"But you can never count on what Fritz will do, or when he'll begin," remarked Blaine. Then as the girl went on, Erwin sat down suddenly as if something within him had all at once given way.

"Keep still, Mr. Erwin," she cautioned. "You're not well vet. As I was saving we got through the lines all right. If either my sister or the Baron had gone, they would have been made prisoners at least. I was a Red Cross nurse. We had done good work over there and even the Germans were well disposed. But if it wasn't for Brenda, I hardly know how we'd have managed Brenda is a — a whole team, you know." She pressed her servant's worn hand as she continued. "We reached the chateau, secured the papers with out much trouble, for Brenda, being an old family servitor, knew where to find them. That very night, while we were in these underground rooms, the Germans began dropping bombs all about.

"It appeared that the Allies from over our way had gotten to raiding behind the lines, not knowing we were here, of course. Otherwise they would not have begun, for the Baron is highly respected among the Belgians and other Allies Why not? He is one of their King Albert's main leaders. Well, after that we simply had a terrible time. First one side, then the other would either fight overhead, or pass to and fro, dropping bombs here and there. Oh, it was terrible!"

"Poor child!" This from Brenda. "She no harm no one; but dem Boche, he no care what he do or where he do it. Ally not know either."

"Well, we have been here ever since. Now you have come, perhaps we may somehow find a way to get out."

Here Stanley suddenly entered, looking strangely resolved. Above, the explosive noises had gradually died out. Looking at Blaine, he said:

"Lafe, I have fixed up that German's Fokker All it needs is more gasoline and there's still some in your tank and Orry's. If you don't care, I'll fly that Fokker over our lines before morning and manage to bring some help. Neither of you are strong enough to go and I understand Fokkers pretty well. What say?"

"That won't do at all," exclaimed Erwin, making another violent effort not only to stand but to walk. All at once he tottered and would have fallen, but Brenda caught him, placing him back on the cot.

"That'll do for you, Orris," began Blaine. "Shucks! I feel quite pert. Just you watch me!"

But it turned out that Blaine was, if anything, weaker than his friend, and silence gave consent to his first proposal. Even Miss Daskam assented, adding: "I hope when you do return with help, sir, that it will be sufficient to enable Brenda and me to accompany you."

For the first time Stanley seemed to catch the wistfulness in her eyes and tone. He impulsively took her hand, saying:

"Believe me, Miss Aida — Daskam, I mean," (She had already whispered to him her full name), "if any of us gets back out of this mess, you may be sure you will be among them —"

"And Brenda, too?"

"Brenda, too! If I know anything of our folks back at the aerodrome, we will have plenty of help."

In another minute he was gone. Brenda went with him to help about the gasoline, and in an short time, under her pilotage, he reached an open spot where he could rise.

They heard the whirring of his wings; he was gone.



CHAPTER XIV

TWO PERILOUS NIGHT TRIPS

It may be said that, once up in the air, Stanley lost no time in heading into the west-southwest. He knew the way, and though it was yet hardly midnight, he divined the safest way for him to make the familiar aerodrome was to get there as soon as possible, regardless of consequences. The night, though foggy, was sufficiently starlight to aid in his sense of direction. It was hardly likely that there would be further bombing raids that night, but one was never certain what the Boches might attempt. Witness their recent raid upon the old chateau, although they might know that planes had recently landed there.

After the North Sea Wind fog, a general calm had settled down upon that death-scarred region. Over the front and about No-Man's-Land an occasional flare or star-shell would go up. One of these came unusually close to the swiftly moving Fokker. Immediately after that came bombing from Archies stationed along the enemy front. Among these some, either accidentally or by design, sent bursting shrapnel all around him. He heard the wings being struck repeatedly but, knowing his great speed, he hoped to be out of range almost at once.

With the sound of big guns the whole front was lighted up here and there with flares and starshells, many being sent up from shell holes concealed from all but their own side.

More than that; for Stanley, leaning far over to scan the earth below, suddenly saw men rushing some kind of a gun up a steep incline. Where was that? It could not be the Appincourte Bluff, for that was now in our hands. But he recalled another elevation near the small stream behind.

"Can it be the Boches have tunneled to that former another advancing post?"

Further thought was interrupted by a brilliant flash and a dull report just underneath. At the same time he felt sharp stings pierce his arms now stretched outside the fuselage as he leaned over. Something like a needle seemed to pierce his brain. In the same instant he was aware that in his eagerness to reach the base quickly, he had permitted his plane to approach the earth a great deal nearer than before.

He was tilting his rudder upward, while feeling at once that he was about all in. But feverishly he gripped wheel and controls, more with feet than hands, for he was growing more helpless each passing second. The flashings below had shattered into many small scintillations as they shot upward, while something sharp and metallic was rattling among his planes.

But he was mounting, he knew that. Dizzily, he managed mechanically to turn the plane towards where he knew the broad aerodrome was situated.

"Hope they haven't hit my tank," he maundered. "I — I'll get there —" But that was all he did say, for unconsciousness was coming fast.

At the same time he sensed somehow that the Fokker — already well peppered by his own crowd on that same day — was listing, sagging, so that at last he could hardly keep his seat.

"I — I'm goin' — goin'," he kept reiterating in his mind. "Goin' - go'n — go —" He lapsed into complete unconsciousness, with his last sentient movement pressing the wheel and controls downward and towards the left, where he finally half fell, as we have seen before.

Byers and the orderly bore him quickly to the near-by dormitory, where many of the fliers were temporarily lodged. Senator Walsen and the girls followed, while some of the mechanics attended to the crippled Fokker.

In almost no time the surgeon on duty was there with two of the Red Cross nurses. Though unconscious, Stanley was restless, uneasy, evidently worrying. He muttered unintelligibly, tried to break forth more loudly, but for the present was unable to make any meaning clear to the others.

"What gets me," remarked Byers while watching the deft manipulations of the surgeon and the nurses, "is how he came here alone and in such a rig. Why, that Fokker must have been taken from Fritzy! Why didn't he return in one of our own machines? Where are the others? I tell you, Senator, there is trouble afoot; I feel it in my bones!"

As may be imagined, both Andra and Avella were much concerned, though neither would admit it to the other or, for that matter, to any one else. Only once Andra, clinging to her sister, whispered timidly:

"Sup — suppose this poor chap never does revive, Vella? How will we ever know?"

"We've got to know, Andra. Got to — that's all I can say!"

By these two whisperings aside each girl was conscious of betraying to the other some sign of that deep, sudden interest with which at least two of these dashing young aviators had inspired them. And they, the fair daughters of a United States Senator! Verily strange and surprising are the freaks of Cupid. But of this more later. The physician was still busy over the slowly reviving patient, when the watchful orderly hurried in to where the captain was watching and waiting.

"I thought I better go out and take a look, sir. While I was out at the observation there came some signal flares out of the nor'-nor'east. I wasn't certain, sir, so I waited. Along came another flash, adding our most private code signal. After that I dared not hesitate, nor had I time to run to you without answering. So I - so I —"

"So you answered, eh? Well, that's all right. Did you show a flare, also in code?"

"You bet, sir! I think it's one of our missing men that may have lost his way. Better come out with me. He'll be landing next."

Without another word Byers accompanied the orderly out to a point near the observation post, and almost instantly they heard the whir of approaching wings, evidently spiraling down from greater heights.

"Give him a light lad." said Byers to the orderly. "He knows where we are, but in this black night he might hit some building or the fence.

Down on the gravel ran the assistant, followed by Byers, who saw the flare go up. In a minute a tattered triplane emerged into the light and made an easy landing not far from where the unconscious Stanley had previously been carried from his Fokker to the casual dormitory.

Almost before they reached it two of the night watch among the mechanics arrived and lifted out our old friend Buck Bangs from Idaho. He was unconscious, the cause being a body bullet wound on the right side, the bullet being later found bedded in the back of the seat in his Nieuport.

The machine was riddled even worse than Stanley's Fokker, but fortunately not in any vital parts, nor had the planes, though perforated like a sieve in many spots, been injured in any way to impair their vitality for the frames and joints were all right.

"Take him up to the Casual Dormitory boys," ordered Byers. "Careful! We don't know how badly he is hurt."

Up they bore him, leaving the machine where it stood. Into the dormitory he was carried and laid on a vacant bed near the now recovering Stanley. The latter had shown signs of resuscitation and now, as they bore in poor Buck, his head hanging helplessly, his limbs limp and unstrung, Stanley opened his eyes for the first time. They fell upon Buck, on whom the full light happened to shine brightly.

"Buck — there's Buck!" gasped the wounded observer. "Where'd he come from?"

At this instant Vella, happening to glance up, saw Buck's pallid face as it rested on the arm of one of his supporters who was helping to place him on the ready cot. She gave a convulsive gasp, seized Andra by the arm and pushed forward, hardly sensible of where she was, but only that this youth from the State next to her own was apparently fatally stricken.

"Stay with me, Andra," she murmured. "I may faint. I don't want to say! Is he alive? Oh, Andra; does he live?"

Fully alive to the peculiar exigencies of the situation, and deeply sympathizing with Avella, Andra clung to and supported her sister until both were themselves again. Thereafter they watched, helped when they could, and as a rule kept as quiet as mice. It was really a ticklish situation for two young girls, both among the elite of official society in Washington, though transferred of their own volition to strange scenes and duties in this foreign land. Sisterly always, they now clung together more than usual.

"Is — is poor Buck dead?" asked Stanley, gaining strength with each word. "He left us to raid some more Boches and — and get help."

"The young man is all right." This from the surgeon who had just finished his examination. "He will pull through with good nursing. It's a bullet wound between the ribs and I f ear, although I'm not certain yet, that in passing it pierced the lungs. It has gone out at his back, near the shoulder, and that's a good thing. Leaves a clean Wound."

By degrees Buck was brought to, revived by a tonic, braced up by a subtle injection of some kind, after which his wound was carefully, thoroughly, and scientifically dressed.

Laying back after this, the first person on whom his sleepy eyes opened was Stanley, now raised on one elbow, so strong had he already grown, regarding Bangs much as one might look at some one supposed to be dead, but returned to life.

"Hello, Buck!" Stanley actually tried to sit up in bed. "When we saw you put out up in them clouds, I sure thought you were a goner!"

Buck weakly shook his bead, but was restrained by the nurse from trying to talk. "No use!" he whispered wearily. Then his eyes sought that sweet girl again . She was still looking at him. He gave a sigh of satisfaction and almost immediately fell asleep.

All at once Stanley seemed to remember what he had come through a flying death for. He cursed his forgetfulness, then said aloud:

"I want to see Captain Byers. It — it's important. Please send for him."

But Byers, already alert, was stepping close and; saying:

"If it is important, go ahead. But if it can wait —"

"But — it can't wait, Captain," pleaded Stanley. "They sent me 'cause they couldn't come. All our planes were bombed from overhead. Had to use Fritzy's little old Fokker after we got him and his machine. Believe me, they're a tight place, and there's two women with 'em, one of them an American girl from Chicago; t'other a good old Belgian."

"Go ahead, my man," urged Byers.

Thereupon Stanley, refreshed by a mug of real Red Cross French wine, proceeded to relate a succinctly as he could all that the reader now knows Irwin, and Bangs, so far as Stanley had known. Also their varied adventures after following the defeated Hun down amid the ruins of the old baronial chateau.

"Believe me, sir, they are in bad shape," continued Stanley earnestly. "Both them chaps are clean knocked out for the time being, though I know they will be able to travel by the time we get back there."

"You say there are women there, too?"

"Yes, sir; two of 'em. One is sister to the wife of the Belgian baron who owns the whole chateau and estate. They got a permit somehow and came through the lines; but in view of recent troubles around there they don't know how to get back. "I'm sure sorry for them."

"What did they go there for, knowing the Germans controlled all that territory? Had they no better sense?"

"So far as I could understand, they went in the first place for some important papers hid away there, and which the Boches don't know of."

"Private papers or papers pertaining to the, war?"

"Don't know, sir. All I know is that they said, they had left safe and were to bring them back if they ever do got back."

Of course the surrounding group were listening. Among these was a runty, pockmarked, weasel-eyed little chap who went by the name of Pete, and whom was not much thought of, being considered by those who knew him best to be more than half German by blood. Be this as it may, he now began to edge outward from the group and gradually gravitated towards a side door.

However, he was already watched, and by no less a one than Byers' orderly. Ever since the escape of Hans, every one suspected of German connections had been under secret but thorough espionage. When Pete went out at one door the orderly emerged at the other in time to see Pete making for the observation post.

"What can the fool want there?" wonder the orderly. In less than a minute he was satisfied for, drawing from his pocket a peculiar flare Pete lighted and sent it up, where it shivered into different colored flashes, doubtless some kind of cheap signal to warn his countrymen that some big was up. Perhaps also a signal for some one to meet Pete somewhere. But the orderly had even less patience than discretion. In two more minutes he had Pete under arrest and bound for the guard house. One of the mechanics aided the orderly and despite Pete's protests, he was shut up for the night.

When Byers was told of the matter he first stared, then frowned, and finally laughed, saying:

"I forgot that you had only been on duty here for a few days. When I am detained here late, I have Pete or some of the hands send up a certain kind of flare right down to where I live. That warns 'em I won't be back before breakfast. Now trot right back now and let Pete out, sending him to me. He knows this neighborhood where Blaine and Erwin are now. We may need him -and need him bad."

Much crestfallen, the orderly obeyed, finding Pete fast asleep in a corner, nor much put out when he found what a mistake had been made.

When they reached the gravelly levels near the hangars, two of the largest biplanes in the aerodrome were already drawn up ready. In each of these planes an experienced pilot was in the act of taking his seat. One of these pilots was Byers himself.

"Come here, you, Pete!" called the captain, half laughing at Pete's perplexed face. "You in here with me — see?"

"You take me to Boche 'stead of black-hole? I no do harm anyone."

Pete spoke in a whining, ingratiating tone, but Byers only laughed, saying:

"You are right, Pete. A mistake was made." Then turning to Stanley, who had insisted on coming for final admonitions, "This is my friend Pete, once servant of Baron Savahl. That I know. He is small and light. He will guide us with the assistance that you, Stanley, have given me. Brodno also is particularly well acquainted with that part of the Belgian frontier. Get in, Pete!"

"But, Captain, how can we spare you?" This from Stanley anxiously.

"You will have to spare me. Sergeant Anson is handy, too. In the early morning, if you see signs of our return, it would be well to send out a few scouts. But we shall return. Those plans are too important to King Albert of Belgium and our Allies here to risk any more uncertainties than can be avoided."

"Are you sure of what you speak? I thought, from what those women said, that they were private papers."

"Private they may be, in a sense. But they are important enough to all of us, when you consider how vital they are to certain knowledge necessary for our leaders to have in regard to a further offensive which I believe is contemplated. Now back to bed, boy. You've warned us and we who are well will do all that is needful."

About this time Brodno, waiting impatiently, gave a signal and the plane, propelled along gravel by mechanics, soon rose lightly in the air. Byers, having hauled Pete in, followed suit, waving good-night to Senator Walsen and the ladies. In another minute both big biplanes were lost to sight, so swiftly did they vanish in a easterly course under the starlit heavens, shimmer of gray haze hugging the lower just above the earth.



CHAPTER XV

MAKING READY FOR ANOTHER FORWARD DRIVE

After Stanley's sudden departure from the ruined chateau, the two boys fretted ineffectually. Stanley was an observer, not a real pilot; he might get into trouble; so worried first one and then the other.

"It seems to me, gentlemen," began Miss Daskam, "that instead of fretting over this you better remain quiet and thus regain your strength the sooner. We may need it yet."

"Allons, madame," began Brenda, speaking to the girl, yet carefully refraining from looking at either of the boys, "we cannot tell what time the Boches may break in on us. After that young man went up in the German plane, I am sure I heard the sound of far-away explosions. We are between the lines, yet off to one side, where the enemy are fond of raiding. It was so a year ago when some of us still made our home in or close to the chateau. We didn't mind the raiding. All they did was to rob us of what little stock we had left. But now, since they began the bombing that has finally ruined the Baron's home, nothing and no one is safe. Ah — what is that?"

But it was nothing much; yet it only typified the general nervousness of the situation. Distant firing along the course they figured that Stanley would take tended to make even the boys uncertain as to whether he would get home or not.

"Anyhow, we may as well make up our minds to have to stick it out here at least until tomorrow, or more likely tomorrow night. If they come they must come in force, or we will never be able to make a get-away." Thus spoke Erwin.

After more or less futile remonstrance, discussion and what not, they finally settled down for the remainder of the night, the boys insisting upon giving up the only habitable room to the women, though the latter urged that the young men take at least a blanket or so along. Blaine, being somewhat the stronger, declared that he would remain on watch for the first two hours, adjuring Erwin to get all the sleep he could.

"Another thing; we haven't got much grub along. I don't know how much the women have, but if it is scarce we must remember them."

In five minutes Orris was breathing heavily, taking full toll of slumber, for he was not so very strong and the day's happenings had exhausted him greatly. Blaine sought shelter under another angle of the basement, and after a vigorous struggle against somnolence, finally dropped off.

After that the old ruin was silent. Midnight passed. Unceasing silence reigned. Suddenly there came a sound of planes coming down from the upper air.

Finally a fretful voice rose up stridently, recklessly, saying through a muffled megaphone:

"Ho, there — below! Start up a flare — a light, anything, so we can know where and how to land."

Fortunately Erwin, who had really slept the longest, was roused by the closing words. He heard the sound of wings above, and at once apprehended. He had no flare, and no means at immediately to make a light. What should he do? Suddenly he remembered that Blaine carried a brilliant hand searchlight. In another instant he was rummaging about among Blaine's personal effects where he lay snoring.

"G'way — what you doin'? Who are ye, anyhow?"

While so ran the sleeper's drowsy remonstrances Erwin secured the searchlight, and an instant later was sending its white rays upward. A minute later the black shadow of a huge bi plane hovered in a circle over the wide expanse of what once had been a trim lawn, but was now a desert of dirt, ashes, and crumbling masonry loosened from the walls.

Meantime the added noise, further awakening Blaine, sent him scurrying to rekindle the dying fire they had made earlier in the night. By the time this was blazing one plane had alighted and the other was settling down further out. From these big planes stepped Captain Byers and Sergeant Brodno, both nervous, watchful, alert, and very wide awake.

To say the boys were pleased to see them would be to put it mildly. In a few words the state in which Stanley and Bangs had reached the Station was told, when Byers, evidently on edge by the peculiar situation wherein they were now involved, spoke up sharply.

"Where is that Chicago girl with her attendant? Also those papers? And how is it that I find you two so sleepy, way out here in the midst of the Boches? Don't you know we've had all sorts of trouble dodging in here so they wouldn't catch on? Oh — h! Who is that?"

Captain Byers whirled and found that he was confronting a smiling young girl, already bundled up as if for a journey. Behind her stood the substantial form of Brenda, also well wrapped against the night's chill and mist.

Confusedly Blaine presented the captain and Brodno, the latter grinning amusedly. In fact, this affair had been more of a lark to the American Pole than to Byers, who was oppressed with a sense of responsibility.

"We'll have to divide up, and at once," said the captain. "In fact, ever since Erwin used that searchlight to show me the way down, I haven't felt that we were safe here. Therefore I say all aboard just as soon as we can be loaded in — what is that?" as a sharp staccato of shocks rose from Brodno's machine, the result of his tinkering with his air-exhaust. Even as he made haste to stop them, time being all important, Byers was placing the two women in his own plane, saying:

"It will be crowded, but you can stand that for a time, I guess. But — say! Hold on! I forgot. You have some important papers somewhere?"

"Yes. Brenda has them in her bosom. You may be sure we did not forget those. Are they all right, Brenda?"

But here Brenda jumped up in the observer's manhole, and began hastily fumbling among the folds of her ample garb. With a sudden half scream she sprang out, seized the searchlight from the astonished Erwin and made a dash for the basement again.

"Is what she is after important?" asked Erwin of Miss Daskam, who was fidgeting uneasily. The girl nodded, adding:

"It may be; I cannot tell. How careless! Among those papers are some very important plans that have reference, I think, to things our side wished to do later on. Oh, dear! Will we ever get away?"

"God knows — I hope so. It seems I hear sounds to the eastward. Ah — there they come again!"

Both Brenda and the captain, who had followed her, were returning. He was stuffing a paper which Brenda had surrendered after some persuasion into his breast pocket.

"All in!" called Byers. "No time to lose now."

Again the women reentered the captain's machine, who at once started off along the level, open ground, at the same time calling on the men to use the searchlight so he might rise successfully. Up they went, and right after them came Brodno, with Blaine and Orris, now in the observer's seat, feeling more comfortable as be laid his hand on the Lewis gun ready to his use. Brodno had another. Both were listening to the sounds which Erwin had noticed when with Miss Aida. Byers passed them with a gentle rustling as of wings.

"Boys," he called back, "our defense rests mainly upon you. I have not only these women to see after but also papers — papers most important to our side in the next offensive. Of course I'll fight, if I have to. But the main thing is to get safely back and —"

His further words were lost on the wind as the captain raced ahead, bound as straight as possible for their own lines.

"We will keep right on his tail, boys," said Brodno. "That noise behind is Fritzy starting on a raid, no doubt. If he gets too close we must either keep him back or lead him off after us."

The noise of whirring propellers increased rapidly. Doubtless scouting planes were out. As a rule, they are faster than the big biplanes. In view of this, Byers presently began to mount higher, the rear plane maintaining its level with a view of attracting the notice of the pursuing Germans. Then came a spatter of machine gun bullets that rattled about their ears until Blaine, from his rear position, opened on the Boches in turn.

After that the pursuit of Byers ceased, for Blaine and Brodno, with their two weapons, aided by Erwin, who manipulated a Lee-Enfield rifle, kept the three scouts busy for a time. A plane is a shaky place from which to aim a rifle, but Orris, having had much practice at the training butts, soon laid out one lone pilot and his scout went trailing guideless out of range and action.

But about this time there came the heavier rumble of Archies from below, and presently shrapnel began tearing into the wings of the biplane.

"Up we go, boys!" said Brodno. "I guess Byers must be well on over by now."

But about this time they heard the sounds of gun spatter far up above, and mounting rapidly they saw two more Fokker scouts trailing after Byers, who not only mounted still higher, but put Pete at the aft machine gun, taking Miss Aida over inside his own manhole.

We haven't said much about Pete, for he was really timid, and lay low wherever he was placed, without a word. But when he came over where Brenda was and that sturdy Belgian watched his timid attempts to fire the machine gun, she was disgusted.

"Pete, you no good! Have you forgot how the Baron hated a coward? Let me in there!" She shoved Pete aside, took charge of the gun herself and presently Byers was gratified to hear its active rattle as Brenda rather clumsily yet effectually opened upon the Germans. Pete assisted, handing fresh sheaves of ammunition and otherwise making himself useful.

"Where you been, Pete?" she asked. "Why you leave us all?"

"I wanted to learn to fly. Americaines, they give me a chance."

The other plane, now spiraling upward, came within range of the Fokkers, and altogether the united firing from the two big biplanes was too much for the Boches, so they gradually retired with a loss of one plane, whose pilot Erwin had disposed of, as we have seen.

Half an hour later they quietly dropped down at the aerodrome. The first gray hues of morning were just diffusing a lighter pallor and the stars were already dimming when on the deserted levels in front of the hangars the biplanes finally came to rest. Then out from a sentry box came the captain's orderly, who seemed much astonished.

"Well, sir, I didn't look for you all back so soon. I rather feared that you might have to remain away another day."

"We had ladies to look after," remarked Byers. "That made us hurry back sooner. Here is Pete, of whom you thought such dreadful things. Pete is learning. Now, while we take Miss Daskam and her maid to their quarters, I want you to go to the through line to Dunkirk, and ask for Baron Suvahl. He should be somewhere about there, if we have been rightly informed."

After that the captain with characteristic courtesy took the two tired yet grateful women to the women's Red Cross station and left them in kindly, congenial company. It was here Senator Walsen and his daughters were staying. When they and Miss Aida became acquainted at breakfast next morning it was astonishing how many mutual acquaintances they discovered, yet mostly back in the dear old country across the ocean.

About the middle of the morning a tall, spare, resolute young man, accompanied by a plainly garbed lady, his wife, met Captain Byers at the latter's office. Simultaneously there came two other personages plainly garbed in Belgian costume, yet most distinguished aside from that.

There was a certain respect, almost deference, in the way Baron Suvahl and his wife met the King, for one of the visitors was really King Albert of Belgium. His wife, the queen, was even more democratic. In fact, in the manner of all, including the Americans, was that which marked them as fully tinctured with the true democratic spirit that this war has so fully brought out among all the Allies.

Several of the British and French generals dropped in. And there were sundry secret and semi-secret conferences, one result of which was the sending out that night of a number of our airmen on secret scouting trips, none of which, however, resulted in much aerial fighting but embraced a deal of sly spying upon enemy positions and also various "look-ins" behind the lines.

Among other things Erwin, Blaine, Bangs, Brodno and others were adjured by both Captain Byers and Sergeant Anson to be ready with their machines for real active service at any time.

On the second night came a quiet meeting between certain French, British, and American commanders. As the boys in the aerodrome sauntered about the grounds, noting the drawn shades in the windows of the headquarters office, and marking the lateness of the hour before the consultation closed, they felt that things were drawing to a head on that sector, and that they, the eyes of the army, would be expected to do their part and even more, if necessary.

Senator Walsen, instead of going back to the capital as he had intended, was drawn into the conference, while the ladies remained quiescent but more and more expectant, though of what they hardly knew. Perhaps the good young queen expressed the general sentiment among her sex, when she said to the small group gathered about her at the half shabby quarters where she and the king temporarily received their friends,

"We never know much as to what is about to go on, but we are always warned never to be unduly surprised at anything. Always make the best of everything — that is all we can do and what we must do.



CHAPTER XVI

THE CONFLICT

For another day many quiet yet suggestive movements were made in the vicinity of these headquarters where most of the activities of this tale have taken place. That night secret word went out among certain picked birdmen that they were to be ready that night for literally anything

"What do you think is up, anyhow?" asked Erwin, who had been busy with a mechanic nearly all that day putting his favorite scouting flier machine in complete readiness.

"How should I know?" snapped Anson, hurrying by. "We know we gotter be ready any old time, night or day. I 'opes I may niver see Blighty ag'in though, ef I don't think we're in fer somp'in' damn big and hard." And he passed on, vouchsafing Orris a wink that might mean anything.

That next night other planes from near-by sectors began flitting in here, there, until, with the planes already at the aerodrome, there must have been at least fifty of the various types of battle and scouting planes on hand. Many of the airmen were French, many British, not a few Americans, inclusive of the Lafayette Escadrille, composed mainly of men from overseas.

The early evening passed, the dark hours flitted by, and so came midnight with a long line of planes stretched far and wide over that war-scarred expanse. Here and there the pilots had gathered in little groups, receiving their last instructions from majors, captains, lieutenants, even sergeants of the various aviation corps or squads who had, in turn, received theirs from commands higher up.

Some of these groups were studying maps and photographs which had been made by recent reconnaissance trips and prepared for distribution among those whose task it was to proceed along the various lines thus indicated.

One group near the center of the line deserves attention. There was Erwin, Blaine, Bangs, Brodno, all seemingly in fine fettle, gathered over sundry maps, photos, and instructions. Amid these was Captain Byers, somewhat at the rear, conferring with Senator Walsen, who had still deferred his return to Paris, more than likely through the persuasions of his daughters.

Where were they? Let us look more closely among the airmen. Who is that whispering coyly to Sergeant Bangs, who stands cap in hand, despite the frosty night air? He talks earnestly, rapidly, western fashion, ending with"

"I don't know bow I shall come out of all this! But I do know that Montana and Idaho are side by side. May I come to see you then?"

"Yes, provided that neither you nor Mr. Blaine forget that Paris leave which I feel sure you will get." And Avella Walsen blushed prettily. "But I must go back to father now. Good-bye."

She was gone, flitting towards the rear not unlike a star gleam in Buck's eyes as she vanished, leaving him to sigh regretfully.

Near by Andra Walsen had taken an almost tearful leave of stalwart Ensign Blaine, now completely restored, and naturally keyed up by a prevision of the night's probable happenings.

Further to the right both Brodno and Erwin, still fussing round their respective planes, were interrupted by no less a personage than the Belgian Queen, accompanied by Baroness Suvahl and her sister, Miss Daskam, who had come round to them on their night round of visiting encouragement which they were making among their acquaintances that night.

"We are so glad to see you boys on duty again," said the Queen, who was most unassuming and kindly in manner. "Both the King and the Baron had to leave again for our front, but I persuaded them to let us bid you lads good cheer and Godspeed in your risky night's adventure."

Meanwhile Miss Daskam was whispering to Erwin:

"Do you remember the last night at the chateau, how you would not take all the quilts I wanted you to, though the night was cold and we had plenty?"

"Indeed I do, miss!" Orris was grinning now. "I just knew we did not leave you and Brenda enough! Did we, Brenda?"

Turning to that stalwart guardian in petticoats who watched over the two sisters from Chicago, one of whom had married a Belgian nobleman, Brenda shrugged her massive shoulders.

"You must ask Mademoiselle Aida. I was mooch too warm; yes, vera mooch. Yes la — la! We Flemings know what cold is more than what it is to be too — too warm. Don' you bodder, sar!"

And so the many more or less friendly, even solicitous conversations went on until the midnight hour had fled. By then the groups of friends and visitors had melted back to the rear into the misty regions where lay the small French village that had sheltered them together with the aerodrome itself.

It might have been one o'clock or later when a bugle sounded. Up and down the long, long line aviators were scrambling into their machines while the sputter and throb of many engines punctured the night air. Some of these engines had as much as three hundred horse-power. The long continuing roar was nerve grating, yet inspiring. Swarms of small scouting machines were humming, spitting; these were the vipers or wasps of the air service.

The fleet commander and his observer had taken their places and soared into the night air. The other machines, some fifty odd in number, swiftly followed him into the misty heavens, all maneuvering like a flock of swallows until the air formation was at last right. Then a crack from the commander's revolver, and they were off like bees, following the queen, straight for the far-off enemy lines.

Much ammunition had been distributed, for they were going on a general bombing and foraging expedition over those trenches upon which the now ready offensive was to be let loose. Dimly they rose up, up, still up, six thousand, eight, even ten thousand feet, the last height mainly for the fighting scouts, the battle and bombing machines keeping lower down.

Over No-Man's-Land they flew towards the battle-torn trenches behind which lay the Boches. Tiny specks began to rise up far to the eastward in the German rear. They were the enemy planes coming to meet them. In number they seemed to be somewhat equal to our own fleet. The Allies might have fought these, but such was not the present game. They were there to protect their side; while the Allies were out first to destroy, to smash the morale of the soldiers below, to shatter and mutilate and terrorize those in the trenches before our infantry, now probably starting out, should be where their own conclusive work would begin.

Those lads whom we have followed through these pages were flying close together, keeping well to the front, watching signals from the commander and ready, more than ready, each to do his part. With Blaine was Stanley, his observer, both closely watching. When over the first line trenches, they at once let go the first rack of bombs. All the other planes, in accord with their individual capacity, did the same. A veritable hell beneath was let loose by that swiftly moving line. Lower down came the signals and more racks of bombs were let loose. So swift were their movements that one might hardly see what results were being obtained; but from the yells, shrieks, explosions and clouds of debris below, it was evident that the destruction was great.

Lower and lower still they flew. Blaine's control was perfect. So was that of his subordinates. Bangs himself, excited yet steady as a clock, was talking to his plane as a cowboy might talk to his pony. Machine guns could now be used most effectively. The cleaned, burnished mechanism was already vomiting death. in showers upon the trenches below. Their spitting, purring roars were drowning out the whir of the engines.

All at once Blaine saw to his left a spurt of flame shoot upward from below, and almost simultaneously a blinding glare arose from Brodno's plane. For an instant he caught sight of the Polish face, ashen gray as the night above, under which the fight was going on. His petrol tank had been hit from an Archie below and exploded. Another burst of flame and his plane swooped dizzily towards the mangled earth below.

"God help him!" gasped Lafe. "That must be the end of poor Brodno!"

Down it went, zigzagging crazily. All at once it dropped like a plummet. For an instant Blaine felt sick; then he recovered. His own situation, and that of Stanley, Erwin, Bangs and the rest was not less risky. Yet only one thing was there to do. Fight it out — fight it out, to victory — or death.

Then all at once the German planes were upon them. Where and how they came was a matter of indifference. The thing was to meet and fight, to out-maneuver them if possible. In another minute they were dodging, diving, eluding, darting among each other, inextricably intermingled, yet now, on the whole, rising higher. Just over to the right of Blaine one of the Boche fliers was already dropping to the earth. Blaine saw and noted the cause. It was Erwin, rising from a dexterous side-loop to higher elevation, yet peering over at his fallen foe.

"Good boy," murmured the ensign. "He'll do! No use to worry about flying position now. It's fight or die!"

What the Allies mainly cared about now was to dodge the enemy fliers, and still pour the remainder of their explosives down upon the mangled trenches until the Allied infantry should come up. By this time Stanley, back at his old post, was whirling round on his seat for more racks of bombs. He had already used his own machine gun with deadly effect. Blaine was reaching for another drum of ammunition for his Lewis when he saw Stanley lurch forward. He was hit. Not a word though; not even a struggle.

"My Gawd, man!" called Blaine. "Are you hit bad? Slip down under cover!"

No reply as the observer slowly sagged back and down into the manhole.

Then a sudden rage filled the stalwart American. He loved Stanley, who he knew was game to the core. Just then a German machine sped by full tilt, sending spatters of bullets right and left. Instantly Blaine tried the tail-dip, always risky yet worth while if successful. Doubling under the tail of the passing Boches — there were two of' them in the machine — Blaine came up right under the German's propeller, his own gun in straight line for the center of the other's fuselage. As he came up he began a spatter of bullets that fairly riddled the body of the big Taube, and directly thereafter came a burst of flame so bright and searching that Blaine had to dip again, sidewise to avoid its scorching significance. The German's tank was exploding and in a mass of flames the two men fell, the skeleton of their machine about them as the whole dropped to the earth.

Hardly had Blaine cleared this aerial ruin than came the commander's signal to retire. Somehow, after that, Lafe felt that in a measure he had a certain revenge from the Boches for poor Stanley's death; for Stanley was dead — no doubt of that. At least so Blaine thought.

Up he mounted and presently saw Buck Bangs engaged with a rather clumsy German, who seemed bent upon peppering Bangs and his machine full of holes. He flew to Buck's assistance, when the German straightened out and made for his own rear, with Bangs in full pursuit. In his present mood, instead of returning with the rest of the home squadron, Blaine took after the German, and for five minutes there was a mid-heaven race towards Belgium. But Bangs, in his small scout, was easily the fastest and soon he and the German were engaged in a running duel.

All at once Buck signaled to Blaine in code:

"Leave this Boche to me. There's a train off eastward. See if you can't do something. Get up higher: you'll see better."

Mutely Blaine obeyed and, as he rose up another thousand feet, he saw more than one row of cars, upon a single track hurrying towards the front, whence already the distant bellow of earthly struggles was going on. Evidently the big Allied offensive was on. If he, Blaine, could hinder the troop trains from reaching the front trenches, it might be a big help to the infantry, that was now attempting its part of the big stunt.

Straightway the biplane, with the body of Stanley still nestling in the bottom of the observer's, manhole, was shooting downward in a gradual slant towards the two trains. One of these was filled with soldiers, at least a brigade, for the train was a long one. The one ahead seemed to be loaded with munitions and with artillery on the rear cars.

Swooping down closer, Blaine laid his plan. When within three hundred feet he saw some Archies posted at a crossroads who at once began firing. In his present mood he would have cared little for any obstacle as yet untried.

Above the noise of his propellers he detected something behind, and, turning, what was his amazement to see Stanley's ashen gray face peering up over the observer's seat. Blaine was startled, as if he looked at a ghost.

"Get down, boy!" he adjured. "You ain't strong enough. Get down! I've got a stiff job just ahead. Give me time and room."

Whether Stanley understood or not Blaine was not certain. But just then the stricken man crumpled back again into his former nest at the bottom of the manhole. A slow groan came up.

"Poor chap! He's in misery, no doubt. But I've just got to try this job —"

Just then the Archies began to cut loose, but Blaine went to zigzagging, at the same time increasing his speed, swooping still lower — lower. At last directly over the front train, with machine guns, Archies, and rifles peppering away at him, he let go with one side of his bomb rack. With the sound of the resultant explosion he wheeled and let go the other.

Both racks landed directly upon the leading train loaded, as Blaine suspected, with all sorts of ammunition.

Instantly he pressed the upward controls and his machine darted on towards the rear just in time to escape the tremendous blaze and roar as that string of loaded cars began to explode one after another. The noise, flames and confusion were indescribable. Regardless of the still up flying shrapnel and shot, the daring man turned loose the controls and instantly whipped into place another rack or two of bombs.

By this time he was directly in the path and, right over the long troop train already slowing down to avoid collision with the exploding ammunition train. This in itself was almost impossible, so closely had one train followed the other, a most incautious thing to do.

He felt that his big spread of wings offered too great a bombarding surface to the forces at the crossroads below, but he was bound to finish the job so well begun, no matter what resulted to himself and Stanley.

Still further down he went, and at the pivotal instant began again with the first rack of bombs. Down they flow, crashing upon car after car. Though half conscious of something at his rear and left, he did not dream the cause until, turning, he saw Stanley's pallid face contracting with pain. The observer was shoving forward the second rack into the essential groove for firing. Blaine in his baste had missed fixing it in the notch necessary for accurate discharge. At untold bodily cost to himself Stanley had again risen and completed the task, just in time for the second rack to fall along the rear half of the train, the last bombs crashing into the rear engine pushing the heavy train from behind.

So far as could be seen from above the wrecking of the two trains was complete. Amid the din of exploding munitions rose the cries of hundreds of wounded, dying men, while the debris of the burning wreckage was strewn up and down the single track for a mile or more.

As Stanley sank back again, more deathlike than ever, Blaine put on all his power and strove to rise. Still roared the anti-aircraft guns, the machine guns and the rest of the snipers below; that is, all that were still on the job after the terrifying disaster so deftly accomplished by Blaine.

The biplane would not rise to any great degree. But it would travel at a gentle upward trend and as rapidly as ever.

Off he flew, more than anxious to get out of; range from the vengeful fire that pursued him.

Another groan from Stanley. Blaine, looking back, saw the lad crumpling up with a new red stain trickling down his scalp.

"How I would like to help him!" thought the pilot. "But the only chance for either of us is to keep on and get out of this hell."

For a wonder there did not appear any more Boche fliers, and as soon as he was outside the immediate range of the Archies, Blaine found that he was sailing northeastward over an opaquely indistinct expanse of country which he felt in his bones must be that of the foe.



CHAPTER XVII

BUCK AND THE BOCHE ALOFT

Meanwhile what had become of Buck Bangs, whom we left following the Boche flier that had first assaulted him, but who soon seemed to have enough of the game?

The truth was that Buck, who was plucky to the core, did not want to give up and return to the home base any more than did Blaine. Both were fighters and loath to abandon what looked like success as long as there seemed a chance to win out.

As he had told the Walsen girl once, when she remonstrated with him upon his temerity in the face of what more than once looked like certain death:

"Reckon I don't know that, miss? You bet I do! But, somehow, death don't come just then and — and I keep on riskin' some more. I - I guess I'm jest built that way."

The German, who was rather clumsy, kept on along his eastward flight, with Buck in hot pursuit. Getting closer, Bangs again opened up with his Lewis. What was his surprise to see the clumsy German crumple up in his seat and fall forward, his hands and part of his arms out of sight, as well as the other could see in the starlit night.

"I believe I got him at last," thought Buck, maneuvering to a closer position. "I'll fill him and his tank full of holes, then see what has happened."

But just before Buck came into position, the German's plane suddenly veered athwart the nose of the other and deftly dove almost directly downward. The turn was a surprise. But Buck instantly knew that no machine, unless some one was handling the controls, would do a thing like that. Instantly he knew that the clumsiness of that Boche must have been assumed for the purpose of inducing Bangs to follow, thus leading the two planes away from the Allied squadron.

"Fritzy is sharper than I gave him credit for being," thought Buck. "But he'll not get under me in that way without doing more stunts yet." Instantly the nimble scout machine darted upward, at the same time turning on its tail in such a way as to bring both opponents side by side with Buck now still higher up. By the time the German had gotten into a firing position Buck had his Nieuport slanted nose downward and pointing straight at the enemy. But scarcely had this been done, before the German was veering off to the left and sliding down, down with scarcely conceivable rapidity.

Instantly Buck was after him, and for several minutes the two spiraled, twisted, dove, looped and performed other aerial feats accomplished only by expert fliers. By this time both were undeceived as to the skill of their opponents. Each knew that his adversary was worthy of all the dexterity and strategy the other might employ.

And all this in the dark, as it were. That is, in the dark as darkness is in the upper air, a sort of transparent twilight, when the mists are either absent or the light haze is as a gauze curtain stretched between our eyes and an upper light beyond.

At length the German, no longer clumsy, but most expert, seemed to be waving something that looked white. Then came a low megaphone call that made Bangs wonder if his ears were all right. It came in good United States English.

"Hullo, you!" it began. "Let's rest a bit and have a pow-wow!"

Buck could still hardly believe that he really heard, and he hesitated. Finally he returned:

"Don't know you! You talk like us, but you act like a Hun. Can't trust you Huns further than you'd -"

"Aw-come on down! I'm tired of fightin' a will-o'-the-wisp like you. Been in Akron lately?"

"Don't know the burg. Montana's my stampin' ground — when I'm home."

"I used to live in Akron — worked in the rubber factories. Come on down. I know a good place. We can yarn there — mebbe have a zwie-bier."

The two machines were now hardly fifty yards apart, with the German rather lower down than Buck.

"Not much, old man! I don't know you, I say. Now — you watch out! I'm —"

But Buck never finished that sentence. The German, having consumed as much time as he thought proper with his hyperbolical peace propaganda, suddenly dove sideways, executing what is now known as the Emmelin turn, that would bring him, nose up, somewhat below and on the other side of Bangs.

But Buck was not to be caught napping by any Hun making seemingly friendly proposals. Before the German had more than half executed the maneuver, Bangs was already shooting upwards in a zigzag course and by the time the other had gotten into position, Buck was swinging round far above, from whence, to outdo the other, he pointed his Nieuport downward pointblank at the fuselage of the German's Taube.

Swiftly he came, apparently reckless of consequences. It so turned out that the Boche did exactly what Bangs thought he would do: tried to avoid the descending avalanche. His machine swung to the right, yet not enough to clear the other. Full tilt the Nieuport struck the nearly motionless Taube near the center of the fuselage. Nieuports are strong and sharp in their prow, and the metal edge clove through the side of the German machine not unlike one destroyer ramming another.

At the same instant Bangs, pointing his Lewis gun obliquely downward, sent a spatter of bullets full into his opponent just before the collision occurred.

Smash went in the side of the Taube. An instant before, the shower of bullets had penetrated not only the petrol tank but also the body of the too plausible German. Anticipating what might happen, Buck clapped down upon his rudder, reversing his engine, and drew back from the shattered enemy just in time to escape the burst of flame that almost at once enveloped both man and machine.

"I settled him, " panted Buck, almost breathless despite himself. "He may have lived in the U. S., but he lacked much of American love for fair play. I wouldn't have run into him if he had acted at all white."

So ran Buck's thought as he sat breathing heavily, watching the plummet flight of the dead German and his flame-shriveling plane to the earth.

Rising again to a higher altitude, he surveyed the surroundings as well as the night's dim light would permit. Nothing to be seen anywhere. All at once Bangs thought of Blaine. Faintly he had heard the sound of explosions down near the earth; but whether the same were bombs, or guns, or if any other cause were responsible the lad did not know.

"Ought I to look him up or not?" he more than once asked himself. "No better chap anywhere than Blaine, or for that matter Stanley either."

Circling round a wide aerial expanse while cogitating along these lines, he thought he heard the sound of far-off explosions somewhere below. His timepiece showed that the hour was near three A.M. Daylight would soon be showing. In the far west and southwest the thunderous roll of artillery was incessant, mingled with sharper minor concussion of small arms, machine guns and musketry.

"That drive must now be in full swing," he thought. "Ought I to circle round there and see if I can do any good? Might take a squint at the Boche front and let our artillery know."

He was about to follow out this when another rattle from below came up. Somehow he felt that it might be connected with Blaine and Stanley, nor would the notion rest until he began to descend.

The course followed took him somewhat to the north of where the great battle was raging in the southwest, and presently he saw quite an expanse of war-torn forest underneath, or so it seemed from the height at which be flew.

Then a third explosion shattered the air, seeming to rise from directly below. Bangs hesitated no longer. Ascertaining that his petrol was still plentiful, he began gliding downward, over a hamlet or two, mostly in ruins, then over a few small fields, and at last over the scraggy trees. Suddenly he saw to the right a broad oval with what looked like a battered wall around it. It might have been three to four hundred yards in length, by half that in width.

The dim view perplexed him greatly as he flew, not more than from one to two hundred yards above this singular ruin, completely surrounded, as it seemed by forest, or the remains of forest.

All at once, gliding from out some deep shadows, something came rushing along inside this oval, and stopped. A moment later it appeared to rush again over the same course but in the opposite direction. All this dimly came to Buck, swinging easily along overhead. Then it was all clear to him at once.

"I'm certainly gettin' nutty," he owned to himself. "That's a plane. Looks like a biplane and it's trying to rise. Why in Hades don't it rise? Probably because it can't."

He knew that the Boche in his Taube had gone down considerably to the northeastward. And the Taube was on fire. No doubt about that. This was not a hostile machine, was it? Bangs did not feel that it was. He had heard along that front tales of a big concrete oval, once erected in the small Duchy of Luxemburg, close to the town of Arion, which town was near a large area of forest. It had been constructed about the era when a revival of old-time Olympic games had roused more or less interest in a modern worldwide participation in the same, as a sort of antique revival of ancient times. Several celebrations had come off, notably at Athens, at Paris, and elsewhere. Then the interest died out but this concrete oval had remained.

After certain minor uses it had fallen into neglect. When war came that region became more or less ravaged, though somewhat off the track of the main struggles. And here was Buck hovering over this modern relic of an old-time futility, while below him was a mysterious plane trying to rise but apparently not succeeding.

With this train of thought, Bangs got out his remaining signal flares and flashed one of the code signals most in use among the Allied aviators along this front. His pulses leaped when it was answered. Before Buck could do anything more, there came the sounds of a much nearer explosion somewhat off to the south, fairly jarring the earth with its impact.

The plane below was now motionless. All at once a series of flashes came upward that Buck instantly understood as saying:

"You must be of our side. If not, I'll have to take a chance. We are out of petrol: tank 'prang a leak. Can you help us out?"

"You bet!" flashed back Bangs. "Got enough so that we can both get home again. Who are you?"

This last query was instantly replied to from below by the private sign denoting that the parties below were of such and such squad or escadrille quartered at Aerodrome No. -.

Buck drew a long breath, then he flashed forth his own number and began to descend. Nothing more happened until Buck brought his nimble Nieuport to a smooth standstill a few yards distant from a big biplane that Bangs at once recognized as Blaine's.

"Well, well!" he exclaimed, dismounting and hurrying across the intervening space. "Isn't this luck - why - why what's the matter, Lafe? Sick?"

But Blaine was only sick at heart. Already be had taken Stanley out of the observer's manhole, had laid the lad down, pillowing his head on a blanket, and was bending low, massaging Stanley's immobile limbs. Stanley's face looked deathlike under the flare of Blaine's flashlight.

In an instant Buck understood. Stanley had been wounded, perhaps mortally, during the course of the night raid. Blaine, being unable to keep on his course longer owing to the gradual draining of petrol from the tank as the engines consumed the heat, had managed to descend to this retired place.

With not more than a word or two of explanation, Buck also set to, and both lads did their best to revive Stanley, who had fallen again into unconsciousness. The deadly swoon had been strengthened by Stanley's effort to put the last rack of bombs fully in place during the train bombardment, as we have already seen.

They tried cold water, brandy, and also some medicine Buck produced from his own kitbag, but all to no apparent avail. Meantime the explosions to the southward were increasing and, worse still, were drawing nearer, though slowly.

"We got to get out of this," said Lafe at last. "While I put Stanley back in the biplane yon draw as much of your petrol from your tank as you can spare and put it in to mine."

"All righty oh! We got to get a move on, too. Look yonder!"

A bluish-green roll of flame was moving along the plain beyond the forest, showing dimly above it certain flying specks that were undoubtedly airplanes, but whether hostile or friendly was not apparent.

"Course it's Fritzy, Lafe," was Bangs' comment who, after aiding Blaine to stow the wounded man as comfortably as possible in his own manhole, was already at work replenishing the biplane's tank from his own. "To be square, I'll divide up, giving you a leetle the most. We gotter to get back — eh?"

"If possible, yes. I don't hanker after a German prison camp. It would sure kill Stanley, if he isn't dead already."

By the time they had their brief preparations completed, the fire, steadily approaching, struck the edge of an opening through the woods and suddenly burst into tremendous flame, with an accompanying report.

"Wait, Lafe," cautioned Buck, for both were in their seats. "Let, me rise first. I'll mosey towards that fire. As for you and Stan — you make your get-away. Sooner you get back to the home plate, the more you'll be apt to do for Stan. Stan's a bully chap — durn 'im."

Up into the air rose the Nieuport, while Buck was thus delivering himself. Over towards the line of fires and the shadowy circling of planes he went while Blaine himself made an attempt to rise. What was the latter's consternation to find that his plane would not rise sufficient to clear the concrete oval by which the open space was surrounded!

"What will I do now?" Blaine almost gasped. "Must be something wrong with the machinery that I failed to notice."

Another explosion, much nearer, that seemed to tear up trees within the forest. At the same time he distinctly saw Buck's machine circling round and round, high up in the air, and directly over where the last explosion had occurred. It looked puzzling. But Lafe had no time just then to observe Buck's doings except that, during the last flash, the concrete oval had given way.

Meantime the biplane was trying to lift itself a trifle higher, and happened to be beaded towards where the explosions were occurring.

"Damn if he ain't droppin' bombs, too," Blaine gasped, then quickly solved the riddle of Buck's maneuvers.

Without waiting further, but applying all his power, Blaine drove the biplane forward at full speed, at the same time using both forward and rear steering blades to assist further elevation of the prow.

"Will we make it?" he asked himself. "If we do, what will we do then?"

Too late to consider pros and cons now. The die was cast, either for good or ill. Then, all at once, he saw Buck's small triplane rise at a marvelous speed, while from the south came several other planes, almost skimming the ground in their onward rush. Also, still further on, was a confused mass that was struggling rearward, though what it could be was puzzling. It was still too dark to distinguish things clearly when unaided by the fires.

A whistling, whirring swish swept startlingly near his own plane, now at last rising high over the ruins of the oval, forty yards of which were scattered over the earth. From this sounded a well-known voice through a megaphone:

"Follow me — you — Lafe! Boches ahead. Follow me — dodge 'em."

That was all, but it was enough.



CHAPTER XVIII

BACK HOME

Blaine knew good advice when it came. His own more cumbersome machine having at last the right slope for rising, even in its crippled state, did rise, and rapidly, so that Lafe was much encouraged.

Bangs, still overhead, darted forward at a startling pace directly for the nearest enemy plane that intuitively dodged. He swooped to the left and engaged in the subtle, lightning-like maneuvers which so often accompany the opposing efforts of two skilled antagonists seeking to gain the advantage one over the other.

This, as it was intended, gave Blaine his first chance to rise uninterruptedly and gain such height and distance as he desired. Meantime the gray dawn was slowly growing, enabling him to see in the south certain masses of men, disordered, yet moving with a common impulse towards the east. Undoubtedly they were the retreating Germans, at last giving way before the offensive that had been launched upon them by the Allies early the evening before.

The series of explosions and flames that they had seen dimly, from the forest surrounded oval, was the destruction made by the enemy along the lines of their night's retreat. They were going back to what has become known as the famed Hindenburg line or base, which for some time marked the end of the now retirement of the Boche forces on the west front.

Having attained sufficient height, Blaine turned more westward; on account of Stanley, he was determined to make the shortest cut towards the home aerodrome. But here, too, another flock of enemy fliers was hanging over the advancing Allies so that Blaine, for sake of caution, rose up, up, still higher in the effort to avoid these new antagonists.

Looking back, Blaine now saw Bangs engaged, in fierce conflict with two of the rearward squad of Boche fliers. Again he admired the marvelous speed and dexterity of his chum as the circlings of the three were faintly apparent.

All at once came a burst of flame from one of the three and down went the burning plane like so many had gone before.

"Was that Buck?" gasped Blaine, greatly excited. "The other two seem strangely harmonious. I must see more."

Round he wheeled and sailed towards the two remaining planes that were zigzagging about each other a mile or more in the rear.

At a speed of two miles a minute, Blaine found himself almost immediately being circled by the first plane, which was so much like Buck's that he at first distinguished no difference. What first aroused him was a roar of sound and a spatter of bullets that stabbed his planes as the stranger flew by.

"By hokyl It's a Boche!" Blaine was already maneuvering to get some shots himself when from the second plane, came a code signal that instantly informed him of his first mistake.

"Go home!" the flashes commanded. "Leave, me to take care of Fritz."

Quick as a wink Blaine turned to the homeward flight again. But his plane moved heavily. Back again came the German, but Bangs suddenly intruded and the two scouts were soon banging, diving, dodging each other while Blaine, pursued his former course as best he might.

But his speed was strangely slow. He had trouble in maintaining an even flight, and there were more planes coming from the west. This was the rear squadron of Germans, that had been overhanging the Allied advance and signaling their own men further east.

"Buck and I — we'll be overwhelmed, " though Lafe. "I'm growing weaker. What the hell is the matter with me anyhow?" meaning his planes of course.

But before the approaching Boches could surround Blaine or Bangs, still fighting his foe, there rose suddenly out of a cloud to the southwest a new flock of airplanes that instantly attacked the retreating foe.

All this time a terrific artillery fire was roaring out of the east, as the result of the Boches signaling from their rear squadron, now being rapidly whipped into flight by the new onslaught of Allied planes.

Where was Bangs? Just then Blaine saw the solitary Boche flier that had first attacked him and afterwards got it hot from Buck, speeding at a crippled pace towards the east. It passed Blaine who, having a sheaf of ammunition ready, turned loose upon it forthwith as it passed.

This was all it needed, for the foe, one wing swinging loosely, sagged earthward at a great pace, its pilot working frantically to keep on an even keel.

Two passing Allied planes each gave it a shower of bullets that caused it to topple over in mid-air, and go crashing down towards that grim and gory field below. But where was Bangs?

Blaine's anxieties were deflected from Buck to his own plane which at last turned earthward, not, crippled more by enemy aid, but - but —

"Why — confound it! I'm out of gasoline again. Well, here goes!" And he proceeded to carefully spiral down as gently as he could, no easy job when all motive power is suddenly exhausted.

He landed in a broad shell-hole and at once began to apply restoratives to Stanley who, very weak yet undaunted, asked where they were.

"Why, we're somewhere behind the Allied drive in what was No-Man's-Land. But don't you bother! What I've got to do is to get you back to our base somehow."

"You've been mighty good, Lafe. I'll do my best to help by laying still and trying to get a mite stronger."

Here a groan was heard that caused Blaine to begin to investigate their immediate surroundings. Nearby was a wrecked plane in which we two Germans, one dead through the fall, and the other evidently dying. The dying man was conscious and had heard Blaine and Stanley talking together. Then came the groan. Instantly Blaine, rushing over, recognized him.

"Why, it is Herman Bauer!" he exclaimed, as much for Stanley's benefit as to show Bauer that he recognized him. "Anything I can do for you, Bauer?"

"N-nein — no," Bauer corrected himself. "I've got mine. Himmel! Eet vas to me coming I guess — vat?"

Here Bauer was seized by another convulsion that left him speechless, staring and all but dead.

Blaine surveyed him coldly.

"I didn't know you were much of a flier," he said. "Were you that chap's observer? Well, you must have photos, plans or something."

Then Blaine coolly proceeded to search both men, the dead pilot and the one about to die. Bauer's eyes gleamed with hate as he managed to say:

"Gott strafe Englander!" He choked, panting, then whispered with his last breath: "Gott strafe Amerikanner - schwein — sch—"

The whisper died away in a choking deep in the throat. Bauer was dead. He had paid the last great penalty. Blaine, still cool and unruffled, continued his search until he was in possession of all the two men had that was worth the trouble of taking. Among these were maps, air-craft photos of the Allied trenches and one valuable map the communicating transport and railway lines behind the new Tlindenburg front to which Germans generally were retiring.

With Bauer dead and Stanley more comfortable, Blaine began looking over his machine. It seemed all right but for lack of petrol and wings being more punctured and ragged than usual.

"Where can I get petrol?" he more than once asked himself. "I could either get on myself and join our men, or get back to the station. But I can't leave Stanley. Hang it all! What'll I do?"

Lafe was about to give it up for the present, when Stanley from his recumbent position said:

"Why don't you try that Boche plane? Seems like I heard Bauer say something about petrol. Then he swore because he could not get up. I didn't know then it was Bauer."

"Right you are, Stan! Why didn't I think of that before? I hope the fall didn't smash their tank."

It so happened the tank was nearly all right, only a little of the oil having leaked out through a twisted nut. Blaine got busy and in ten minutes he had transferred the German petrol to his own tank, and thereupon felt, as be phrased it, quite "like a new man."

Meantime stray shells were falling here and there, but none within a dangerous margin. Still, it would be better to get somewhere else.

"Come on, Stan," said Blaine. "I don't like these stray duds and coal-boxes. One of them might drop too near. Let me put you back in your manhole."

Before this could be accomplished, Blaine heard another nearing noise, at first high up in the air. Looking up he saw a tiny burst of flame from a dark, swirling object that was plainly descending fast, then faster still.

"Why, that must be a falling plane!" he exclaimed. "It's coming down mighty close, too. What'd I better do?"

Apparently there was not much to do for half a minute but to watch. And watch both he and Stanley did, wondering if it was enemy or friend, for the burning plane was careening, fluttering — not unlike a broken-winged bird. In the gray dawn they could see the pilot, still seated, dexterously manipulating every agency that might enable him to keep his balance without falling out.

Down, down he came, finally plumping to earth, just outside the broad shell-hole with a gentle crash. With this the flames burst up anew, enveloping the crushed wings, and rendering the very nearness a danger. But the goggled, leather-coated masked man had already sprung out, his personal belongings in hand, and stumbled up the outer slope of the crater. Suddenly he was halted by the stern command:

"Hands up — you!" There was no mistaking Blaine's voice by one who had often heard it before.

"Why, hullo, Lafe!" And Blaine and Stanley both recognized the wrecked intruder. "I thought you had made the home base."

Sure enough it was Buck Bangs himself, breathless from exertion, yet full of vim and energy still. He climbed nimbly up the slope and gripped Blaine's hand, then stooping, greeted the still weak, yet slowly recovering Stanley.

"I would have got there," said Blaine, replying to Buck's first remark, "but my petrol all at once gave out. I barely managed to save a fall by alighting here. How came you in this fix?"

"That's soon said. While I was fighting that plane that was after you and you were on the way home, as I thought, along came two other Boches. Well, we had it hot for a minute or so. I downed one somewhere along here."

"Yonder it lies," and Blaine pointed at the ruins of the other plane, near which lay Bauer and the other dead German. "Bet you'd never guess who one of them two Huns is." Lafe eyed Bangs quizzically.

"Nix! I ain't much on blind guessing. I saw my chap was crippled and I went back after the other, to keep him off you. I'd lost sight of you, but I reasoned you'd be on the way home. I knew you couldn't go very fast. Then all at once I saw I was afire. One of my wings had caught from something — probably an explosive shell. Well, I had to turn back. Meantime those planes arriving from our side had swept the Boches clean off. I saw I wasn't getting much of anywhere and I just managed to light down here."

"But what about that chap over there?"

"Bother! I don't know beans about him; only if I helped bring him down I guess it was a good job."

"Better job than you think! You remember Bauer, the chap that was caught in the spy act back in the old station?"

Bangs nodded.

"He's one of the two over there," pointing at the airplane wreck, "and he was alive when I heard him. I went to him, but he was practically gone. Will say this for him though, he was a Hun all right, and he died cussing us all, Johnny Bull, Uncle Sam, as 'Schwein, schwein!' Oh yes, be was true German to the backbone. Between you and me I'm right glad that it fell to us to do him up, and that we will all know he got the reward due his abominable treachery." And Blaine nodded his head emphatically.

Bangs walked across, eyed the dead Hun a moment, and came back, saying:

"Will your plane carry us — but pshaw! You're out of gasoline, man!"

"No - we're not. Got a tank half full!"

"Too thin, old man! Why, then did you stop here? You didn't know I was going to drop down, and you knew Stanley ought to be in the hospital instead of lying here listening to you and me gabbing this way."

"Why haven't you got some invention, Buck?" Blaine was grinning as he rose up to prepare for early departure. "I 'lowed that if Bauer had enough gasoline to get this far, if his tank wasn't busted, he might have more. I took what they had and was about to leave when down you came. Come on — let's go!"

With great care Stanley was placed as comfortably as possible inside the biplane, which the two aviators trundled to the edge of the shell-hole. A moment later, with Bangs giving the plane a downward push, then leaping lightly up behind Blaine, they easily rose to a requisite height and glided over the shell-torn plain.

Far away to the east and southeast rumbled the roar of battle, while with the gray dawn, now mantling into rose pink, then red, and finally melting into the brightest of gold, at last came the morning's sun, leaping from its nightly nest and flooding half the world with the day's celestial glory.

Luckily their plane was not hit or in danger from the occasional shells that still came screaming over the lines across the scraggy war-torn land over which they flew. Stanley, though very weak, was still alive. Loss of blood was the main cause of his weakness. Upon recovering from his first state of coma, after sustaining his injury, he had borne the long, wearisome ride, the spatter and peril of conflict without complaint.

At Appincourte Bluff, where was now a base hospital, he was taken from the plane and put under adequate medical care. For twenty-four hours he dozed and slowly strengthened; but when be finally waked again to life and its daily events, there was Miss Daskam's fair young face at his bedside. Needless to state that Stanley's recovery was rapid under these auspices.

Meantime Blaine and Bangs made their further, way in the plane over the few miles intervening between the hospital and the aerodrome.

Most of the boys were away, scattered along the now advancing front but by night some of them began to straggle back. Poor Finzer and Brodno would never come back. That both Lafe and his companion well knew. But they had died like true men, fighting for the cause they believed in.

Captain Byers was also at the front, now many miles to the east. But the veteran Sergeant Anson was on hand and in partial charge. He it was who brought to the boys some sealed envelopes, saying:

"You chaps have been gone a goodish while. And you've managed to lose one bully scouting plane. But I guess you've done your bit all right."

"Well, sergeant," remarked Blaine quizzically, "I don't know what you'd call doing our bit. Buck here has brought down, with my help at times, several Boche planes. I managed to knock spots out of a troop and ammunition train or rather two of them. Better than all, we helped bring down another plane with two Huns in it, one dead, another dying. Guess who the last one was?"

Anson grinned, frowned, then shook his head.

"Bother the guessin'! I ain't as bally good at that as you Yanks. Was it any one we knows?"

"You remember Bauer?"

"That rotter what was found guilty of spyin' for the enemy? Yes, I knew the blighter, the traitor?"

"Well, he's dead. When his plane fell on fire, I had to drop down in a shell-hole back yonder. Bauer and his pilot had fallen near there just before. He was cussing us all out, Boche fashion. But it was from their machine that I got enough petrol to fetch us three safely back. So you see Bauer was some good after all. Of course he was a traitor and should have been hung."

"Well, you two haven't done so bad. Before Senator Walsen and his daughters left they gave me these things for you two, if you had the luck to get back. And Captain Byers, before going on this raid, left this permit, together with all necessary papers for you two to go on leave for ten days."

"That reminds me, said Blaine, fishing in his own pockets. "Here are some photos, maps and so on that I got from those two dead Germans, Bauer and his pilot. They may be of service up at headquarters."

And he handed them over, Buck supplementing them with a few he too had taken on his various ventures within the last day or two.



CHAPTER XIX

CONCLUSION

Two days later a couple of rather spruce looking young men alighted from an eastern train in Paris and, strolling forth in the crowd of passengers, looked about them rather curiously.

Both had passed through the French capital before, but more as strangers and foreigners than as ally Americans, visiting a city famed as the center of all that is best in French history and tradition.

"Looks much like little old New York," remarked Buck, "only I don't see so many skyscrapers."

"I like that!" said Blaine. "I never did fall in love with fifty-story shacks that seem to resent the sunlight down here below. I wish Stan could be with us, don't you?"

"Yep! But I bet he's satisfied with the nursing he's getting off that pretty Chicago girl we left him with. What we better do? Wait for something to happen?"

"'Looks that way. Our wire said for us to wait at the depot." And Blaine, looking curiously around, happened to be turned the wrong way when a uniformed porter came up to Bangs, touched his cap and said:

"Pardon, messieurs, but will you come with me?" And be presented a card upon which was engraved the name of Senator Walsen. Under this was hastily penciled in a feminine hand: "We are waiting. Please follow the porter." That was all.

Buck, slightly confused, tugged at Blaine's sleeve, saying:

"Come on! They're waiting for us - somewhere."

With a start of surprise Blaine obeyed, and each bearing his hand-bag, they set out dumbly after the station official who had already picked up a couple of suit-cases.

For a minute or more they threaded the mixed throngs of civilians, officials, soldiers of all grades and many nationalities, together with trainmen, guards, gendarmes and what not, to a line of waiting cabs, taxies, motor-cars just beyond a series of high iron gates. At one of these a sentry, together with a railway official, examined their tickets, and more important still their passes or permits. After this, both sentry and guard, respectfully saluting, stood aside and the porter took them to a big gray limousine drawn up near by. A uniformed driver sat in front, while the porter placed the luggage in a rear rack and climbed up behind himself.

All this was comparatively unnoticed, for the door opened and two lovely faces peered out as the young men came up.

Just then Blaine felt unduly conscious of one or more court-plastered places upon his cranial anatomy, while Buck felt that a wound or two on arm and neck somehow detracted from his natural freedom of movement. And yet neither had given the matter a thought before. These were the chances of war. Chances with ladies, however, were just then much more important.

But the two young women, charmingly dressed, were all smiles and cordiality.

"You will excuse father, won't you?" lisped Andra, while both made way inside the tonneau for the two to enter. There they were eagerly greeted by no less a personage than Orris Erwin, also on leave, who shook bands heartily.

In the tonneau were two seats, each roomy enough for three. As the car started on, all chatting eagerly, Avella supplemented Andra's remark with:

"Papa had to attend some kind of a war meeting at Versailles. He deputized us to welcome you., Mr. Erwin insisted oncoming, too."

"Why, this is great, great!" enthused Blaine, his awkwardness all gone under the cordiality of this greeting. "I always wanted to get leave, you know. So did Buck. Orry seems to have got in ahead on the leave business."

He grinned at Erwin, but Andra put in with:

"Well, we're all on leave only, aren't we, Mr. Erwin?"

"You gir — you ladies, too?" essayed Bangs, while Erwin nodded.

"Why, yes. We're enlisted in the Red Cross, you know, and they're so strict about letting us off. But we, too, got our ten days. It will give us time to show you boys about the city a bit. And we're so glad you got back safe and are in time. Besides, tonight is going to be the big time for you boys."

"You are right, Vella." Andra smiled roguishly. "Mr. Erwin has been so curious. He's always wanting to know."

Clearly something was up, but recognizing that good manners were now a point to be duly considered, the young men managed to conquer their curiosity and confine their attention to other not less agreeable things.

They motored out to the Walsen residence, near the American Embassy, and were ensconced with Erwin in a suite of apartments much superior to what they had been used to of late.

The day passed. Senator Walsen returned. With him was the American Ambassador and a stout, elderly, yet martial looking man, already one of the most famous of the high Marshals of France, and now well known in the United States.

There was a dinner of state that evening, to which not only these three aviators were invited, but also various other French and Americans who had more or less distinguished themselves.

At the hour appointed no less a personage than the President of the French Republic, with several of his leading supporters also came. Altogether some twenty or more were assembled in the Walsen drawing-room just before the dinner hour.

Somewhat nervous, yet hopeful, our youngsters carefully prepared themselves for what Bangs confessed was "a blame sight more trying than any of the Boche scrimmages we have tackled of late."

"You are making mountains out of mole-bills; you know you are." Andra and Avella were smiling now, both doubly charming in their new Red Cross gowns.

As a matter of fact all three lads in their clean, trim aviation uniforms presented both a manly, martial and genteel appearance. At the last moment in came Captain Byers just in from the front; and with him was Stanley, pale and rather thin, yet surprisingly strong, considering his severe experiences. Miss Daskam was not there, but if one had looked closely at Stanley's pockets, the edge of a small photo of that young lady might have peeped out. Most likely this would have aroused Erwin's jealousy. Who knows?

When all were assembled and the usual round of introductions had been gone through with, Senator Walsen rose, introducing the Marshal, and concluding as follows:

"We not only love our French brothers-in-arms, but we know they love us. Our distinguished leader here," indicating the Marshal, "'wishes now to substantially prove this." And he gave way to the great Frenchman, who motioned to our lads to stand up, and then proceeded to pin on each young breast a cross of honor, bestowed for gallantry on the west front.

Directly Captain Byers also came forward and read an order from our War Department authorizing the General commanding our forces in France to declare the following promotions:

Lafayette Blaine to be First Lieutenant in the new American Aviation corps, Buck Bangs to be Second Lieutenant in same; and Orris Erwin and George Stanley to be First Sergeants. Effect to be immediate. Also furloughs granted to each for ten days at full pay.

Then the Marshal, whose command of English was limited, briefly yet succinctly complimented them all, especially Captain Byers, who had just come back from the line pressing the retiring enemy.

After that, of course, there was nothing to do but announce the dinner.

"How do you feel after all this?" curiously asked Andra Walsen of Blaine while waiting for a succeeding course in the rather stately march of the repast. "Do you feel good?"

"I always feel best when you are with me," he simply replied.

"Oh!" she replied, and there was unwonted color in her face as she looked down at a rose he had given her, now pinned right over her heart.

Both Buck and Avella looked quite as if they had been discussing the fact that, after all, were they not natural neighbors? Was not she from Idaho — he from Montana? What more would anybody have?

And so let us leave them. The war still goes on, grows in bitterness, fierceness, cruelty, all or mostly inaugurated by Fritz the Hun.

How neat, how appropriate the name!

Let us, good reader, hope that if these young folks do survive the war and return to their homes alive, that some of their dawning dreams may come true, despite the Hun and all his works.

THE END