, to show him the friendly shore beyond, just the haven for which he was bound.

"It is, perhaps, a desperate attempt to make such a flight on short notice," Jack said. "But think! If we succeed! And think, too, of that schemer winning the prize! Yes, Tom, since you've already agreed to stand in with me, I say—go!"

After that a fever seemed to burn in Jack's veins, due to the sudden revulsion of feeling from despair to hope. He asked many questions, and for an hour the three talked the matter over, looking at the possibilities from every conceivable angle.

Tom was not so sanguine of success as either of his mates; but he kept his doubts to himself. As an ambitious airman he was thrilled by the vastness of the scheme. As Lieutenant Beverly had truly remarked, while it held chances of disaster, they were accepting just as many challenges to meet their death every day of their service as battleplane pilots.

Then again it seemed to be the only hope offered to poor Jack; and Tom was bound to stick by his chum through thick and thin. So he fell in with the great scheme, and listened while the flight lieutenant touched upon every feature of the contemplated flight.

Luckily it was no new idea with him, for he had spent much time and labor in figuring it all out to a fraction, barring hazards of which they could of course know nothing until they were met.

"I've got all the charts necessary," he assured them, after they had about exhausted the subject, with Jack more enthusiastic than ever. "And while you boys are waiting to receive your official notifications, which ought surely to come to-morrow, since there was a hurry mark on them, I noticed, I'll rush over to the coast and see that additional supplies of fuel and food are put aboard."

"Don't stint the gas, above everything," urged Jack. "We'd be in a pretty pickle to run out while still five hundred miles from shore. If it was only a big seaplane now, such as we hear they're building over in America, we might drop down on a smooth sea and wait to be picked up by some ship; but with a bomber, it would mean going under in a hurry."

"Make your mind easy on that score, Jack," came the lieutenant's reply. "I'll figure to the limit, and then if the plane can carry another fifty gallons it'll go aboard in the reserve reservoir. I'm taking no chances that can be avoided. There'll be enough to bother us, most likely. And, for one, I'm not calculating on committing suicide. I hope to live to come back here aboard some ship, and see the finish of this big, exciting scrap."

Tom liked to hear him talk in that serene way. It showed that Lieutenant Colin Beverly, while a daring aviator was not to be reckoned a reckless one; and there is a vast difference between the two. Tom was of very much the same temperament himself, as was proved in past stirring incidents in his career, known to all those who have followed the fortunes of the Air Service Boys in previous books of this series.

"Is there anything else to confer about?" asked Tom. "Because I can see you're itching to get away, Colin."

"Not a thing, as far as I know," came the reply. "If any fresh idea happens to strike me I'll have it on tap when you arrive. Are you sure you've got the directions how to get to Dunkirk, and then how to find my secret hangar on the coast beyond the town, Tom?"

"We'll be ready to skip out just as soon as our official notice comes to hand," the other assured him.

"That's the only thing bothering me just now," observed Jack. "Any delay there might ruin our plans at the last minute. As it is, we're not apt to have any too much time to beat the steamer to New York."

"I expect you to show up to-morrow night, and then we can slip away unnoticed in the dark," said the lieutenant. "I've kept tabs on the weather conditions, as it's always been a fad with me; and I'm happy to say there seems to be no storm in prospect, while the winds are apt to be favorable, coming from the east, a rare thing these fall days. So-long, boys, and here's success to our jolly little flight!"

After he had left them Jack turned on his comrade to say:

"It seems to be our only chance, and not a long one at that; but I'm bent on trying it out. Anything to beat Randolph to the tape, Tom!"

XII. GRIPPED IN SUSPENSE

From that hour on Jack continued in a fever of suspense. His one thought was of the coming of the official notification connected with their hoped-for leave.

Tom fancied that his chum did not get much sleep on the following night, the last both of them hoped they would have to spend in the dugout used as a billet back of the American front.

So another day found them. Jack took special delight in casting up figures connected with the case. These he would show to his chum, and make various comments. Tom, realizing how the other was endeavoring to suck consolation from this proceeding, encouraged him in it.

"By to-night," Jack said, more than once, "it will be three whole days since the steamer sailed from Havre. I've tried to find out how fast she is, and then figured that they'd have to slow down when passing through the barred zone. I reckon it will take her eight or nine days to get across."

"Oh, all of that," Tom assured him; "and it might be as many as twelve. You see, the few passenger steamers still in use haven't been in dry dock for the longest time, and their hulls must be covered with barnacles, which cuts off considerable from their speed."

Jack gave him a thankful look.

"You're the best sort of jollier, Tom," he observed. "You know how to talk to a fellow who's quivering all over with eagerness and dread. What if something happens to hold up those notices until it's too late for even Colin's big bomber to catch up with the steamer?"

"You're only borrowing trouble when you allow yourself to fear that," was the reply. "But all the same, I mean to do everything I can to get things hurried along. I'll see the general, and with your permission explain to him that there's great need of our getting word to-day."

"But, surely, you wouldn't dare hint anything about the big trip we want to take, Tom?" asked Jack, looking alarmed.

"I should say not!" came the immediate response. "If we did that, the general would consider it his duty to put his foot down on the mad scheme right away. Trust me to let him know we stand to lose out in something that concerns your whole future if the notifications are delayed beyond early this afternoon, and I'm sure he'll start the wires going to get them here."

"What can I be doing in the meanwhile?"

"You might see to making arrangements for crossing to the coast on the first train that goes out," answered Tom.

"But that's going to be slow traveling, even if we're lucky enough to get aboard," protested the other. "Tom, do you think the general would permit us to take our machine, and fly to Dunkirk?"

"Good! That's a clever idea you've hit on, Jack!" exclaimed the other. "I'll take it up with the general when I see him. He might find it convenient, you know, to have some message sent across the country to the coast; and it would save us hours of time, perhaps win the race for us. A splendid thought, Jack!"

"Then let's hope it can be carried through," returned the other.

Tom did not lose any more time but hurried away to try to get an opportunity to talk with the kindly old general. He had always shown an interest in the fortunes of the two Air Service Boys, and they had already received favors from him on several occasions.

The minutes dragged while he was gone. Jack could not keep still, so nervous did he feel, but continued walking up and down, "like a tiger in its cage," he told himself. He ran through the entire gamut of possible troubles and triumphs in his mind, as he tried to picture the whole thing.

"What great luck to have Colin Beverly break in on us just at the time when my fortunes had reached their lowest ebb," Jack kept saying to himself.

At last Tom came back. Jack could read success in his looks, even before the other had had a chance to open his mouth and say a single word.

"It's all right then, I take it, Tom?" he exclaimed impulsively.

"Didn't have any trouble at all in interesting the general," replied the messenger joyfully. "He said he'd see to having an urgent call go out to hurry the notifications along, and almost promised they'd get here by two this afternoon."

"And how about the plane business?"

"That's all settled in the bargain. I have written permission to make use of our plane, turning it over to a certain agent in Dunkirk after we've arrived there. The general will send a message over to us which we're to deliver at the same time we give up the machine."

"Great work, Tom! I've always said you'd make a mighty fine diplomatic agent, if ever you tried, and now I know it."

"No soft-soap business, please. If it had been anybody but the general I'd have surely fallen down on my job. But you know he's always had an interest in us, Jack."

"Do you think he suspected anything?" asked the other.

"Sure he did, but not the thing, for nobody in the wide world would ever dream we were planning such an unheard of thing as a non-stop flight across the Atlantic."

Tom dropped his voice to a whisper when he said this; not that there seemed to be any particular need of caution, but simply on general principles. They could not afford to take any chance of having their great plan discovered in these early stages of the game.

"Well, I don't know how I'm going to hold out much longer," complained Jack. "I can't keep still five minutes, but have to jump up and walk it off. Let's see—two o'clock you said, didn't you? That'll be nearly three long hours more. It's simply terrible, Tom! Sixty minutes in each hour!"

"But then we'll have to eat our regular midday meal, remember," Tom tried to cheer his companion up by saying. "If you prefer it, we might walk over to the field-hospital, which, by the way, I hear is to be moved ahead to-night, to keep in closer touch with the wounded straggling back from the front. The Y hut's close by, too, and we'd enjoy an hour or so with the girls. Nellie told me she expected her brother, Harry, to be back on our sector any day now, and if he should come before we clear out we'd be mighty glad to see him."

Jack hesitated.

"Gee! you do tempt a fellow, Tom," he finally remarked, as though coming to a conclusion. "Nothing I'd like better than to chat with Bessie and have a few of those Salvation Army girls' doughnuts to munch. But I guess it would be foolish in our laying off just now."

"You mean the notifications might arrive while we were gone?" remarked Tom, nodding his head, pleased because the other took such a sensible view of the matter.

"Yes. We might lose a whole hour, perhaps two, by being away," explained Jack. "That would be too bad; it might even turn out a catastrophe, if in the end that hour would save us from being beaten in the race against time."

"All right, then, we'll hang around and watch for something to come from Headquarters. The general promised me he'd have the notifications sent over without any delay just as soon as they came."

"Let's go over to the flying field and watch some of the boys come in," suggested Jack, and to this the other readily assented.

Even when an airman is off-duty his special delight lies in "hanging out" at the aviation field, seeing his fellow workers go forth, watching their return, and listening to the many thrilling accounts of battles fought, as well as perils endured.

The fascination of the sport, once it has fairly gripped a man, makes him its slave; he can think of little else; and doubtless even in dreams he fancies himself performing unusual hazards and earning the applause of the multitude.

However this proved to be a very good panacea for Jack's nervousness and they managed to put in a full hour there. Business was unusually brisk in the way of engagements; and Tom more than once secretly regretted that circumstances beyond their control caused them to miss a "whole lot of fun."

The enemy was up in the air in more ways than one on that day. Desperation on account of the blowing up of the bridge caused the German plane scouts to meet the challenges offered by the exultant Yankees, and news of many an encounter kept coming in about the time the two boys thought of leaving the field and going for their dinner.

Word had also been received of several accidents to American pilots, and it looked as though the history of that eventful day would set a new high-water mark in the way of losses.

Jack even began to fear they might be ordered to go up, which would bring about a fresh delay while communication was being established with Headquarters to verify their story. So he was really glad when Tom drew him away by suggesting that it was time they dined.

At one o'clock they were at their headquarters, killing time and waiting. Jack's nerves once more began showing signs of being frayed, or "ragged," as he called it. He jumped at the least unusual sound, and alternately looked expectant and despairing.

It was now close to two o'clock, and as yet there was no sign of relief. Jack jumped up for the twentieth time and started to walk back and forth, while others among the airmen were gathering their belongings together, preparatory to a change of base.

Then a messenger was seen hurrying toward them. Jack became almost wild with excitement, until he knew for a fact the notifications had arrived.

"And now," said Tom, "let's put for the field and get away without any further loss of time. It's a long way to Dunkirk, remember, even by way of the air line, as a bee would take it. And we must get there before dark!"

They ran part of the way, and thus presented themselves before the hangar. Ample preparations had already been made. The petrol tank had been filled, and, everything being in readiness, they would have nothing to do but jump aboard and make a quick start.

But Tom was too old a pilot to take things for granted. After that recent experience with treachery he meant to be doubly careful before risking their lives in the air. Dunkirk on the Channel was a considerable distance off; and a drop when several thousand feet above French soil would go just as hard with them as if it were German territory.

Accordingly he took a survey of the plane from tip to tip of the wings; looked over the motor, tested every strut and stay, leaving nothing to Jack, who was fairly quivering with the intensity of his feelings.

Even the longest day must come to an end, and Tom's examination was finally completed.

"Get aboard!" he told Jack. "We're in great trim to make a record flight of it. And even the breeze favors us, you notice."

"Let's hope it keeps on as it is," said Jack, quickly; "because an easterly wind will help carry us on our way to-night!"

"We'll be in luck to have such help," Tom replied. "As a rule, the passage from Europe to America meets with head winds most of the way. How are you fixed, Jack?"

"All ready here, Tom."

"Half a minute more, and I'll be the same. Take your last look for some time, Jack, at the American fighting front. We'll never forget what we've met with here, and that's a fact."

"But, Tom, we expect to come back again, if all goes well," expostulated Jack. "In fact, we've just got to, or be accused of running away. We arranged all that, you remember, and how we'd manage to get across in such a way that no one will be any the wiser for our having been out of France."

"Don't let's worry about that yet," said Tom. "The first big job is to get across the Atlantic. Ready, back there? Here goes!"

Another minute, and with a rush and a roar the plane sped along the field, took an upward slant, and set out for the coast. The first leg of the great flight had actually been started!

XIII. OFF FOR THE CHANNEL

"Tom, do you think that spy left behind by my cousin could have learned in any way about our plan?"

They were passing over a section of Northern France, keeping a mile and more above the surface of the earth, when Jack called out in this fashion. Talking is never easy aboard a working plane. The splutter of the motor, added to the noise caused by the spinning propellers, as well as the fact that as a rule pilot and observer keep well muffled up because of the chill in the rarified air, all combine to make it difficult.

But Jack was hard to repress. Especially just then did he feel as if he must find some answer to certain doubts which were beginning to oppress him.

"There's no way of telling," Tom answered promptly. "We've already seen that the fellow is a clever, as well as desperate, rascal. He may be an American, though I'm rather inclined to believe your cousin has found a native better suited to his needs. And such a treacherous Frenchman would prove a tricky and slippery sort. Yes, he may have overheard us say something that would put him wise to our big game."

"I hope not, I surely do," Jack continued, looking serious again. "Fact is, Tom, I'll never feel easy until we see the ocean under us."

At that Tom laughed heartily. He even put a little extra vim into his merriment in the hope of raising his chum's drooping spirits.

"That sounds mighty close to a joke, Jack, for a fact," he said.

"I'd like to know how you make that out?" demanded the other.

"Why, most people would be apt to say our troubles were likely to begin when we have cut loose from the land and see nothing below us as far as the eye can reach but the blue water of the Atlantic."

"All right," cried Jack, showing no sign of changing his mind. "I'll willingly take chances with nature rather than the perfidy and treachery of mankind. Somehow, I can't believe that we're really launched on the journey."

"Wake up then, old fellow, and shake yourself. You'll find we've made a pretty fair start. Already we've put thirty miles behind us. Unless we run up against some snag, and have engine trouble, we ought to get to the Channel long before dark sets in."

So Jack relapsed into silence for a time. As he was not needed in order to run the motor or guide the plane in its progress westward, Jack could amuse himself in using the powerful binoculars.

They were at the time far removed from the earth, but through the wonderful lenses of the glasses objects became fairly distinct. So Jack could see much to interest him as they sped onward. Finally he again broke out with an exclamation.

"Nothing but the ruins of towns and villages down below, Tom," he called. "The fighting has been fierce along this sector, I should say. Why, even the woods have been smashed, and it looks like a regular desert. Poor France, what you must have suffered at the hands of those savage Huns."

"Yes," replied the pilot, over his shoulder, "here is where much of the most desperate fighting of the British took place. Some of those ruined places were beautiful French towns only a few years ago, where laces and such things were made for most of the fashionable world. Now they look about like the ruins of Ninevah or Babylon."

Fortune favored them during the next hour, and even Jack's spirits had begun to improve. Then came a check to the sanguine nature of the outlook.

"Sorry to tell you, Jack," reported Tom, after some uneasy movements, which the other had noticed with growing alarm, "that we'll have to make a landing. After all, it's not going to be a non-stop flight to the coast. Only a little matter, but it should be looked after before it develops into serious trouble. I'm going to drop down to a lower level, where we can keep an eye out for a proper landing place."

"But that means time lost!"

"We can spare an hour if necessary, and still get to Dunkirk by evening," Tom replied cheerfully. "I was a bit suspicious of that very thing, and only for our desperate need of haste would have waited to start until it had been gone over again. But then I took chances, knowing it would, at the worst, mean only a stop for repairs. Sorry, but it can't be helped."

When the plane had reached a distance of a thousand feet above the earth, with Jack eagerly looking for a favorable landing place, the latter had managed to recover from his depression.

"I see what looks like a fine stretch, Tom," he now announced. "Notice that road looking as if it might be pitted with shell-holes? Just on its right, where that single tree trunk stands, there's a field as level as a barn floor. Circle around, and let's get closer to it."

Further examination convinced them that they had really run upon a suitable landing place. What pleased Tom still more was the fact that so far there had been no evidence of human presence near by.

This meant that they would not be bothered during the time required for overhauling the engine by curious spectators, who might even question their right to be flying away from the front.

The landing was made in good style, and with only a few bumps, thanks to the smooth character of the field's surface. Even Jack was compelled to admit that though they had met with trouble, matters might be much worse.

"We'll get busy now, and soon have things as fit as a fiddle," said Tom, throwing off some of his superfluous garments so as to be free to work.

By this time both boys had grown to be real experts in all sorts of mechanical repairing, as every airman must of necessity become before he can pass the acid test. Unlike the driver of a car on country roads, when a break-down occurs he cannot step to a neighboring house, use the long distance or local telephone, and summon help. The airman is usually compelled to depend exclusively on his own ability to overcome the difficulty.

To get at the seat of trouble necessitated considerable disarrangement of the motor's parts. This consumed more or less time, and the minutes passing were jealously given up by the impatient Jack.

But the boys worked fast, and finally all had been accomplished. Tom tested the engine, and pronounced himself satisfied, while Jack looked over the field ahead of them.

"It's going to take us to Dunkirk without any further trouble, I give you my word for it, Jack," he said. "How long have we been here?"

"Just one hour, lacking three minutes," came the prompt reply.

"Then I'm safe," laughed Tom; "for I said within the hour. Come, pile aboard and we'll be off. Sure you examined the ground ahead, and saw to it we'd hit no bumps that might give us trouble?"

"It's all right there, Tom; could hardly be better. But be sure you don't change from a straight course, because there's a nasty shell-hole, about ten feet deep, to the left. If we struck that—good-night!"

"I notice you marked it with that pole, Jack, and I'll swing clear, you can depend on that."

They had no difficulty in making a successful ascent. Once free from the ground, the plane's nose was again turned toward the southwest. Tom had long before marked out his course, and kept an eye on the compass as well as on his little chart.

He knew they were heading for the Channel port as straight as the crow flies. The sun was getting far down in the western sky, and it was now necessary to shield their eyes when looking ahead, on account of the dazzling glare that at times threatened to blind them.

The character of the country below had changed materially, Jack told the pilot, who seldom had a chance to look through the glasses, since his entire attention was taken up with manipulating the engine, watching its rhythmical working, and keeping the plane pushing directly on its course.

"Heine didn't get a chance to ruin things here when he passed through, going to Paris and to his smash on the Marne," Jack explained. "Towns and villages look natural, as I see them, and they must have harvested crops in those brown fields. This is a bit of the real France, and entirely different from the horrible desert we've been at work in so long."

The afternoon was wearing away. Jack frequently stared eagerly off to the west, when the sun's glowing face was veiled for a brief time by some friendly cloud. Several times he believed he could see something that looked like a stretch of water, but dared not voice his hopes.

Then came a time when a heavier cloud than usual masked the brightness of the declining sun. Another long earnest look and Jack burst out with a triumphant shout.

"Tom, I can see the Channel, as sure as you're born!" was the burden of his announcement; and of course this caused the pilot to demand that he too be given a chance to glimpse the doubly welcome sight.

There could not be any mistake about it. Tom corroborated what Jack had declared. It was undoubtedly the English Channel they saw, showing that their journey from the American front had been successfully accomplished.

"Now for Dunkirk!" jubilantly cried Jack, looking as though he had thrown off the weight of dull care, and was once more light-hearted. "And by the same token, Tom, unless I miss my guess, that may be the city we're heading for over yonder a little further to the south."

"Then I kept my course fairly well, you'll admit," the pilot shouted at him, naturally feeling conscious of a little pride over his achievement.

Rapidly they pushed on with a slight change of course. Jack kept using the glasses and reported his observations to the busily engaged pilot.

"It'll be dusk, likely, when we land," he observed at one time. "But that doesn't cut much figure, for we can easily find our way down to Beverly's hangar on the coast. He said it was only a few miles from town, and they'll know at the aviation field, of course."

"He gave us the name of a British officer who would post us," added Tom.

After a bit they were passing over the outskirts of Dunkirk, and making for what appeared to be an aviation field, since they could see various hangars, and another plane was just settling ahead of them.

Ten minutes passed, and Jack was delighted to find that they had made a successful landing. A number of French and British aviation men hastened to surround them, more than curious to know what strange chance had brought two Yankee fliers to Dunkirk.

Of course neither Tom nor Jack meant to afford them the least satisfaction. They had certain business to transact, and after that was off their hands the great adventure loomed beyond.

Accordingly, their first act was to find the man to whom they had been referred by Lieutenant Beverly.

"We want to see Major Denning; can anybody direct us to him?" Tom asked.

"That happens to be my name," remarked a red-faced officer on the outskirts of the crowd and who had just arrived. "What can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant Colin Beverly of the American aviation corps referred us to you, Major," said Tom. "We have a message for you, after which we must deliver an official packet sent by our general to the command here and make arrangements to have our plane sent back to where we started from some hours ago, on the American fighting front."

"I shall be pleased to give you any assistance in my power, gentlemen," said the British major, being apparently a very agreeable and accommodating man indeed, as Beverly had informed them they would find him.

Stepping away from the crowd the Air Service Boys delivered their message, which was really a sort of prearranged password.

"Lieutenant Beverly is a cousin of mine, you know; which makes me more than anxious concerning him just now," went on Major Denning, after these formalities had been gone through with.

"Why so, Major?" demanded Tom, while Jack looked worried.

Whereupon the red-faced major drew them still further to one side, and, lowering his heavy voice so as not to be overheard by others, went on to say:

"I, as you know, know something about that wonderful big bomber he's had sent over, and how he means to give Berlin a scare shortly. I've even had the privilege of looking the monster over, and feeling a thrill at picturing how it would give the Huns a fright when it appeared over Berlin. But you see its presence here is a secret, and known to but few of us."

"Glad to hear it, Major," Tom remarked. "But please explain why you are worried about Beverly."

"That is," continued the officer, "because an explosion was heard, coming from the south, just a short time ago. Everybody believes it must be the airdrome sheltering the dirigible Britain sent over here for use, and which lies further down the coast. But, much as I hate to say it, I fear something serious has happened to Beverly's hangar; in fact that a bomb has destroyed it, or else some rank Hun treachery has been at work there!"

XIV. READY FOR THE START

"Just our beastly luck!" gasped Jack, turning white with apprehension.

"Wait, we haven't any proof as yet," advised Tom. "The Major himself admits that he's only afraid it may have been Beverly's hangar. Hasn't anything been done to learn the truth, sir?"

"Oh, yes," came the quick reply. "A number of cars have gone down that way, but the road's in a shocking condition, and up to now none of them has returned to advise us. I'd be very sorry if it turned out as I fear, doubly so if Beverly himself were injured or killed, because I'm fond of the chap, don't you know."

"Let's hope everything is all right," said Tom, as composedly as possible. "And first of all I'd like to get through the business part of our errand here. I have the packet to deliver for our general. Then the machine must be turned over to a representative of our Government here. After all that's attended to we'll strike out for the Beverly hangar."

"I'll be pleased to take you there personally, if you like," remarked Major Denning.

"And we'll accept your offer with thanks, sir. It is very kind of you," said Tom, at the same time wondering what the other would say when he made the astounding discovery that the object of the expedition was even more ambitious than a mere flight to Berlin and back; that indeed the daring adventurers meant to attempt a record voyage across the Atlantic by air such as would vie with that of Columbus.

Jack fell into a fever of suspense again, and counted the minutes that must be consumed in carrying out the business in hand. Tom was exceedingly scrupulous concerning this.

"The general was kind enough to give us a good push on our way here," he told Jack, when the latter continued to fret and hint about "cutting off corners" in order to hasten their getting away. "We're bound to do our part of the job right up to the handle. Besides, what do ten or twenty minutes amount to?"

When Tom announced himself satisfied night had settled on the land. Dunkirk had for long been annoyed by the fire of a long-range monster gun, shells dropping into the city at stated intervals for weeks at a time.

So, too, hostile airplanes had hovered over the Channel port, trying to make it unpleasant for the British Tommies in camp near by. But since Marshal Foch opened operations on a large scale, together with the furious drive of General Pershing's army, this had altogether ceased.

Major Denning had a car at their disposal.

"It will take us to a place where we can leave the road and follow a path to the beach," he told them. "Beverly has quite a force of men there looking after things, which fact makes me hope nothing could have happened to injure or destroy that wonderful bomber. But we've been pestered to death with Hun bounders playing spy, and I'd put nothing past them."

They set out, and were soon on the way. Major Denning had a man at the wheel, evidently his chauffeur, for he was a British private. He knew the road, and managed to steer clear of the obstructions that continually cropped up.

"Seems to me those Hun pilots must have dropped most of their bombs out this way, instead of hitting the town or the camps," Tom suggested, as they dodged to and fro, and often suffered severe bouncings.

"No man-power to make any road repairs, in the bargain," explained the officer. "Since the drive has been on we are sending every British battalion we can muster forward. These things can wait until the German is licked, which we all believe is coming shortly, with Marshall Haig and General Pershing and General Petain on the job."

"Wow! what's that mean?" cried Jack, half jumping up as the sound of several shots not far away came distinctly to their ears.

"Did those shots seem to be over yonder to the right?" asked the major.

"So far as I was able to judge that's where they came from," Tom replied. "Does the hangar lie in that quarter, sir?"

"Just what it does! There's certainly something strange going on around there to-night. But we'll quickly learn for ourselves, because the spot where we leave the road is just ahead of us."

Jack was the first out; indeed the car had not wholly come to a stand before he made a flying jump. Leaving the chauffeur to watch the car, the major soon found the trail. He carried a small hand electric torch with him, a vest-pocket size, but at least with a ray sufficiently strong to dissipate the gloom under the brush and to show them what seemed to be a well defined trail.

"We may find ourselves made a target by some of his wideawake guards. That they are on the alert those shots we heard a bit ago seem to testify," suggested Major Denning.

"Oh, we'll use the signal whistle; and I feel sure Lieutenant Beverly himself will be listening to catch it, for he expects us any minute now."

"We're getting close enough just now to exercise due caution, at any rate," the guide answered in a whisper.

Taking the hint, Tom commenced giving the signal. It was a short sharp whistle, four times repeated. Hardly had Tom sounded this than they heard an answer.

"Fine!" exclaimed Jack. "He's here on deck, and perhaps everything may be all right yet."

They continued along the path, and Tom repeated his whistling. Finally the figure of a man loomed up beyond.

"That you, Tom, Jack?" came a voice.

"Hello, Beverly!" Jack burst out impulsively. "We've come all the way by air. What's going on around here; nothing serious happened, I hope?"

"Rest easy on that score, boys," the other replied, still advancing.

"Then the machine is still ready for business, is it?" cried Jack.

"In apple-pie order, down to the last drop of juice, and ready to do the builders proud. But I'm mighty glad to see you, boys, I surely am. Afraid there'd be some hitch at the last minute from your end."

"And," said Tom, wringing the other's hand, "Jack has been picturing all sorts of terrible things happening to you and the plane here, near Dunkirk. He's as happy as a clam at high tide right now, I assure you."

"You bet I am!" Jack cried explosively, gripping the fingers of the lieutenant with great enthusiasm.

"Why, hello! who's this but my English cousin, Major Denning?" cried Beverly, discovering that his two chums were not alone.

"Thought it best to steer them to you, and take no chances of a miss," explained the officer. "Besides, to tell you the truth, I fancied seeing you start off on your long contemplated trip to wake up Berlin. Once I was in hopes I might even have the opportunity of accompanying you. I've a score to settle with the beast for knocking a hole in my London house and frightening my aunt almost into fits. At least you'll let me wish you bon voyage, Beverly."

Tom said nothing. He realized that the major had no inkling of the real purpose of the flight about to be undertaken; and if he was to be told the facts the information must come from Lieutenant Beverly himself.

"Oh! By the way, that Berlin trip will have to wait," chuckled the lieutenant, making up his mind that a clean breast of the whole matter must follow. "Fact is, Major, we're after larger game than that would prove to be; something calculated to stagger you a bit, I think."

"You're certainly puzzling me by what you say, Colin," declared the major, betraying a growing curiosity in voice and manner. "I'd like to know for a fact what you could call larger game than a non-stop flight to Berlin and back, starting from the Channel here. Are you planning a trip to the moon, after Jules Verne's yarn?"

"No. But something that has as yet never been attempted," came the steady reply. "It is a flight across the Atlantic to America in the big bomber plane, and starting this very night!"

XV. THE LONG FLIGHT BEGUN

Major Denning was greatly astonished when Lieutenant Beverly made so astounding an assertion.

"Well, I wouldn't put anything past you Yankees," he presently remarked, with a dry chuckle. "But this is something of a Herculean task you're planning, Colin. A flight of over three thousand miles is a greater undertaking than any plane has so far been able to carry through. And if you should meet with trouble, the jig is up with you all!"

"We understand what we're up against, I assure you," Tom replied. "The plan is entirely Lieutenant Beverly's, sir. Sergeant Parmly has reason to get home before the La Bretagne reaches New York harbor, and she's already three days out. Learning this, our good friend here made a thrilling proposition, which we eagerly accepted. That's the story in a nutshell, Major Denning."

"I must say I admire your nerve, that's all," exploded the other, shaking hands with all of them. "Just the type of chap I'd like to tie up with. My word! if I could get leave, and there was room for one more aboard the big bomber, I'd beg of you to take me in. But I wish you every luck in the wide world. My word, fancy the nerve of it!"

"We must remember not to speak a word so that any of the men can guess what our real destination is," Beverly cautioned, as they continued along the path. "Only my right-hand agent here knows the truth, and he means to keep it dark."

"But they must suspect something unusual," suggested Tom.

"It's hinted that we are aiming at Berlin, don't you know?" pursued the lieutenant, chuckling. "But believe me, the game is a bigger one than just that little jaunt, far bigger in fact."

Presently they came to the shore where the stout hangar was found, partly hidden under the branches of low trees and shrubbery. Before them lay the sandy stretch of beach hard as a dancing floor, and well fitted to be their "jumping off" place.

Tom bent down to feel it, after the manner of an experienced air pilot.

"Couldn't be bettered much, could it, Tom?" demanded Lieutenant Beverly confidently.

"I should say not!" was the quick response.

Jack was feeling quite joyous since the outlook for starting on the anticipated flight had become so bright. At the same time he told himself he would not entirely lose that tense sensation around the region of his heart until they were actually off.

Around the hangar they found a cordon of several armed men; a fact which caused Tom to remember that they shortly before had heard the report of firearms, and as yet had failed to learn the cause. Then again there was that explosion down the coast. He turned to Lieutenant Beverly for an explanation.

"We too heard the sound of an explosion," Beverly told him in reply. "It came from further down the shore. There's some sort of British airdrome in that quarter, I'm informed; and possibly they had an accident there. As for the shooting, that's easily explained. My men were the cause."

"Spies hanging around, probably?" hazarded the major, in disgust. "We've been bothered with the slick beasts right along—shot several, but even that didn't keep the coast clear."

"There have been skulkers around for some time," continued the lieutenant. "Baxter tells me he'd warned them off until he grew tired, and threatened that the next one who was caught trying to peep would be fired upon. So to-night when a sentry reported suspicious movements in the brush we sent in a few shots, more to give them a scare than to do any damage."

"Have they tried to injure your plane, Colin?" asked the major.

"I understand that once my men discovered a fire had been started in a mysterious way, which they succeeded in putting out. Only for prompt work it would have at least disabled the bomber so that its usefulness for the present would be nil."

"The ways of those German spies are past finding out," complained Major Denning. "They seem to take a page from Indian tactics, and resort to all species of savage warfare. It wouldn't surprise me if you found they had shot an arrow with a blazing wad of saturated cotton fastened to its head, and used your hangar as a target. History tells us your redskins used to do something like that in the days of the early colonies."

Shortly afterwards the monster bombing plane was wheeled out of its hangar, and became an object of vast interest to the two Air Service Boys.

Tom and Jack were of course familiar with its working, but needed a few hints from Lieutenant Beverly with respect to certain new features that it possessed.

"What do you think of it, boys?" was the natural question asked by the intrepid flight commander, who of course meant to do his share of the handling of the giant plane during its long flight.

"A jim-dandy! That's what!" exclaimed the delighted Jack, almost awed by the tremendous size of the up-to-date machine, with its wonderful expanse of planes and its monster body in which the vast amount of stores, as well as surplus gasoline, could be stowed.

"I'm confident we'll have more than a fighting chance to reach the objective we have in view," Tom in his turn remarked; and even though the men standing near must have heard what he said they could not possibly suspect the truth that lay back of his words.

"Everything has been looked after, and right now there's not a single item lacking," Lieutenant Beverly assured them. "Mention what you please, and I defy you to find I've overlooked it. I notice that you have brought your glasses along, Jack. I have a fine pair with me, but we can doubtless use both."

"And on my part," added Tom, "I thought it wise to carry a few small knickknacks that I've become attached to. They ought to share my fortunes. If I cash in, my reliable old compass here, for instance, wouldn't be valued highly by any one else; but it's saved my life more than a few times."

"And may again," said Jack softly; "for those fogs are simply dreadful, if half that's said about them turns out to be true."

Tom was stooping down and feeling the firm sandy beach.

"A splendid place to make our start, Lieutenant," he remarked.

"I selected it with that idea in view," explained the other. "Besides, in a long trip, like the run to Berlin, this would be as desirable a station as any. What do you think of the plane, Tom?"

"As well as I can see it, I am satisfied it will be all you told us," Tom answered him, while Jack added:

"Same here."

Certainly, as seen spread out on the almost level stretch of hard sand the monster bombing plane did have a powerful appearance that must favorably impress any experienced pilot. Tom and Jack had noted several things about it calculated to inspire confidence. They were taking tremendous risks, of course, but then that was nothing novel in their lives as aviators.

"Is there anything to delay us further?" asked Jack naively, feeling that even minutes might count when the issue was so plainly outlined.

"I do not know of the slightest reason," admitted Lieutenant Beverly, moving toward the bombing plane and followed by his two comrades. "And that being the case, let's get aboard. Anything like a written message you would like to leave behind, to be sent in case we are never heard from again, boys? You can give it to my cousin, the major here, who will attend to it."

Both Tom and Jack had thought of this long before, and each had prepared a simple statement which would explain their fate in case they met with disaster on the flight. These sealed and directed envelopes they now handed to Major Denning.

"Depend on me to hold them until all doubt is past," he told them, as he warmly pressed a hand of each.

Then Lieutenant Beverly gave the word to his men, and immediately the hum of the giant motors announced that they were off on their amazing trip to span the Atlantic, as it had never been done before, by way of the air!

XVI. THE FIRST NIGHT OUT

It was with a strange feeling of exhilaration that Tom and Jack realized the fact that at last they were embarked on a flight that would either bring about their death or, if successful, make a record in long distance non-stop travel in a heavier-than-air machine.

The cheers of the men on the beach had been drowned in the roar of the powerful motors and twin propellers when they left the land and commenced to sweep upward in a graceful curve.

Both boys looked down to catch the last glimpse of France, the land so closely associated with liberty in the minds of all true Americans. It was in her cause two million young Yankees were at that very hour facing the Boche in a determined effort to chase him back over the Rhine and force a stern settlement for all the devastation his armies had wrought.

Quickly did the darkness blot out all trace of land. Back some little distance, it was true, they could still glimpse feeble lights, marking the location of Dunkirk. The French no longer feared to illuminate to a limited extent since bombing planes no longer came raiding at night, nor did that unseen monster Krupp cannon deliver its regular messages of bursting shells.

Below them lay the English Channel, and Lieutenant Beverly had so shaped the course that as they rose higher and higher they were heading directly across, with the eastern shore of England close enough to have afforded them a view of the land had it not been night-time.

They had discussed all this many times, and settled on what seemed the most feasible route. Of course, it might have been a much shorter distance had they decided to head almost south-west-by-south, making for the Azores, and stopping there to prepare for another flight across to Newfoundland. Going that way, they would have had the benefit of the general easterly winds. But this did not appeal to Tom and Jack for several good reasons. In the first place, it meant that a landing at the Azores would be reckoned of such importance that it must be heralded far and near. This was apt to get them into trouble with the military authorities, since they had received no bona fide permission to leave the soil of France; at least, to return to America.

Then again Jack was opposed to the plan for the reason that if they should land at the extreme point of Newfoundland considerable delay must be caused by the difficulty of getting transportation to the States. All the while Randolph Carringford would be steadily moving on, and, landing at New York, have an advantage over Jack.

There was also a third reason that influenced the young navigators in deciding to take the longer course across the Atlantic. This concerned the fogs such as can always be met with off the Newfoundland Banks, and which are often so dense that vessels flounder through them for several days at a stretch.

By taking the southern course, and steering direct for the Virginia shore they would be likely to miss much of this trouble, even though it was a time of year when heavy mists hang along the entire Atlantic seaboard.

All of them were silent for some little time, only the roar of the motor and the propellers beating in their ears. Beverly had established a method of communication when in flight without unduly straining the voice. It was very similar to a wireless telephone outfit which Tom and Jack had employed not long back, and by the use of which they could actually talk with an operator similarly equipped, even if standing on the earth a mile below their plane.

It was arranged for all three of them, and could be removed from the head when no communication was desired. In the beginning they were not in the mood to make use of this contrivance, which, however, would undoubtedly be welcome later on, when they would be passing over the apparently limitless sea and the monotony had begun to wear upon their nerves. Then conversation might relieve the tension.

It was Jack who presently called out:

"I can see lights below us. Do you think we've crossed the Channel, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, that's the English shore, and doubtless Dover lies directly below us, although we're at such a height that it's impossible to make sure."

"What's the idea of keeping so high, Lieutenant?" continued Jack.

"Simply to avoid collision with any of the coast guard fliers, who might take us for Huns meaning to attack London again after a long break. But Jack, I'm going to ask a favor of you."

"Go to it then!" called out the other, who was plainly "on edge" with excitement over the wonderful fact that they were at last on their way.

"Drop that formality from this time on," said Beverly earnestly. "Forget that I happen to rank you, for I'm sure your commissions are only delayed in the coming. From now on let it be either plain Colin, or if you prefer, Beverly. We're three chums in a boat—a ship of the air, to be exact—and all ranking on a level. You'll agree to that, won't you, Jack?"

"You bet I will, Colin, and it's just like you to propose it!" cried the pleased Jack.

After that they fell silent again, though now and then Jack, who was making good use of the night-glasses, announced that they seemed to be passing over some city.

Tom had studied their intended course so thoroughly that he was able to tell with more or less accuracy what some of those places were. In so doing he always kept in mind the probable speed at which the big plane was traveling.

They had veered a little, and would not come anywhere near Liverpool or Dublin, as Jack had suspected might be the case until he looked over the chart Tom had marked. On the contrary, their new course would carry them over the south of England, and just cut across the lower part of Ireland; indeed, the latter might have been skipped entirely with profit to themselves in miles gained, only it seemed natural they should want to keep in touch with land just as long as possible.

How steadily the giant plane moved majestically through the realms of space several miles above the earth! Tom found himself fascinated by the working of the motors from the very minute he first heard them take up their steady labor. Surely, if the feat were at all within the bounds of possibilities, they had, as Lieutenant Beverly said, "a fighting chance."

Of course there was always impending danger. Any one of a score of accidents was liable to happen, especially after the engines had been constantly working hour after hour.

Such things may bother an aviator when over the enemy's country, because if a landing seems necessary in order to avoid a fatal drop, there must always arise the risk of capture. How much more serious would even the smallest engine trouble become, once they were far out over the ocean with nothing in sight as far as the eye could reach save an endless vastness of rolling waters beneath, and passing clouds overhead?

Tom, however, would not allow himself to brood upon these possibilities, and when they flashed across his mind he persistently banished them. Sufficient to the day was the evil thereof; and if difficulties arose they must meet them bravely, doing the best they could, and accepting the results in the spirit of Columbus, who was the pioneer in spanning the Atlantic.

Jack now made a discovery that caused him to call out again.

"I believe we've left the land again, and it's water down under us right now, fellows!" he called shrilly, his voice sounding above the clamor by which they were continually surrounded.

"Well, according to my calculations," said Tom, "we should be about quit of England and striking the Irish Sea at its junction with the Atlantic. It's that you believe you see right now."

"Then before long we'll glimpse Ireland's lights!" cried the exultant Jack. "Though we're likely to pass over only the city of Cork as we dash on for the big sea beyond. So far everything is moving like grease, Lieu—Colin."

"I promised you it would," the pilot told him. "And let's hope it keeps up this way all the way through."

Again they ceased trying to talk since it proved such an effort without resorting to the little wireless telephone arrangement. Jack did notify them, however, when he believed he sighted tiny specks far below that he took for the lights of some place of consequence; but Tom, who knew better, assured him he must be mistaken.

"You're straining your eyes so much you mistake other things for lights, Jack," he told the observer. "It might even be the reflection of the stars on the glasses of your binoculars. We're not near Cork yet, and there's no other place worth mentioning that we'll come near. Rest up, Jack."

"Plenty of time for that after we've struck out over the ocean," came Jack's defiant answer.

Later on he again declared he saw lights. They had been speeding for some hours at a rate of more than sixty miles, which was good time for one of those monster heavily laden bombers to make.

"Yes, I imagine it's Cork this time," said Tom, when appealed to. "We veer to the left here, and pass out to sea over Queenstown, don't we, Colin?"

"According to our mapped-out plan that's the course," came the reply, as the pilot shifted his levers, and headed a little more toward the south.

Their sensations at that particular time were very acute. It was as if they had reached the dividing line, and were about to enter upon a course that would admit of no turning back.

"There, the last glimmer of light has disappeared!" finally cried Jack in an awed tone, "and we're heading out over the Atlantic, bound for America!"

XVII. WHEN THE SUBMARINE STRUCK

It was long past midnight.

In fact, the aviators could expect to see dawn break before a great while. When that event came about they knew what an appalling spectacle must greet their wondering eyes. Above, the boundless expanse of blue sky, with fleecy little white clouds passing here and there, looking like islands in a sea of azure; below, an unending sea of tossing waves, with perhaps not even a fishing vessel in sight.

Jack fell asleep, being utterly tired out. Tom too caught what he called little "cat-naps" from time to time. Beverly stuck faithfully to his post, for not a wink of sleep could come to one in whose hands the destinies of the whole expedition lay.

So the minutes passed, bringing them ever nearer the breaking of another day. The immensity of their undertaking no longer appalled them. It was too late for consideration anyway, since they were now fully launched upon the flight, and turning back was not to be thought of.

Jack, waking out of a nap, looked down, and immediately uttered a loud cry.

"Why, it's getting daylight, and you can glimpse the ocean! How queer it looks, fellows, to be sure! Is everything going well, Colin?"

"Couldn't be improved on," he was assured by the faithful pilot.

"First I must use the glasses to see how it looks at closer range," Jack continued. "Then I think we ought to have breakfast. This cold air makes a fellow as hungry as a wolf. I think I must have lost myself for a bit."

Tom did not say anything, only smiled, but he knew that the other had enjoyed at least a full hour of sleep.

"How far are we from land, Tom, would you say?" next asked the observer, while he was adjusting the glasses to his eyes.

"Possibly a hundred and fifty miles, perhaps nearer two hundred," Tom assured him, in a matter-of-fact tone, as though that was only what might be expected.

"Hello! I can see a vessel already, and heading into the west!" declared Jack. "Of course I can't make out what she's like, though I bet you her hull and funnels are camouflaged to beat the band, so as to fool those Hun submarine pirates with the stripes of black and white. You don't think it's possible that could be the La Bretagne, Tom?"

"Well, hardly," came the quick reply, "unless something happened to detain the French steamer after she left Havre days ago. She ought to be a whole lot further along than this boat is. She must be some small liner from Liverpool or Southampton, making for Halifax or New York."

Jack presently tired of staring at the little speck far down below.

"I wonder if they can see us with a glass," he next observed, as Tom began to hand out bread and butter, with hard-boiled eggs or ham between, and some warm coffee kept in Thermos bottles so as to take the chill of the high altitudes out of their bodies.

"Not a chance in a hundred," Beverly assured him. "Besides, those aboard the steamer are devoting all their efforts to watching for enemies in the water, and not among the clouds."

They munched their breakfast and enjoyed it immensely. Indeed it seemed as though they devoured twice as much as upon ordinary occasions.

"Lucky we laid in plenty of grub!" Jack declared, when finally all of them announced that they were satisfied. "This Atlantic air makes one keep hungry all the time. Now I can see that steamer plainly, for we've dropped a little lower. Oh! What can that mean?"

His voice had a ring of sudden alarm about it that instantly aroused Tom's curiosity. Even Lieutenant Beverly looked over his shoulder as though he, too, felt a desire to learn more.

"They seem to be firing guns!" continued Jack presently. "Of course we're far too high to hear the sound, but I can see the smoke as sure as I'm sitting here. Can it be they're being attacked by a Hun undersea boat, do you think, boys?"

"Such things keep on happening right along in these shark-infested waters," replied Tom. "Go on and tell us all you see, Jack!"

They were all of them thrilled by the consciousness that possibly a grim tragedy of the sea was being enacted directly beneath, without any likelihood of their being able to render succor to those who might soon be in distress.

"They keep on firing," Jack continued. "I can see each puff of smoke belch out. There, something has happened! I believe it was a torpedo that exploded against the hull of the steamer, for I saw a great blotch rise up, and men are running about the decks like mad!"

Beverly had almost automatically decreased their speed, as though inclined to hover above the ill-fated vessel as long as possible, at least to learn what followed.

"They seem to be making signals!" Jack presently cried out.

"Look around and see if you can glimpse anything coming on!" demanded Tom, as though suspecting the cause of this fresh announcement.

Hardly had the one who gripped the binoculars started to do as he was requested than he gave a cry of mingled relief and satisfaction.

"Two boats racing straight for the spot, boys! Destroyers, too! Like as not Americans, for they keep lying out here, you know, to protect our transports going over with the boys. How they do cut through the water with their sharp bows and make the waves fly! But that steamer looks as if she might be sinking right now!"

The excitement grew intense. Beverly even started to circle around, content to lose a few miles and some minutes if only he could satisfy their minds that all was well with the unfortunate steamer that had been so ruthlessly torpedoed without warning by the undersea pirates.

"They're coming up like fun!" cried Jack presently. "I can't see as well as I'd like, though, on account of the sea fog that keeps drifting along in patches like clouds. I really believe they'll get up before she founders. Now the crew have started putting off boats to make sure of saving the passengers if the worst comes!"

"Which shows they have a capable captain aboard," commented Tom.

"But the sea must be pretty rough," continued Jack, "because the small boats toss and pitch sharply as they start away from the steamer. Hang that fog, it's going to shut the whole picture out soon. But there, one of the destroyers has arrived, and the boats are heading straight on to it."

A minute later Jack gave them another little batch of news.

"The other destroyer is circling around, and must be looking for signs of the sub. Wow! that was a terrible waterspout, though. And there goes a second one!"

"They're dropping depth bombs, intending to get the slinker!" announced Beverly jubilantly.

"Here's hoping they do then!" cried Jack, and immediately afterwards added: "But it's all over for us, boys, because the fog's shut it off completely. Might as well get along on our way; but I'm happy to know those Yankee boats came up in time to save everybody aboard the steamer. What a bully view we had of the performance!"

"It's such things that are apt to break the monotony and routine of a long flight like the one we've undertaken," remarked Tom. "In time, of course, the dash across the Atlantic will become quite common; and those who make it are apt to see wonderful sights."

"Two hundred miles out," Jack was saying to himself as he sat there still holding the glasses in his hand, though not attempting to make use of them, and his eyes ranged longingly toward the western horizon where the blue of the sky touched the dark green of the boundless sea, all his thoughts centered on the goal that lay far distant across that vast waste of tumbling waters.

So as the sun started to climb in the eastern heavens the flight of the big bombing plane carrying the trio of adventurous ones was continued, every mile left behind bringing them that much nearer their destination, with the future still an unsolved problem.

XVIII. THE COLD HAND OF FEAR

Noon came and went, with the same steady progress being maintained hour after hour. Tom relieved Beverly at the pilot's berth, and the latter succeeded in getting some much needed rest. Still, none of them could sleep comfortably, which was hardly to be wondered at considering their strange surroundings.

"My first nap when flying, for a fact!" admitted Colin, after he had awakened, and managed to stretch his stiffened limbs.

"Tough work trying to get a few winks of sleep when one is quivering all over with excitement," Jack remarked.

They were no longer maintaining such a high course, having descended until the heaving sea lay not more than a thousand feet below. Nothing was in sight in any direction, which was one reason for Tom's dropping down as he did.

"A lot of water," Jack commented, for they had started to try out the wonderful little wireless telephone, to find that it really worked splendidly. "Guess after the flood Noah must have thought that way too. But shucks! we haven't got even a dove to send out."

"We happen to have something better," Tom told him, "which is the power to shoot our boat through space at the rate of a mile a minute. No ark business about this craft."

"Well, is there any objection to breaking our fast again?" the other inquired, changing the subject.

Beverly seemed to think not, for he proceeded to get out the hamper in which much of their prepared food was contained.

"I laid in double the quantity I expected we'd devour," he told them, "and then added something to that for good measure. No telling what may crop up; and if we happen to be cast on a desert island a healthy lot of grub might come in handy."

"It does right now, when we are far from any island, unless that's one up there in that dark cloud floating above us," and Jack stretched out to receive his portion of the lunch as parceled out by Colin.

"One thing that made me drop to a lower level," explained Tom, "was the fact of its being so cold up there among the clouds. Already I feel better for the change."

"How about it if we should sight a steamer?" asked Jack. "They'd report meeting a plane flying west here in midocean, which would stir up no end of comment in the papers, and might lead to our being found out."

"We depend on you to keep the glasses in use, and report anything in sight ahead," laughed Tom; for the clatter of the motors did not seem to bother them in the least when using the wireless telephone. "And when you sing out 'smoke down low on the horizon to the west!' it's going to be an easy job for us to climb up above the clouds in a hurry."

So it was settled, and they ate their lunch in comfort.

Up to that time not the slightest thing had arisen to give them concern with regard to the working of the engines. These aroused the admiration of the three voyagers by their remarkable performance. Tom declared their equal had never been installed in any plane that was ever built, and Lieutenant Beverly's eyes glowed with satisfaction to hear his pet praised so cordially by one whose good opinion he valued as highly as he did Tom Raymond's.

After Jack had taken his turn at piloting the machine, he amused himself "between naps" by watching the surface of the sea through the binoculars.

"No telling but what I may glimpse a submarine creeping along under the surface," he told the others jokingly. "Then wouldn't we wish we'd brought along a few bombs—the kind they dropped on that Hun bridge the night we went with the raiders. Right now I could almost imagine that shark's dorsal-fin was a periscope belonging to an undersea boat."

Other things came along to cause momentary interest, among them rolling porpoises that rose in sight, and then vanished under the waves, though from their height the boys could easily follow their movements.

Jack was getting a good deal of enjoyment out of the situation, and Tom was glad to notice this fact. He had feared his chum's nerves might give way under the long-continued strain; but apparently Jack had returned to his ordinary condition.

All of them rather dreaded the coming of night. Flying in midocean while daylight lasted was serious enough, but with darkness around for many hours, the situation must awaken new anxieties.

But their hearts were still apparently undaunted. The success that had rewarded their bold starting out gave abundant promise of still better things ahead. Tom resolutely refused to allow himself to have any fear. What if two thousand miles still lay between them and the goal of their hopes? Was not the miracle-worker of a monster plane doing remarkably fine work, and should they not continue to believe the end justified the means?

So they watched the sun dropping lower and lower in the western sky without any one voicing the thought that must have been in each mind. The same inscrutable Providence that had watched over them by day would still guard them when the light was gone. Under the stars, seeming now so much nearer and brighter than when ashore, they went on and on, until back in the east another day dawned, the great day of hope for them!

Jack had taken to looking eagerly ahead once more.

"What do you think you see?" Beverly asked him, for Tom again served as pilot at the steering gear.

"Why, I'm all mixed up about it," came the slow reply. "It certainly isn't a steamer, and again it just can't be land!"

"Well, hardly," Beverly answered. "To tell the honest truth I don't believe there's a foot of land closer to us than the Bermudas, which must lie off in that direction," pointing further toward the southwest.

"When the sun glints on it I'm fairly dazzled," Jack continued, "just as if some one had used a piece of broken looking-glass to shoot the rays into my eyes. And then there's a sort of queer mist hanging about that thing in the bargain, so that sometimes it's almost blotted out. What under the sun can it be?"

"I think I can give a guess," Tom called back. "How would an iceberg fill the bill, Colin?"

"Just the thing, I'd say," the lieutenant answered, "only who ever heard of an iceberg floating down in mid-Atlantic at this season of the year? Such a thing would be uncommon, to say the least."

"But not impossible?" ventured Tom, to which the other agreed.

"Take a look, and tell us, Colin," urged Jack, offering the glasses.

A minute afterwards they were handed bade again.

"Just what it is, Tom, after all," reported Beverly. "A pretty tall berg it seems to be, with an extensive ice-floe around it as level in spots as a floor. I thought I saw something move on it that might be a Polar bear, caught when the berg broke away from its Arctic glacier. We will pass directly over, and may be able to feel the chill."

"It was the Titanic, wasn't it, that bumped into an iceberg, and went down with such a frightful loss of life?" remarked Jack.

"No other," replied Tom. "But we'll try to make sure nothing like that happens to our frail craft. Try to guess what would happen to that monster berg if we hit head on?"

"Hardly a crack!" Jack retorted. "But I'm more interested in wondering what would become of us. Guess we'd better keep a good thousand feet up, and not bother trying to pry into the ice-floe's secrets."

"I'm not dreaming of dropping a foot lower just at present," Tom said decisively; and not one of them dreamed how soon that decision would have to be reversed, since all still looked fair about them, with no storm in sight and the wonderful motors kept up their regular pulsations as if capable of going on forever.

Yet strange vicissitudes and changes are the portion of those who follow the sea; which may also be applied to other voyagers of space, the sailors of the air. One minute all seems fair, with the sun shining; another, and a white squall is dashing down upon the ship, to catch the crew unawares and perhaps smother them with its mighty foam-crested billows.

It was not half an hour later when something happened that was calculated to chill the hearts of those bold navigators, such as even close contact to the ice-floe and berg could never bring about.

At the time they had reached a point almost above the field of ice from the Arctic regions, and Jack was scrutinizing its full extent, commenting the while on many peculiar features that attracted his attention.

"It's a Polar bear, all right, fellows," he announced, "and believe me he's some size in the bargain. If I had a rifle along I wouldn't mind dropping down there and rustling him. But what ails you, Tom? You seem bothered about something. Gee! you're as white as a ghost!"

Lieutenant Beverly leaned forward and clutched the pilot's arm.

"Anything gone wrong with the motors, Tom?" he demanded hoarsely.

"I've just made a terrible discovery," replied Tom, trying to control himself. "The worst has happened, and I'm afraid we're in for a bad time!"

XIX. A DESPERATE CHANCE

"Tell us the worst, Tom!" cried Beverly hoarsely.

Jack tried to echo the words, but his tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth. He knew his chum well enough to feel assured that no ordinary hovering peril could cause the other to look so ashen pale. It must be a frightful catastrophe by which they were threatened, Jack realized.

"The feed pipe! It must be choking up! Latterly I've more than suspected the motors were doing poorer work than before!"

The others understood. Under ordinary conditions they would decide on dropping to the ground for repairs; a task that might be carried out in a brief time, or consume hours, everything depending on the condition in which they found things.

But how utterly impossible to dream of doing anything like that now! Jack looked down to where, in the declining light of the sun, he could see that limitless sea of billowy water. How different indeed all might be were their airship a seaplane, capable of floating on the surface of the water and making a successful launch from it, just as a gull would do.

"I'll take a look, Tom!" Lieutenant Beverly called out. "Not that I doubt what you say, but all of us will have to put our heads together; we shall need all our wits if what you fear proves to be a fact."

Tom was more than willing, in fact he would have himself insisted on the lieutenant or Jack doing this very thing. Pilots differ in plenty of ways; and, as Beverly had said, one might hit on an answer to the problem that had entirely escaped the others.

Jack said not a word, but almost held his breath while Beverly was making his eager examination. The plane was not more than a thousand feet above the sea at most, and going very slowly now.

A short time elapsed. Then Beverly completed his task. The flight lieutenant looked more serious than ever, which told the story even before he uttered a single word.

Apparently the worst had come, and they were up against a question on the answer to which everything, even life itself, depended.

"I'm sorry to say it's a positive fact, boys!" called out Beverly, and as both the others were straining their ears to catch what he said, they had no difficulty in hearing every word.

"It's the supply pipe clogging then?" Tom asked.

"Yes," came the quick answer. "And while under some conditions I've been able to get along for a short time without dropping down, as a rule I've found it wise to look for a landing-place before things got to the point of desperation and avoid a fall, possibly in the midst of a German battalion."

"No chance of our getting at it while afloat, is there?" Jack asked, although he knew what Beverly was bound to say.

"Not the slightest," the other shot back. "It might keep going for something like an hour, and then shut off the gas entirely. Of course there's always a possibility of a miracle happening, such as the obstruction being suddenly overcome; but I'm afraid that's one chance in a million."

"But can't something be done, boys? Must we just fold our hands, and meet our fate?" demanded Jack. "What are you thinking about, Tom, for I can see a look in your face that we ought to know? Have you an idea—is there yet a hope that we can get a grip on this danger, and choke it?"

Tom's face was still colorless, but there was a gleam in his eye, which Jack had discovered. Perhaps after all it might be only the light of desperation, a determination to die game if a cruel fortune decreed that their time had come. Jack could not tell.

"Yes, I have a plan," said Tom quickly. "Perhaps you'll both call it a wild idea, and think I'm crazy; but desperate cases call for equally desperate remedies, and at the worst we'll have a chance."

"Good boy, Tom!" cried Jack. "Just like you to hit on a plan! Haven't I known you to come to the front many times when things looked very black for us?"

"Tom, tell your scheme!" demanded Beverly. "Things may develop faster than we suspect now, and if there's any way to get around this trouble the sooner we start the better."

"Of course," Tom replied, "we'll be taking the risk of smashing the nose of our craft when we strike, unless luck favors us. I've landed on every sort of ground, from smooth velvety turf to bumpy stuff that almost joggled me to pieces; but I never before tried dropping on an ice-floe!"

Beverly and Jack stared hard at each other. Apparently the idea struck them like a sudden blow, showing that neither had as yet contemplated such a thing.

Then they turned and stared down at the wide field of floating ice that was attached to the towering bulk of the mighty berg, as though weighing the possibility of Tom's amazing suggestion in their minds.

Jack gave a shout.

"Tom, you're a genius, that's what you are!" he almost shrieked in the intensity of his emotion. "I honestly believe it can be done successfully."

"We'd have to drop a whole lot lower, so as to take a closer survey, and learn just how smooth the surface of the floe is," Tom continued.

"I've looked through the glasses," replied Jack. "And as far as I could make out it seemed fairly decent. I know we've landed on worse ground many a time, and without being wrecked."

"Look again then, while I'm dropping down," urged Tom.

All of them were tremendously excited, as may readily be believed. And who would not have been under similar conditions? Although army air pilots are accustomed to taking great risks, and seldom go up without the thought flitting through their minds that their hour may be close at hand, still they are human, and when the dreadful crisis springs upon them they can feel the chilly hand that seems to clutch the heart.

Jack soon made his report.

"Yes, it looks good to me!" he cried, with a hopeful ring to his voice. "I can see a crack or two that would be bad for us to run into; but there's a clear field over on the north side of the floe. I'm sure we could make it without getting badly shaken up. Then it's our only chance; if we miss this what else could we do?"

"Nothing," Tom replied quietly. "But I'm going to circle the berg, and see what lies on the other side."

"Whatever we decide to do," remarked Beverly, who seemed to have recovered to a great extent from his first perturbation, "we must lose no time about carrying it out. That feed pipe might become fully clogged at any minute, you know. Then besides, the sun is ready to dip down behind the sea horizon, when we'll soon be plunged into darkness."

"Yes," agreed Tom, "we mustn't fool away our time. It's going to be no easy job to make a safe landing on the ice, something none of us has ever practiced. But it'd be still worse to go at it haphazard."

The others knew what was in Tom's mind. Should they seriously injure the big bombing plane there would be no way of making repairs. On land it could be turned over to the repair-shop, and inside of a week perhaps emerge once more in as good shape as ever. No such convenience could be looked for out there in mid-Atlantic!

In a short time they had circled the great mass of ice. They all fully realized now how cold it was, and why the sea water must be affected for a mile or more all around such a tremendous bit of the Arctic regions.

They found that most of the floe lay on the north side of the berg; and decided that their best chance for landing must be in that quarter.

"The old berg looks top-heavy," Jack at one time called out. "You can see that it leans toward the north; and sometimes I've thought it wobbled considerably, though that may have been the plane waving up and down."

"No, you were right, Jack," said Beverly. "Its leaning that way tells that the warmer sea water has begun to eat at its base. Before a great while the berg will roll over, and smash all that floe into bits."

"I hope not when we're on it, working at our motor!" Jack could not keep from exclaiming, looking with more interest than ever at the monster berg that had come all this distance from some glacier a thousand miles away, perhaps several times that distance, and would sooner or later lose itself in sub-tropical waters.

Lower still Tom took them. All eyes continued to survey the field of ice, particularly in that extreme northern sector where Jack had reported lay the best place for landing.

"Once more in a circle so as to face the wind," said Tom, "and then I mean to put it to the test."

"Good luck to you, Tom!" said Jack. "If ever you dropped as if you were falling on eggs, let it be now. I'm going to hold my breath when we strike the ice, and only hope we don't keep gliding along until we shoot off the edge into the sea!"

"Leave that to me, Jack," came the assurance of the pilot.

After that no one said a word, for both Lieutenant Beverly and Jack Parmly realized that it would be dangerous to distract Tom's attention from his work just at the most critical moment.

The sun had reached the horizon, and inside of a few minutes must vanish from view. At that moment Tom shut off the engine, and made ready to alight!

XX. ON THE ICE FLOE

If ever Tom Raymond had need of skill and care it was then, for what might be an ordinary mishap ashore must be a fatal accident under the conditions by which they were faced.

But almost as lightly as a snowflake touches the ground he brought the wheels under the big bomber in contact with the ice. Indeed, Jack could not tell for a certainty when the actual contact occurred; though immediately afterwards he found himself being shaken more or less as the heavy plane bumped along over the ice.

One peril still menaced them, which was that their momentum, unless halted, might carry them to the terminus of the floe, and plunge them over. But Tom had taken all precautions, and allowed for everything, even an unusual slide on account of the smooth surface under the wheels.

Slower grew their progress, though the bumping continued unabated. And finally they had come to a full stop, with still some little stretch of the ice field ahead.

Then Jack tried to yell, cowboy fashion; but, to his surprise and disgust, he could hardly make a sound above a whisper, his voice having failed him through sheer nervous excitement.

He jumped from his seat, and immediately sat down with a rude jar on the ice; but, nothing daunted, he quickly scrambled to his feet and began to dance like a wild Indian might when the war tocsin sounds through the village, and all his primeval instincts are aroused by the thought of fighting and plunder.

Tom and Lieutenant Beverly also hastened to leave their seats. They too found that their legs were cramped and almost useless, through having maintained a sitting position during so many weary hours.

Jack's exuberant spirits caused him to fairly hug his chum.

"Didn't I know you could do it, Tom?" he cried. "See how the old luck keeps hanging over us, will you? It's always been this way, Colin; and to have Tom along means success every time."

"That may be," the lieutenant replied, giving Tom a fond look; "but if I were you I'd call it something more than just luck. It takes brains to think up such schemes as this one, brains and a lively imagination in the bargain; and Tom's rich in both of those requirements."

"Let's get busy, and see about fixing that feedpipe," broke out the modest object of all this praise. "We have only a short time of daylight to work in, and after that must depend on our little searchlight torch."

All were willing to start work. Jack found himself shivering slightly, although they had not been on the ice-floe many minutes.

"Gee, but it's certainly cold, for a fact!" he exclaimed. "I'd hate to be marooned here any length of time, let me tell you, even if we did have grub enough to last over a week. Why, we'd freeze to death; not to mention what would become of us when the old berg crashed over and scattered all this floe ice!"

"Let's hope that our stay will be of short duration then," said Beverly, with a quick and apprehensive glance in the direction of the towering iceberg, upon the peak of which the last rays of the sinking sun glinted until it seemed to be frosted with a million diamonds.

Tom was already busily engaged, after the bomber had been wheeled partly around, in order that he might have the benefit of what light remained with the departure of day.

Beverly and Jack hovered over him, ready to give advice, or lend a helping hand. Of course none of them had ever had to do with this particular type of a plane; but then all engines have many similarities in their construction, and Tom, as well as the other two, had proved themselves to be capable mechanics, as well as able pilots.

Finally, as it was impossible for the three of them to work at the repairs, Jack walked around and examined the singular formation constituting the berg and attendant ice-floe.

"Why," he told himself in glee, "it floated across our path when we needed a landing-place the worst kind, as if we'd ordered it to be held in waiting. It might be the next time there'll be a convenient island handy, though I hope there'll come no next time."

He even found a way to climb on to the berg itself, though in most places the field ice was chopped into small bits by some action on the part of the vast bulk, perhaps during a high wind and a heavy sea.

"All I want to be able to say is that I've been on a regular iceberg," Jack announced, after he had once more returned to his mates; "but it's frigid, let me tell you. Why, there's enough ice in that mountain to freeze all the cream made around New York in a whole season, and then some."

He found that Tom was still busily engaged, with Beverly bending down in frequent consultation.

"Say, is it going to be anything serious, fellows? Worse than we at first thought?"

Beverly looked up and gave him a reassuring smile. He was now holding the little hand-torch and directing its ray so that Tom could get the full benefit.

"No reason to believe so, Jack," he remarked quietly. "Tom's still of the opinion that we ought to have it all fixed up for keeps before an hour goes by, if things keep on working as we expect."

"Fine! You make me happy when you say that, Colin!" Jack returned. "If only the berg doesn't roll over before we get out of this, I'll consider that we have much to be thankful for," he added slowly.

"Could you feel any motion when you stood on that lower shelf of the berg?" asked Beverly, showing that he had watched what Jack was doing.

"I should say I could," the other assured him. "It nearly made me sea-sick. I'd hate to have to stay here very much longer. If you watch a cloud passing you can see just how the peak dips, and swings back and forth. It's getting ready to tumble, and before long!"

Tom worked on.

He too realized that the longer they were compelled to stay on the ice field the greater their danger must become. If that towering berg ever did turn over bottom-up it would smash the floe into fragments and churn up the adjacent waters in a way that would leave no avenue of escape for the trio of adventurous air pilots who had alighted there by reason of circumstances beyond their control.

His hands felt cold, and he was compelled at times to get up and thrash both arms about to induce circulation in his extremities. Beverly and Jack both offered to take his place, but Tom, having started the job, thought he had better finish it if possible.

"Everything seems to be working along as good as pie," Beverly reported, in order to add to Jack's peace of mind, for he knew the other must be growing a bit anxious again. Delay meant so much to Jack in this endeavor to beat the steamship across the Atlantic.

"If you've no objections, I'll rustle after that grub bag, and indulge in something to help get rid of this empty feeling I've got. We'll all feel better for something to eat," said Jack. "I think Tom could work faster if he would take time now for a sandwich."

"You're right, perhaps, Jack," returned Colin. "Although we had better wait for a full meal till we get in the air."

"Here's luck, boys!" cried Jack a minute afterwards.

"What have you found now?" asked Tom, without looking up.

"Why, the coffee's still hot. And let me tell you, it feels good to my hands. There never was a finer thing for poor air pilots than these bottles that allow them to have a warm drink when two miles up, and in freezing temperature. This will put fresh life in our bodies."

"That isn't half bad," answered Tom; "so hand it over, and I'll take a drink or two."

Tom swallowed his coffee and hastily ate a sandwich, but the others, without Tom's reason for haste, ate hungrily.

Never, they confessed, had they felt such voracious appetites as on this flight. Perhaps the invigorating sea air had something to do with it; but Jack, at least, was not the one to bother himself about the cause, so long as the provisions held out.

Some time passed in this way. Tom at work, Beverly holding the flashlight in one hand and taking in the other such food as Jack handed to him.

Tom had just remarked he believed he had effected a radical cure, and that the feed-pipe was not likely to become obstructed again; at the same time Jack could see he was starting to put things together once more.

It began to look as though they might be ready to make a fresh start in a very short time, not more than ten minutes, Jack figured. It thrilled him to realize this fact. He even glanced toward the towering berg as if to say:

"Now be good, and just hold off your gymnastics till we get started, old chap! Afterwards you can cut up as much as you please, and little we'll care. But I've got too much at stake right now in getting to land to have any silly ice mountain turn over on me. So forget your troubles for another half hour, if you please!"

Just then Jack saw something move close by. A scuffling sound, followed by a strange sniffling, could be plainly heard. Jack bent down and clutched Beverly by the arm, saying shrilly:

"Listen, both of you! That Polar bear is coming for us, and I think he means business, too!"

XXI. ATTACKED BY A POLAR BEAR

"Here's trouble, all right!" grumbled Beverly, as he turned, looking to where Jack was pointing, and also discovered something moving.

Tom dropped his monkey-wrench. Something else besides a tool of that kind would be needed to defend them against the claws and teeth of such a bulky monster as a huge Polar bear.

All of them could now make the animal out as Beverly concentrated the little ray of light upon him. The beast was advancing slowly, but pugnaciously, sniffling the air, and evidently furiously hungry on account of his prolonged cruise upon the icefield, deprived of his customary fish meals.

"What ought we do, Tom?" Jack called out hurriedly. "If we retreat, like as not he'll muss things up around here, and maybe ruin our plane for us."

"We must keep him away!" announced Lieutenant Beverly. "It would mean death to us all if he got to tumbling around and smashed some of the parts of the machine."

As he said this he fumbled about his person, producing the automatic pistol with which he usually went on his flights; and without which few air pilots venture to enter into combat with enemy fliers.

Tom duplicated his act immediately, while Jack, at the same time, secured his weapon from the place where he kept it when in his seat. So, after all, things did not seem to be altogether favorable to Bruin; and had the bear only known what he was up against possibly he would have found it discreet to back off and let the three strange creatures alone.

"Be sure to hold your fire, boys!" Lieutenant Beverly ordered, taking command. "We must be like old Put at the battle of Bunker Hill, and wait till we can see his eyes clearly. It's going to be hard to drive off that big rascal with only pistols! Aim for the spot back of his foreleg if you can; that may reach his heart!"

There was not much time for preparation, since the bear kept advancing at the same shuffling gait. Tom tried shouting at him, hoping the sound of a human voice might cause the beast to alter his intention, and turn back.

The bear did stop, and thrust his muzzle further out as though to get a better whiff of the queer animals against which he found himself pitted.

"Didn't go, Tom, for he's coming on again!" cried Jack.

"Get ready to give him a volley," the lieutenant ordered. "Tom, move off a bit to the right, and I'll go to the left. That may upset his calculations some; and besides, we'll have a better chance to bore in back of his forelegs. Jack, stand where you are, and shoot when we do!"

"I'm game!" came the steady reply.

Both the others made a quick move, and the bear found himself facing three separate points of peril. He growled fiercely, and came on again, straight toward the plane, which seemed to have aroused his curiosity. Perhaps he fancied it was some monster bird that would afford him more than one good meal.

"Give it to him, everybody!" suddenly shouted Lieutenant Beverly.

Hardly had he uttered the last word than there was a rattle of firearms as the three of them discharged their weapons. There arose a mighty roar of anger as the bear felt the sudden pain of bullets entering his flesh.

"Again! He's staggering, but full of fight yet!"

Once more the pistol shots rang out. The bear was moving, but seemed to be growing quite weak and confused, for once he fell half over, though managing to recover and push on.

It took several more rounds before the huge bulk rolled over, gave a few spasmodic kicks, and then expired.

"Bully work, boys!" shouted Jack, as he hurried forward to take a close-up view of their victim. "Gee whiz! but isn't he a buster though? Never did I dream I'd help bring down a real Arctic white bear! And just to think of the queer conditions of this hunt, too, will you? I wager, now, there never was one like it—by airplane at that!"

After one look at the bear Tom returned to his task. Shooting game was all very fine, but he had business of a different character to call for his attention just then.

"Wonder if the old chap has got a mate around?" suggested Jack, a sudden thought causing him to survey the ice-floe as seen under the faint light of the stars that were beginning to show in the heavens above.

"Not one chance in a thousand he had company," Beverly insisted; "but no harm in your keeping a wary eye about, Jack, while Tom gets things in shape again. I have to stay here with the light. If you've a sharp knife what's to hinder you from taking one of his claws for a trophy?"

"I'll do that same. Thank you for reminding me, Colin! Some fellows I know are such Doubting Thomases you have to be in a position to prove everything you tell them. Tom, loan me that knife of yours, please. It's got an edge like a razor to it, and those paws look simply immense."

"Make haste about it, for we'll soon be ready to skip out of this place," Tom warned him as he handed over the knife.

Jack began to work industriously. He found he had undertaken no mean job when he contracted to sever one of the front paws of the dead Polar bear. Not only did he have to cut through ligaments and tough skin, but the bones themselves gave him no end of trouble.

He solved this by finding the heavy monkey-wrench, and using it as a hammer, with the knife in place, thus actually severing the paw complete after considerable trouble.

"There, isn't that a regular beauty to show?" he demanded, holding up the result of his labor. "I feel something like a young Indian warrior who's just killed his first grizzly, and means to hang the claws about his neck to prove his bravery."

He stood looking down at the monster bear for a minute, debating something in his mind.

"I wonder now," Jack finally observed, "if we could eat that bear meat, supposing something happened to keep us marooned on this ice for weeks at a stretch? What do you think about it, Tom?"

"It might be possible, if we got in a bad pinch and were almost starving," came the reply. "But you must remember we'd have to swallow it raw, because we haven't any means for making a fire; and trying to kindle a blaze on the ice would be a tough job."

"Then I'm glad to know we don't have to depend on bear meat to keep us from starving," Jack announced. "Pretty nearly through, Tom?"

"Five minutes more ought to see us ready to start. I'm pretty hungry though and would like something more to eat. You boys ate a good deal, but you called it 'a snack,' and not 'supper.'"

"On the whole," Colin suggested, "perhaps we'd better leave the supper until we get to moving smoothly again. Things ought to taste better if we feel we've got the bulge on this engine trouble for fair."

Jack did not try to urge any undue haste. Nevertheless he looked several times in the quarter close by where the big berg raised its cone, as if his uneasiness now might be wholly concerned with its possibilities for making fresh trouble.

Was it imagination, or some sort of optical delusion that made the tip of the huge berg seem to come lower and lower, then draw back again as if making a ceremonious bow like a dancing-master?

Jack gasped, and opened his lips to cry out, but thinking better of it restrained the temptation. They could not get away until the repairs were complete. At the same time, while trying to make himself believe he had magnified the thing, he was conscious of a louder grinding noise than any heard up to that moment.

Tom was putting the finishing bolt in place. A few more efforts and he would be able to announce that his task had been completed. Jack became conscious of a peculiar undulating movement to the ice under his feet. It was just the same as he could remember experiencing when on skates, and going at full steam over a thin section of ice that must have easily broken under his weight only for the speed with which he crossed over.

Was the ice floe about to break up? Would it result in several smaller sections separating from the main stem, none of which might be of a size to allow them sufficient room for making a start?

The thought alarmed Jack. He also knew that undoubtedly any movement to the pack ice must be caused by some action of the giant berg. Was that mountain of ice about to take the plunge at last, and turn over, its base being eaten away to such an extent that the whole had become top-heavy?

Once again did Jack turn his startled eyes to the left. He could not get it out of his mind how terribly suggestive that "bow" on the part of the berg had been.

There it was, coming again! Perhaps the wind had grown stronger since they dropped down upon the ice, and was adding its force to the action of the waters.

Jack found himself unable to hold in any longer. If such a dreadful peril hung over them it was time his companions knew the need of haste in getting free from that doomed field of ice. So he put all doubts behind him and gave tongue.

"Hurry, hurry, Tom! The iceberg is acting queerly. It's tottering as if ready to roll over on us! Don't you see how it acts, Tom?"

XXII. WHEN THE ICEBERG ROLLED OVER

Fortunately Tom had everything ready for an immediate start, acting under orders, Jack and Beverly having previously changed the position of the big plane, so that it now faced the run taken when landing.

This brought the wind back of them; but that would be an asset rather than a detriment. They had also gone hastily over the course to make absolutely certain there was no break, or other trap, which might give them serious trouble.

"Jump aboard, both of you!" cried Tom, still keeping his head—a lucky thing, since to get "rattled" in such a crisis might prove fatal.

The beating of the engine and the whirr of the propellers announced that they were off. On the comparatively smooth ice it was easy to make a start unassisted by mechanics or hostlers.

Jack's heart seemed to be in his throat, and he waited in feverish suspense to learn whether success or failure was to be their fortune. Faster now grew their progress, but would the stretch of ice prove a long enough area to give them the necessary momentum?

Every second they expected to hear horrible grinding noises from behind, such as must accompany the toppling over of the berg. Even the splash of waves against the further side of the big ice-floe seemed like the pounding of a monster hammer, at least to Jack's excited imagination.

They were now drawing perilously near the brink. Was Tom ever going to elevate the plane and attempt the rise from the flat surface of the ice?

Just when it seemed to Jack that hope must yield to despair he realized that the jumpy motion of the plane ceased suddenly. He knew what this meant, and that Tom had finally shown his hand, for they no longer bumped along but began to move through space!

Then Jack fell back, breathing freely again. Success had rewarded their efforts, and once more the big bomber was speeding through its own element on the wings of the wind.

But it had indeed been a narrow escape for the adventurous trio; for hardly had they started to swing upward into space when from behind them arose a series of horrible crashings, gurglings, and the mad splashing of water, telling that in truth the giant berg had carried out its threat and rolled completely over, playing havoc with the entire floe.

No one spoke immediately. In fact, none of them could have uttered a word, no matter how hard he had tried. In each young heart a feeling of intense gratitude reigned, as well as a sensation of horror, for only too well did they know what their immediate fate must have been had they remained prisoners on the ice but another two minutes.

Tom pointed the nose of the plane directly into the southwest. He even seemed to be getting additional speed out of his motors, as though bent on making up for the lost time.

All of them began to settle down for another long monotonous period with the whole night before them. Far from comfortable might be their situation, but not a single complaint would be heard. All they asked was that things might go on as they were, with the plane reeling off knot after knot of the cruise into the west.

After a while Jack remembered that Tom had had but a bite of supper. Accordingly he got out the supplies and proceeded to serve them. Then he took Tom's place for a while and held the airship true to her course.

They kept about five hundred feet or so above the sea. Somehow it gave them a little encouragement just to catch the glint of the stars on the tumbling waves below. There was a friendliness in the billows, a something that seemed to keep them in contact with their fellow men; a thing which they missed when passing along two thousand feet or more above the surface of the terrestrial globe, even beyond the floating clouds.

So the long vigil was taken up. Hour after hour the giant bomber must wing its swift flight, ever speeding onward into the realm of space through which it was now making a voyage unequalled since Columbus sailed his three high-decked boats into that unknown ocean at the end of which he expected to come to the East Indies.

By turns they managed to get some sleep, each serving his trick as pilot.

The hours grew into early morning. How eagerly did the pilot often turn his tired head to gaze backward toward the east, to see if but the first faint gleam of coming dawn had appeared there. And how joyfully did he welcome it when that desire became reality.

So the unfolding day found them, still heading onward, and with everything promising well. Jack, of course, had his binoculars out as soon as it was possible to see any distance. Shortly afterwards he made an important announcement.

"Smoke head of us, fellows. Much too much to come from any one steamer. You can see it with the naked eye, dead on there!"

After taking a good look, Tom, who was at the wheel, gave his opinion.

"It might be a vessel afire," he said slowly. "One of those tank-oil steamers would make a fierce smoke, you know. But on the whole I rather believe it's a convoy of troop ships going across to France."

"I never thought of that, Tom!" cried Jack, again clapping the glasses to his eyes; "but I reckon you're right, for I can see funnels of black smoke rising from different quarters. Yes, there must be dozens of boats in that flotilla. What had we better do?"

"Go aloft, and try to keep out of sight among the little clouds," was the immediate reply Tom made. "We could continue to watch, and see all that passed below, at the same time keeping ourselves fairly invisible. They'll hardly be looking up so as to discover a speck floating past. And then again all that smoke is bound to make it difficult for them to see."

He lost no time in commencing a spiral climb for altitude, boring upward with the powerful bomber in a way that was wonderful.

By degrees they attained the height desired, and once again did Tom head into the southwest. Jack reported what he saw from time to time, calling above the noise made by engines and propellers.

"It's a big convoy, all right," he told them. "I can see ever so many steamships following one another in double column. Each is loaded with our boys in khaki, I presume. Then off on either side and ahead are little specks that I can just make out by reason of their smoke streamers. Those must be the score or more of destroyers, guarding the flotilla against U-boat attack. It's a great sight, let me tell you! Here, Colin's getting out his glasses to take a look. Tom, you must have a chance too."

Each in turn managed to survey the stirring spectacle as spread out upon the sea far beneath them. And the pulses of those gallant lads throbbed with pardonable pride when they realized what magnificent efforts America was making to win the war in favor of the Allies, after entering it so late herself.

Gradually the great smoke cloud began to grow more distant, the fleet with its convoy having passed by, continuing to head into the east, where the lurking U-boat would possibly be waiting to attack.

"That was a great sight!" exclaimed Tom, as their attention again turned to possibilities lying before them, rather than what had passed by.

"Never forget it as long as I live!" Jack declared vehemently.

"It's been a good thing for us in more than one way," Tom went on to say. "You see, personally, I've been just a bit in doubt about our actual bearings; and this has set me straight. I can put my finger on the actual spot on the chart where we'd be likely to meet the fleet. So now we've got to change our course sharply."

"Running more into the south-southwest, you mean, I suppose, Tom?" asked Beverly.

"Just that," continued the acting pilot. "We want to strike the Virginia shore, you understand, and right now we're off Long Island. After several hours on our new course we'll again make a sharp swing into the west, and then look for land!"

"And that land, oh, joy! will be our own America!" cried Jack, his face fairly beaming with expectation.

They kept booming along on the new course for several hours, and as it did not seem necessary to continue at such a great altitude they again descended to the old familiar line of flight, with the sea about five hundred feet below.

"Given another hour," Tom said, along about the middle of the morning, "and it will be time to strike for the west. We must be off Delaware or the tip of Maryland right now. Jack just reported a faint glimpse of land, but wasn't sure it might not be a low-hanging cloud bank."

"And now we're in for another experience, I'm afraid," called out Jack, "for there's a nasty sea fog sweeping along from the south. We're bound to drive into it before five minutes more—the first real mist blanket to strike us all the way across."

Jack's prediction proved no idle one, for in less than the time specified they found themselves suddenly enveloped by a dense mantle of mist through which it would have been utterly impossible to have seen anything a hundred feet away.

Tom for one did not like the coming of that fog just when they were about to drew near the land of their hopes. Unlike a vessel, they could not come to anchor and ride it out, waiting for the fog to lift; but must drive on, and desperately strive to find some sort of landing.

"The thickest fog I ever saw!" Jack observed, after they had been passing through the moist gray blanket of mist for some little time.

"Just the usual kind you'll meet with on the sea at times," answered the lieutenant. "I was caught in one when out on the fishing banks, and it wasn't any too pleasant a feeling it gave me either. But for our compass we'd never have reached shore again."

"And but for the compass right now," said Tom, "it would be next to impossible to steer a straight course."

"One good thing," Jack told them; "very little danger of a collision, such as vessels are likely to encounter in so dense a fog."

"No, the air passage across the Atlantic hasn't become so popular yet that we have to keep blowing a fog horn while sailing," laughed Colin.

All of them were feeling considerably brighter, now that their wonderful venture seemed to be drawing close to a successful termination. If only their luck held good and allowed them to make a safe landing, they felt they would have good reason for gratitude.

"What makes it feel so queer at times?" Jack asked later on. "Why, I seem to have the blood going to my head, just as happened when looping the loop, and hanging too long in stays."

"I've noticed the same thing myself," added Colin briskly, "and tried to figure out the cause. Tom, what do you say about it?"

"A queer situation has arisen, according to my calculation," the pilot told them. "Fact is, without being able to see a solitary thing anywhere about us, above or below, it's often impossible to know when we're sailing on a level keel, or flying upside down!"

"That's a fact," admitted Lieutenant Beverly. "When you haven't the slightest thing to guide you, stars, sun, or earth, how can you tell which is up or which is down? We go forward because of the compass; but part of the time I do believe, just as you say, Tom, we've been flying upside-down!"

"I don't fancy this way of flying," Tom announced. "I think it would be better for us to climb in order to see if we can get out of this pea-soup."

"Ditto here!" echoed Jack. "I'm getting dizzy, with it all, and my head feels twice as heavy as ordinary. You can't mount any too soon to please me, Tom."

Lieutenant Beverly was not averse, it seemed, so the call became unanimous.

"All we want is to sight land," the Lieutenant remarked. "Then we can start for the interior, and try to pick a nice soft spot for landing without getting all smashed up."

Later on he was reminded of that wish by Jack, for they certainly found such a spot, as future events proved.

By climbing to a considerable height it was found that they could avoid the uncomfortable experiences that had befallen them closer to the surface of the ocean. Here the sun was shining, and while clouds floated around them there was no longer a chance of the plane being inverted.

Jack could make out land at times, though still faintly seen, and lying low on the uncertain horizon.

"I wonder if that can be Virginia I see?" he sometimes said; but talking more to himself than trying to make the others hear.

"It isn't far away at most, Jack," Beverly assured him; for he sympathized with Jack and the reason the other had for longing to get to the home town ahead of his scheming cousin.

"Show me the chart and just about where we ought to be right now, Tom," said Jack. "That is, if it's no trouble."

"No trouble to do it," came the quick reply, and with a pencil Tom made a cross on the chart while Jack's eyes danced with joy.

"Then that must be Virginia off there to the west!" he cried, again snatching up the glasses for another earnest look.

Tom watched him out of the corner of his eye. Well did he know that as Jack feasted his gaze upon the far distant land in imagination he was seeing that dearly loved home, with the friends who were so precious to him, and in fancy receiving their warm greetings.

They continued on for some little time. Tom felt pretty confident that he was correct, though he would be glad to have some confirmation of his figuring.

"The fog is thinning some!" he finally stated, "and I think we'd better seek a lower level."

"Might as well," added Beverly, approving of the idea instantly.

"Yes," added Jack, "when the time comes to fly landward we'll want to be down far enough to see where we're going. We needn't be afraid any longer of making a sensation, because seaplanes must be cruising over these waters nearly every day, coming from the station near Fortress Monroe at Hampton Roads."

Accordingly it was not long before they were skirting the upper reaches of the diminishing fog bank, being about a thousand feet or so above the sea itself. Now and then slight rifts appeared in the disappearing mist, and at such intervals it was possible for them to catch fleeting glimpses of the Atlantic, whose wide expanse they had successfully spanned, an event that would make history, if only it could ever be publicly known.

Jack could no longer see the low shore, much to his distress; but then he knew positively it was there, and when the time came to change their course directly into the west a brief flight would carry them over the land.

It really mattered little to him where they made their landing, since he would be able to find a way of reaching Bridgeton within a few hours. He consulted his little wrist watch again and again.

Tom was more than a little amused to see Jack even clap it close to his ear. He knew the reason of his doing this, for time was crawling on so slowly in the estimation of the impatient one that he even suspected the faithful little watch had ceased to go, though its steady ticking must have speedily assured him such could not possibly be the case.

"Listen!" Lieutenant Beverly suddenly called out.

A strange weird sound came faintly to their ears. Even above all the noise of their working engine they could make it out. To any one who came from the interior of the country it might have seemed a bewildering sound, and have called up strange fancies connected with marine monsters that were said to have once inhabited these waters near the Gulf Stream.

But the trio of voyagers had lived too long near the coast not to recognize a fog-siren when they heard its strident call.

Jack in particular was exultant.

"Tell me, is that the anchored light-ship's siren, Tom, do you think?" he demanded, with considerable excitement.

The pilot nodded his head, and with a finger pointed to a dot on the chart to indicate that it could be nothing else.

"I presume, Tom," Jack went on to say, "you came down when you did partly to catch that sound as we came near the shoals where the lightship stands guard day and night the whole year through."

"Well, I had that in mind," came the answer, "for, as I said before, while feeling pretty sure of my bearings I thought I'd like to have them verified. And now you can see I wasn't much out of the way."

"You've done splendidly, Tom," said Beverly, clapping the other heartily on the back. "We've all carried ourselves like true Americans through this whole affair; and it'll afford us considerable satisfaction when we look back on the wonderful trip."

"And now, Tom, hadn't we better turn toward the shore?" asked Jack.

"Just as soon as we get over the lightship I will know how to steer, Jack. Keep cool, and before long you'll be looking down on our beloved Virginia once again."

"You make me mighty happy when you say that, Tom. Many times I've wondered if I'd ever see it again, we've been overseas so long and in so many perils while doing our duty. How fine it'll be to stand once more on the soil where both of us were born, and know we've done a pretty big thing in crossing the Atlantic by the new air route!"

They fell silent again after that, but not for long. Louder and clearer came the frequent long-drawn wails of the steam fog-horn, until finally it seemed evident they were almost exactly above the lightship that, as Tom knew, was anchored on the shoals to warn mariners of their danger by means of a far-reaching lamp and the powerful siren's hoarse voice.

"Now we'll strike in for the land!" called out Tom, his announcement causing Jack to thrill with delight, while Beverly too showed his pleasure in broad smiles.

Soon afterwards they were speeding due west, with Jack gluing his eyes to his glasses and reporting every few minutes fresh signs of vast importance. Virginia soon lay beneath them, to announce that they had completed their wonderful flight across the Atlantic.

XXIII. THE END OF THE FLIGHT

No longer did the fog enfold them in its damp grasp. After leaving the immediate coast behind them the last trace of it disappeared.

Jack refused to take his entranced eyes from the binoculars for a single minute. He felt a hundred-fold repaid for all the perils encountered during the memorable flight from the shore of France, during which they had spanned the vast area of the Atlantic, and were now sailing peacefully along above the home soil.

Lieutenant Beverly made an announcement just then that startled them.

"We must look for a place to drop down without any further loss of time!" he called out to Tom, who was still serving as pilot.

"But it would be mighty fine," Jack observed wistfully, "if only we might keep going on until we got a few miles out of Bridgeton. I know every rod of territory for miles around and could point out a dandy level field to make our landing in. We'd be able to descend without observation, too, I really believe."

"That'd surely be nice, Jack," Beverly told him, "and I wish we could accommodate you. But the fact is we're about out of gas! I noted this a short time ago, but said nothing, because it would do no good to throw a scare into you both. Besides, Tom had already headed direct for the land at the time."

"How lucky that didn't happen when we were a hundred miles out at sea!" Tom exclaimed, his first thought being one of satisfaction, rather than useless complaint. This was characteristic of Tom, always seeing the bright side of things, no matter how gloomy they appeared to others.

"Then I'd better be looking for a landing-place," Jack quickly remarked, getting over his little disappointment.

"And the sooner we duck the better," Beverly admitted. "If the motors go back on us we'll be in a bad fix; and volplaning to the ground isn't always as easy as it's pictured, especially when you've no choice of a landing."

"After all, it does not matter so very much," Jack concluded. "Surely once we succeed in gaining a footing we can discover a means for getting to our goal without much loss of time."

He bent his energies toward looking for what would seem to be a promising open spot, where there would not be apt to be any pitfalls or traps waiting to wreck their plane, and possibly endanger their lives.

"Scrub woods all below us, Tom!" he announced.

"But there must be openings here and there," the pilot told him. "If only the field seems long enough to admit of our coming to a stop, we'd better take chances."

"Nothing yet, sorry to say," called out Jack.

"Suppose you drop lower, Tom," suggested Beverly. "If we skirt the tops of the taller trees we'll be better able to see without depending on the glasses. All three of us can be on the lookout at the same time."

Tom considered that a good idea and he lost no time in carrying it out. It was easier now to take particular note of the ground; but they passed over mile after mile of the scrub without discovering what they most earnestly sought.

"Things are getting down to a fine point, Tom," warned Beverly. "Our gas is on its last legs, and any minute now we'll find ourselves without motive power."

"It must change soon," the pilot told them. "This scrub forest has got to give way to rising ground and open spaces."

"But if it doesn't, what then?" asked Jack.

"I hate to think of crashing down into those trees," Tom admitted. "We've just got to get over being too particular. Several places we let pass us might have answered our purpose. Look ahead, Jack, and tell me if there doesn't seem to be some sort of open spot lying there."

Jack gave a whoop.

"Here we are!" he cried exultantly. "It's an opening in the scrub timber, a big gash too, for a fact! Why, already I can see that it looks like a level green field. How queer it should be lying right there, as if it might be meant for us."

"You don't glimpse any other chance further on, do you, Jack?" continued the pilot.

"Never a thing, Tom. Just a continuation of those same old dwarf oak trees. But why do you ask that? What's the matter with this fine big gap?"

"I'm afraid it's a marsh, and not a dry field!" Tom answered. "But all the same I presume we'll have to chance it. Better to strike a bog than to fall into those trees, where the lot of us might be killed."

"Suppose we circle around, and try to find the best place for a descent," proposed Beverly.

All of them strained their eyes to try to see better. Unfortunately a cloud passed over the sun just then, rendering it difficult to make sure of anything.

"What's the verdict?" sang out Tom presently, keeping a wary eye on the straining motors.

"Looks to me as if that further part might be the highest ground," was Jack's decision.

"I agree with you there!" instantly echoed Beverly.

"That settles it! Here goes to make the try," Tom announced, again swinging in and shutting off all power.

He continued to glide downward, approaching the ground at a certain point which he had picked but with his highly trained eye as apparently the best location for the landing.

Suspecting what might happen, Tom held back until the very last, so that the big bombing plane was not going at much speed when its wheels came in contact with the ground for the first time.

Something happened speedily, for it proved to be a bog, and as the rubber-tired wheels sank in and could not be propelled, the natural result followed that the nose of the giant plane was buried in the soft ground, and they came to an abrupt stop.

Tom was the first to crawl forth, and Beverly followed close upon his heels. The third member of the party did not seem as ready to report, which fact alarmed his chum.

"Jack, what's wrong with you?" he called out, starting to climb aboard the smashed plane again.

"Nothing so very much, I think; but I seem to be all twisted up in this broken gear, and can hardly move," came the answer.

Tom secretly hoped it was not a broken arm or leg instead. He started to feel around, and soon managed to get the other free from the broken ends of the wire stays that had somehow hindered his escape. Together they crawled out, to find Lieutenant Beverly feeling himself all over as if trying to discover what the extent of his damages were.

"Try to see if you've been injured any way seriously, Jack," begged his anxious chum, still unconvinced.

An investigation disclosed the marvelous fact that all of them had managed to come through the smashing landing with but a small amount of damage. When this was ascertained without any doubt Jack started to prance around, unable to contain himself within bounds.

"Excuse me if I act a little looney, fellows!" he begged. "Fact is, I'm just keyed up to topnotch and something will give way unless I let off steam a bit."

With that he yelled and laughed and cheered until his breath gave out. Neither of the others felt any inclination to try to stop his antics. Truth to tell, they were tempted to egg Jack on, because he was really expressing in his own fashion something of the same exultation that all of them felt.

The great flight had been carried through, and here they were landed on the soil of America, three young aviators who but a few days before had been serving their country on the fighting-front in Northern France. Yes, the Atlantic had been successfully bridged by a heavier-than-air plane, and from the time of leaving France until this minute their feet had not once pressed any soil; for that ice-pack in mid-Atlantic could not be counted against them, since it too was nothing but congealed water.

"But the poor old bomber! It's ruined, Colin, I'm afraid," Jack finally managed to say, when he sank down from his exertions.

"That's a small matter," Beverly assured him. "The main thing is that we did what we set out to do, and proved that the dream of all real airmen could be made to come true. We may live to see a procession of monster boats of the air setting out for over-seas daily, carrying passengers, as well as mail and express matter."

"Yes," said Tom gravely, and yet with a pardonable trace of pride in voice and manner, "the Atlantic has been conquered, and saddled, and bridled, like any wild broncho of the plains. But hadn't we better be thinking of getting out of this soft marshy tract?"

"As quickly as we possibly can," Jack told him. "We'll try to run across some Virginia farmer, black or white, who will have a horse and agree to take us to the nearest railroad station. Once we hit civilization, the rest will be easy."

"What about the plane, Colin?" asked Tom.

"It can stay here for the time being," the other answered him. "Later on I'll hire some one to have it hauled out and stored against my coming back—after we've been a while in Berlin and got Heine to behaving himself."

They secured such things as it was desirable they should keep. Acting on Tom's advice everything that might testify to their identity was also removed, lest the bogged plane be accidentally discovered and betray them. Afterwards they set out to find a way beyond the borders of the marsh and scrub oaks, to some place where possibly they might get assistance.

XXIV. SURPRISING BRIDGETON

"Here's the end of the marshy tract," Tom said, after they had been floundering around for some little time.

"How fine it feels to be on solid ground again," Jack observed, stamping his feet as though he really enjoyed the sensation.

Indeed, after being for such a long time, weary hours after hours, confined in the big bombing plane, the relief was greatly appreciated by both Tom Raymond and Lieutenant Beverly, as well as by Jack Parmly.

"Now for the home town!" the last mentioned told his companions. "And as near as I can figure it out there's not a ghost of a chance that Cousin Randolph could have arrived before me."

"For that matter I'm sure the French steamer must be still far out at sea, with a day or two's journey ahead of her," Colin assured him.

"Then it's my game, provided we don't run across some U. S. army authorities who'd want to know our names and hold us for investigation, which would knock everything flat."

"We're going to try to avoid all that bother," Beverly assured him. "It isn't going to make us feel very proud of our achievement, since we have to hide our light under a bushel; but for one I don't regret it. No matter if we have to be punished for desertion, our motive was honorable; and they never will be able to deny us the credit of having made the longest flight on record in a heavier-than-air machine."

"All the same," urged Tom, "I'd rather keep quiet about that stunt, for the present at least. I want to go back and finish the work over there. If the Huns are going to be driven to the Rhine we ought to be doing our duty by Uncle Sam; which we couldn't if shut up in the Government penitentiary at Fort Leavenworth, awaiting trial as deserters."

"Here's a plain trail that may lead us out of this region of scrub oaks, and to some farmer's place!" the lieutenant exclaimed just then; and in their eagerness to get in touch with some one who would take them to the railroad they talked no further concerning the great flight and its possible serious consequences to them.

Half an hour afterwards they came to the home of a farmer, who was trying to make a living out of his isolated holdings, eking it out, as he informed them while his wife was getting up the best meal possible, by doing some terrapin hunting, and even trapping muskrats and such fur-bearing animals during the otherwise unprofitable winter months.

It was very comfortable to sit down once more to a table after being so long taking "snacks" at odd hours, and being cramped in the bombing plane. And as the farmer's wife had plenty of fresh eggs, which they told her not to stint, the generous omelet she produced was fully appreciated, flanked as it was by rashers of pretty fair bacon.

There were also some freshly made soda biscuits which had a true old-fashioned Southern taste, appreciated by Tom and Jack. Lieutenant Beverly did not show any great liking for them; but he was a Northerner, brought up on baking-powder biscuits, so the others could understand his want of appreciation.

Taken all in all, they certainly enjoyed that first bite ashore after the completion of their memorable flight across the Atlantic.

Jack, so Tom said, seemed to think it was a sort of celebration because of the event, for his face was wreathed in a perpetual smile.

"The sort of smile," Jack retorted, "that won't come off."

"Oh, how good I do feel!" was a remark that if he made it once he did a dozen times, always finding it greeted by answering nods on the part of his two companions.

Of course they told the farmer they were aviators who had had the misfortune to drop into the marsh, where he would find their plane.

Beverly hired him to dismantle this in part, and store it away in his shed until later on it could be called for in person. He was not to deliver it to any person without the presence of one of the trio.

When he started out to drive them in his old rickety vehicle to the nearest railroad station, miles distant, he was almost stricken dumb because Beverly, in the fulness of his gratitude over their marvelous escape, thrust a full hundred dollars upon him, with a promise of a like amount later on for looking after the abandoned bombing plane.

"To-day is marked with a white stone in the life of Farmer Jenkins, believe me," Jack whispered aside to Tom, as they saw the amazed look spreading over the man's weather-beaten face.

"It's that with all of us," said Tom soberly.

Jack fell silent after that. He was engrossed with thoughts connected with his unexpected return to the home of his childhood; and in imagination could see the excitement their unheralded appearance was certain to arouse.

It had been arranged between them that their presence must be kept as much a secret as possible. On this account they would delay their arrival at the home of Jack's mother until after darkness had set in.

"To-morrow," Jack had said, when these things were being discussed, "we'll telegraph to Mr. Smedley in Richmond to come on without delay in connection with my dead uncle's estate, ready to settle it according to the provisions of his queer will. Then we'll be ready for Randolph when he bobs up."

Beverly had also made a suggestion when they were thus talking it all over, and arranging plans after their usual way.

"Now I've got a good friend who lives on Staten Island, right in New York harbor," he informed them. "Often while at his house visiting I've amused myself with a glass watching steamers pass through the Narrows lying between the shore of the island and that part of Brooklyn opposite Fort Wadsworth. I'll wire him to let me know by the same means when La Bretagne reaches Quarantine in the harbor."

"A clever idea, Colin!" Tom cried. "In that way we can figure out just when Jack's cousin might expect to arrive in Bridgeton to claim the estate as being the first one on the ground, thanks to that silly provision of the old man's will."

"Given two hours to get off the vessel, after the time she reaches Quarantine," Jack figured, "and six more to get to Richmond makes eight in all. Then he might be two hours getting out to Bridgeton, for trains are not very plentiful. He could make it in that time if he took a roadster with a chauffeur and came that way. Ten hours in all."

"We'll be lying in wait for Randolph, all right!" laughed Beverly. "And what a surprise it'll be! The man must think he's dreaming, having left you over in France, Jack, on the fighting front when he sailed, with not one chance in a thousand that you could catch even the next boat, days later, and then finding you here ahead of him!"

The prospect pleased them all so much that they made light of the merciless jostling received in that springless wagon over wretched Virginia shore roads. In fact, they were so elated over the great success that had rewarded their daring venture that it seemed just then as if nothing could ever again make them feel blue, or depressed in spirits.

In due time the lonely little station was reached. It was then two in the afternoon of that eventful day. Just as Tom anticipated, it turned out that there would not be a train in the direction they wished to go for two hours and more. This train would drop them at another station where a connection was made with the road that ran through Bridgeton.

It was lucky they found themselves in no hurry, thanks, as Jack naively remarked, to their having come across "on the air-line limited."

The time dragged to Jack, naturally, but he felt he had no reason for complaint after such wonderful good fortune. At last their train came along. What if it was ten minutes late? That would only shorten their wait at the junction.

"So long as we reach the old town by nine tonight I'll be satisfied," Jack had bravely committed himself by saying; and indeed it was just about then they did jump from the steps of the car at Bridgeton, for the second train had been two hours late.

Nevertheless all of them were united in thinking they had made a swift trip from the American sector of the fighting front in France to the town of Bridgeton in the Old Dominion in just four complete days.

Jack led the way, though, of course, Tom would have been just as competent a guide, since this was also his home town.

How those blinking lights in the well-remembered windows of the Parmly home held Jack's eyes, once he sighted them! Never before in all his life had he felt such a delicious thrill creep over him from head to toe.

Knocking on the door he and his chums carried out their pre-arranged plan. Jack and Tom were to keep back out of sight, leaving Lieutenant Beverly to break the glorious news first and prepare the family, so there might not be so loud an outcry as to arouse the neighbors and breed the excitement in the community that neither of the returned fighters wished.

Jack's aunt, who, a widow herself, made her home with her widowed sister-in-law, came to the door, for some reason or other. Perhaps the negro servants still went home at night, as had been the case before Jack went to the war. She looked surprised and anxious as soon as she saw that the caller was a stranger, and evidently an aviator from his dress.

"This is Mrs. Parmly, I believe?" the visitor hastened to say.

"Mrs. Job Parmly. Mrs. Parmly's sister-in-law."

"I see. Mrs. Parmly, my name is Beverly, Lieutenant Beverly of the United States Aerial Corps, just over from France. I am a good friend of your nephew, Jack, who has entrusted a message to me to deliver to his mother. May I come in for a short time, Mrs. Parmly?"

He was immediately warmly greeted and drawn into the sitting-room where he met Jack's mother. The two outside could peep under the drawn shade and watch all that went on, Jack quivering with emotion as he looked on the beloved faces of his own people once again.

Beverly knew how eager the boy must be, and hence he lost little time in getting down to the main fact, which was that he wished them not to do anything to arouse curiosity in the neighborhood; but that Jack was near by, and all would be soon explained; also that they must not be troubled thinking he, Jack, had done anything really wrong.

When he had drawn down the shades fully, that being the signal to those outside, Jack could restrain himself no longer. Opening the front door he rushed into the house and quickly had his mother and then his aunt in his arms.

The story was told at length, with the family clustered around Jack and Tom, hanging on every word as though it were the most thrilling thing they had ever heard, which in truth it must be.

Then Tom had to be considered. Lieutenant Beverly volunteered to go over to the Raymond house, which could easily be pointed out to him, and bring back the startled family, so they could greet their boy, whom they, of course, supposed to be at that very moment still overseas, risking his life in his perilous calling.

It seemed to Tom that the delight of once more greeting these loved ones well repaid him for all he had passed through in making that wonderful flight. The story had to be all gone over again, and scores of questions answered.

By degrees the scope of Jack's plan was grasped by his family, who of course knew about the strange conditions of Joshua Kinkaid's will, whereby the bulk of his large estate, long before promised to the Parmlys, would go without restrictions to either Randolph Carringford or Jack Parmly, according to which of them, after the death of the testator, appeared before a notary public specified in Bridgeton, and qualified to assume the trust.

So, too, the plan of campaign designed to confound the arch-schemer who had even plotted to keep Jack from ever applying in person, was agreed to.

The presence of the three was to be kept a dead secret. They would not go out of the house by daylight, even for a breath of air. In the morning the old family lawyer, who had also served Mr. Kinkaid in a similar capacity, would be sent for to come hurriedly.

Once he arrived, the stage would be set for carrying out the provisions of the queer will, which Tom considered might hardly have stood the test of a contest in court, though later on the lawyer, Mr. Smedley, who had himself carefully drawn it up, assured him it was really an iron-bound document.

"But," Jack said, as they waited for the lawyer's coming on the noon train from Richmond, "we can spare a couple of days here, and still make the steamer we hope to sail on for the other side. And it would be too bad if we missed seeing how dear Cousin Randolph takes his Waterloo."

Mr. Smedley arrived, and was astounded to see Jack. He showed that his sympathies were on the side of the Parmly family by his delight when shaking hands again and again.

Then the thrilling story was once more told, after he had been bound to secrecy. It would be hard to describe the emotions of the old lawyer as he sat and listened to what a great feat Jack and his two comrades had carried through.

After that all arrangements were made, and the lawyer decided to stay to see the thing through. It was the most astonishing event in all his life, he assured the company, and not for a fortune would he miss the scene that must accompany the coming of Randolph Carringford.

Mr. Smedley also sent a long telegram to that friend of Colin Beverly's who lived on Staten Island. Later that same day a reply was received promising to carry out faithfully the instructions given, if he had to sit up all night keeping watch on all vessels arriving, though if port rules were rigorously carried out no steamer would be allowed to enter or leave except by daylight.

"But we know that isn't the case," Tom said, "because those troop ships have left New York under cover of darkness many a time. Still, the ships may have waited down the bay until morning, and then sailed."

That day passed, and the following night. Early on the morning of the third day after Jack's arrival home came a telegram to Mr. Smedley.

"Now for news!" cried Jack, as it was opened.

The message was brief and to the point, affording them all the intelligence they required.

"La Bretagne at Quarantine eleven to-night; expected to dock in two hours!"

XXV. TO SEE THE WAR THROUGH—CONCLUSION

"Rap-rap-rap!"

It was just at two that afternoon, and the train from Richmond had arrived ten minutes previously. Those within had seen a station hack deposit some one at the Parmly gate.

Mrs. Parmly herself answered the summons, the colored servants having been given an unexpected but welcome holiday when they appeared for work that same morning, in order to keep them from making discoveries.

"Good afternoon, Aunt," said the smooth-tongued visitor, starting to enter without waiting for an invitation. "I learned after getting to Richmond this morning that Mr. Smedley had come out to visit you; an occurrence which makes it convenient for me."

When he entered the sitting-room he found only Jack's aunt and the lawyer there, Jack and Tom and Lieutenant Beverly being in an adjoining room, but with the connecting door ajar, so they could catch every word spoken and enjoy the dramatic situation to the utmost, being ready to step in when the crisis arrived.

Carringford proceeded to shake hands with the lawyer, after greeting Mrs. Parmly effusively. There was a smile as of triumph on his sallow face.

"Glad to find you here in Bridgeton, Mr. Smedley," Randolph again said, his voice like oil and his manner confident and condescending. "I received the notification from you when over in France working in a secret capacity for the Government."

"Yes," remarked the lawyer, "I sent both out as required."

"Must say," continued Carringford, "I wasn't much surprised, because I always knew Uncle Joshua to be a queer old duck. Realizing that unless I got a move on me and beat Cousin Jack home I'd stand to lose out in the game I managed to get passage on the La Bretagne, of the French Line. Docked at one last night, couldn't get a train till morning; but here I am, sir, ready to convince you that, being the first on the ground, my claim is perfectly valid."

He evidently expected that his coming would have produced something akin to consternation in the Parmly family, and must have wondered how they could meet bitter disappointment with such smiling faces.

"You have made very good time in crossing, Randolph," remarked the lawyer calmly, "considering the tempestuous times, and need of caution on account of the U-boats. I should say that the French steamer surpassed her record."

"And that being the case," resumed the other, smiling still as a winner at the races might do when handed his stake ten times multiplied, "since I'm here on the ground first, and you are the lawyer in the matter, what's to hinder our completing the formalities necessary to put me in possession of my great uncle's estate, according to his last will and testament?"

"The only stumbling-block that I'm aware of, Randolph," said Mr. Smedley suavely, "is a little matter of priority."

"But I am the first to appear before you, Mr. Smedley, and there were but two contestants for the property. Isn't that true?" demanded the newcomer, frowning at the thought that some unexpected legal tangle was about to appear.

"You are perfectly right in one thing, Randolph," continued the lawyer. "The race was to be between you and Jack. I must say you have made very good time getting over here. But in spite of your speed, Randolph, you are showing up somewhat late. In fact, the affair is all over, and I have started proceedings looking to conveying the property to the one undoubtedly presenting the prior claim."

The other was thunderstruck.

"Impossible, I tell you, Smedley!" he burst out. "With my own eyes I saw Jack Parmly over there at the front in France when I hurried to the port to embark on La Bretagne. He was not aboard that ship, I can take my oath, and another couldn't arrive in New York for days. So you have no other resource but to admit my claim to be just, and hand over what belongs to me. I demand it, sir."

"Not so fast, Randolph," begged the lawyer. "A little more moderation. You have made some sort of miscalculation I fear."

With these words he stamped his foot. Recognizing the signal, Jack stepped blithely into the sitting-room, followed by Tom and Beverly. His appearance almost caused Carringford to "have a fit," as Jack afterwards described the effect of his coming on the scene.

"What does this mystery mean?" he managed to gasp.

"Only that I took a notion to come home and claim that legacy left by our eccentric Uncle Joshua," Jack told him, with a shrug of his shoulders, as though miracles were an every-day occurrence with him.

"But I certainly saw you again and again, and heard you talk at the same time just before I left for Havre to sail!" cried Randolph, nevertheless convinced that at least this was the real flesh-and-blood Jack Parmly standing before him.

"Oh! did you?" remarked Jack, mockingly. "Perhaps it was a dream. Perhaps I had an understudy over there. Perhaps a whole lot of things. But the one positive fact about which there isn't any doubt is that I'm here ahead of you, and you've lost out in your game, that's all."

"But—it's impossible, incredible!" continued the other, hardly able yet to believe his own eyes.

"Still, you must admit that I'm Jack Parmly, and quite in the flesh, which after all is enough to settle the matter," he was calmly told. "My family here have received me as their own; and Mr. Smedley had no trouble in recognizing me. So perhaps you'd better be packing your grip again, Cousin Randolph, and returning to your secret Government duties over in France!"

"But—how could you have reached here so far ahead of me?" gritted the disgusted Randolph weakly.

"Please don't forget that I'm an aviator, and we fliers are able to put over all sorts of stunts these days," laughed Jack; though his manner implied that he might be joking when saying this. At any rate, it could not enter the mind of any one to believe such a thing as flying across the Atlantic within the bounds of reason.

Carringford of course saw that his room was more desired than his company. Besides, he had not heart or desire to linger any longer, since he had received such a staggering blow.

Accordingly he took his departure, and acted quite like a "bear with a sore head," as Jack described his ugly way of slamming the door and hurrying out to the station hack that had been all this while waiting for him at the gate.

Now that the one great object which Jack had in view was accomplished, he and the other two began to consider the best way in which they could return to France without attracting too much attention.

"I have a scheme that may work admirably," said Beverly. "And it happens that the boat my good old friend is master of is due to sail from New York the day after to-morrow. We'll go on that as stowaways."

Then, seeing the look of astonishment and also bewilderment that came into the faces of his hearers, he went on to explain further.

"Of course I don't use that word in the usual sense of getting aboard unknown to any of the officers, perhaps through the complicity of a member of the crew, and hiding ourselves among the cargo. Such stowaways are a scarcity nowadays, the peril of torpedoes having given them cold feet. But I believe I can fix it with my friend the captain so that he'll allow us to remain aboard without our names appearing on the passenger list."

"Sounds good to me," asserted Jack, while Tom said thoughtfully:

"I suppose we could stick to our staterooms during the day, and only go on deck late at night, when nearly everybody was asleep. Like as not, there'd be quite a number of army officers aboard, so we mightn't be noticed if any one ran against us while taking the air at night."

Accordingly this plan was settled upon; and as they were not absolutely certain about the time of sailing, with much still to be done before that event took place, once again did Tom and Jack have to bid their relatives good-bye.

"It'll not be for so very long now, let's hope," said Tom's father, as he squeezed his son's hand at parting; "for Germany is on her last legs, and unless all signs fail the war must soon come to an end."

"Besides," added Lieutenant Beverly, "none of us is likely to try to repeat the little flight we just carried through. We feel as if we can rest on our well earned laurels."

"And it'll be some time, I firmly believe," said Mr. Raymond, "before your wonderful feat is duplicated, or even approached." But then, of course, he could not foresee how even before the peace treaty had been signed a number of ambitious aviators would actually cross the Atlantic, one crew in a huge heavier-than-air machine, another in an American seaplane, and still a third aboard a mighty dirigible, making the passages with but a day or so intervening between flights.

When a certain steamship left New York harbor one morning soon afterwards three pairs of eyes took a parting look through a porthole in their united stateroom at the Statue of Liberty on Bedloe's Island.

Of course the occupants of the stateroom were Tom and Jack and Colin. They had managed to interest the big-hearted captain in their scheme. He knew that he must not appear to be connected with such an escapade; but such was his admiration for their wonderful achievement, as well as his friendship for Lieutenant Beverly, that he readily consented to help them.

"And so here we are," Jack observed, after they had passed out from Sandy Hook and were heading across toward troubled Europe, "going back to duty, before our leave of absence will have expired, and the three weeks already nearly half over. Let's only hope we can slip into the traces as if nothing unusual had happened and that mad flight was only an aviator's day dream."

"It's a pleasure, too," added Tom reflectively, with a glance at his chum, "to know that there are loyal hearts waiting to greet us again over there where the shells are bursting. For of course Nellie and Bessie, not to mention Harry Leroy, will be counting the days anxiously until we show up. Little do they suspect all we've been through; and we'll have to bind them to secrecy when taking them into the game."

"H'm!" chuckled Lieutenant Beverly, "perhaps there's a little Salvation Army lassie I, myself, will be glad to see again. Don't fancy you two have cornered the whole market of fine girls. There are others over there!"

So we will leave them, only hoping that at some other day we may once more meet Tom and Jack and Colin, and accompany them through other activities.

THE END