Once more sharp reports from the Archies came from below. Whether these were by the battery he had seen Lafe could not now tell. So thick was the fog, the gun flashings did not reach up to where he was now spiraling still upward, in order to get beyond the chance effect of some stray shot.
All along the now distant battle line the dull red glow of bursting shells lined the front as the rumble of sound jarred more clearly upon his ears. Undoubtedly some kind of battle must be going on. Was it one result of the night raid? Was Fritz, now that his observation points were at least temporarily out of active service, taking his revenge by another drive? And where the Allies would least suspect? That is, right over the Appincourte Bluff?
"What ought I do?" reflected Blaine, still gently climbing higher. "It's a still night, foggy, good for most anything up here, except to see or be seen and that's what I don't want. Wonder if poor Finzer had his night signals along? Ah, here they are!"
He was overhauling with one hand a small locker that was part of the fuselage Moreover, there were still two unused sheafs of ammunition for the Lewis gun and a few grenades and bombs. Finzer had not expended all his allotment in the balloon attack.
"Guess I'd better edge in towards where that drive seems to be centering. That is the reason, probably, that this battery broke in where I was on the point of going up again. Fritz is up to some new thing, I'll bet."
Taking his bearings as best he could, Blaine headed more westward, keeping at an elevation of six or seven thousand feet.
"Wonder what they'll think back at the station when they don't find me among the ones that get back? Poor Milt! I lost my machine; he lost his life. And there were others, too. That Montana chap Bangs. Last I saw of him he was right under one of them sausages, letting Fritz have it with the Lewis. Looked like something would get him — heigho! What is that?"
Down below, slightly to his rear, there flashed through the fog a short series of vari-colored lights, which to Blaine's active mind spelled forth:
"Boches 'bout to get me. Big drive on hand. Yonder they go — watch out!"
That was all, but it was enough. Blaine knew that it must come from another of the raiding scouts who had somehow gone down in No-Man's-Land. It might come from a shell hole. Anyway, it was being sent up by some one risking almost certain death in order to let the Allies know that big things were already under way.
"Where are the Boche planes?" Blaine had more than once asked himself. The balloons were gone. The few enemy planes left to guard the gasbags had been put to flight by the daring raiders. Blaine himself had sent one down in flames. Others had followed the retreating raiders. Now that a night drive was on, other planes would be converging towards the salient thus suddenly selected for a night assault. In another instant Blaine's mind was made up.
"Here's at you, my friend," he said to himself. "I'll try to find out who and what you are. Damn the risk!"
With the thought he turned the nose of the triplane downward, so that it was almost at a perpendicular angle. Before this he had noted that around the point whence had risen that telltale signal there seemed to be a foggy void. This meant to Lafe that, for the present at least, there was nothing doing at this particular spot. Of course those signal lights might draw dangerous attention, but Blaine had resolved to risk the chances of that. Perhaps one of his comrades in distress had deliberately courted death or imprisonment m order to let their side know what was taking place. "Bully boy, whoever he is!" he thought.
Briskly yet carefully working his machine, Lafe descended until, when he flatted out, he could see through the fog the darker background of war-torn earth.
"I'll flash our private signal," he resolved. "He may see it. So mayFritz. But — here goes!"
Lafe pressed with his foot upon a certain button that was connected with an electric flashlight fastened in a special groove at a downward angle of the fuselage or body of the car. At each pressure certain flashes emitted the message of inquiry in private code.
"Where are you, pal? I'm coming. Let me know if you can."
Circling round at an even slightly lower level, he continued to signal but without avail. Just as he was about to quit and rise higher again, he detected a faint red and blue gleam that apparently ceased without rime or reason. One faint glimmer succeeded, but died out as if suddenly broken off.
Without waiting for more Blaine gave a searching look around but, seeing nothing through the mist, gently, cautiously felt his way downward, easing up in speed as best he could. The wheels jolted over rough but level ground, until the nose of the plane shoved itself against an abrupt angle of rough earth that brought him to a halt all at once. Quickly he adjusted the controls and, revolver in hand, boldly leaped out.
Dark it was, except for the lurid flashings of distant artillery, while to the west the roar of infantry battle sounded much nearer than when Lafe was high up in the air.
"Where am I?" he asked himself, reaching for his pocket flashlight."Surely this must be No-Man's-Land!"
Thus thinking, he stumbled against another plane; not his, but the wreck of another one. Intuitively he felt that he must have landed right. Feeling round him, he detected certain signs that made him almost sure one of the raiding scout machines had fallen here.
"This must be one of those big shell holes," he thought. "Why — what if it is where those signals came from?"
Just as Blaine was about to climb up the incline of disrupted earth, his flashlight sending gleams here and there, a voice he recognized ,sounded:
"Halt, you! I heard your motor, but you won't get me without a fight."
"Damn if it ain't Buck all righty," said Blaine, still climbing.
He turned his light to where the voice sounded, and bellowed, regardless of consequences:
"Don't you know your squad leader?"
"Good gracious! You — here?" The youth from Butte, Montana, was peering down at advancing form, delighted amazement in face, but he only said: "Shut off your light Sergeant! We're surrounded by - by - them! That's better! Where'd you come from?"
"Oh, I just dropped down in answer to your signal. I thought if the Boches were about to get you, they might have another chance at me, see?"
A faint yet hilarious chuckle came forth. Then:
"Say, Lafe, when I first tumbled down here, I thought I was a goner.But I wasn't hurt much. My machine is smashed, though."
"What brought you down? Why didn't you go a little further?"
"I would have, but Archie got me just as I thought I was about safe. That ain't all. I guess our downing them sausages was a bit too for Hans. Directly after that they started the hottest barrage fire you've seen in a month of Sundays. Keepin' it up yet, only they've slacked a bit along here. I kept thinkin' how I was going to get out of this when I heard the tramp and scuffle of advancing infantry.
"All at once I knew. They're sour yet over busting up their big underground at Appincourte Bluff; and now comes this raid of ours and away goes that string of a dozen balloons. I guess it was too much."
"Infantry! What infantry? Oh, you mean Fritzy!"
"Who else? Well, Fritz came with such a rush he didn't look for me. There was a lot of him passed. I scrunched down inside this crater the best I knew how and directly I knew I must let our folks know. Then's when I sent up my signals — in code, of course."
\"That's so, Buck. I saw 'em and read 'em."
Buck was grinning to himself.
"You?" Bangs looked his astonishment. "Well, if we warned our folks in time, and I guess I did by the sounds, and then caught hold of you, it was a lucky venture."
"You caught me all right. But how are we going to get away? Say your machine is busted?"
"How'd ye know?"
"Well, by the way it came down and struck. I have no tools with me, and I had to crawl in here in a hurry."
"Come on," ordered the Sergeant in his official tone. "We've got no time to lose. I've got tools or rather Milt had."
"What's the matter with Finzer?" Buck was keenly concerned for he andMilt had been quite chummy.
Blaine told him briefly all that had happened.
"And you had to leave him back there? Well - well, it's war. Sure he was dead? By thunder! I'll get even yet with Hans — Gawd willin'. The skunks!"
All this and more while Lafe, now alert and busy, was getting out Finzer's tools. Presently the two were examining Buck's plane which they found was practically all right except for a big rent in two of the wings. With the appliances at land this did not take long, for both worked frantically, knowing that hostile planes from the neighboring front would soon be hovering near and also that the infantry was due either to reform the battle line or, if not, that reinforcements might pass at any time.
In a very short while the job was done. To Blaine's surprise Buck began nimbly climbing back up the crater wall.
"Where ye going?" he gently called, but only heard in reply:
"In a minute — in a minute!"
But while Blaine was fuming, still getting things in readiness, Bangs slid back down the embankment, dragging a shabby gray army overcoat. Lafe looked disgusted. He snatched it, held it up, flashed his light over it, then cast it down, saying:
"That's a Boche infantry coat — officer's, I reckon. What do we want of that? Get into your place. I've turned your machine round."
Both climbed in, Bangs stowing in his own machine the coat he had delayed both to secure, a said the while:
"When those charging battalions went by, of their officers threw away his coat. They were on a double quick, to reinforce others that gone on before I came down.
"Lucky they happened to have no planes. Otherwise I'd never pulled through. As it was she was a close squeeze. I slipped down, bagged the coat, and here she is. You needn't laugh, Sergeant. There's maps and papers inside. Might be wuth something to our side yet."
"Bully for you, Bangs! I was wrong. Are you ready? Then follow me! We're going to stick round the Boche flanks a bit and who knows what we may run up against?"
Without a bit of trouble Blaine's triplane glided upward after a short slide over the rough level of No-Man's-Land, and he was off. Buck attempted to follow but the machine skidded sideways, struck a slope and after a mute struggle with adverse conditions came to a standstill. Cursing to himself, Buck jumped out, forced his plane to a more stable level, then mounting to his seat again he put on all power to try to overtake his companion. But in that short interval Blaine had vanished in fog.
"If this isn't bad luck, I don't know what is!" soliloquized Buck, as his Nieuport began to rise. "If I'd got off at first, I wouldn't 'a' lost Lafe. Well, I must do a trifle of scouting on my own hook. "
Buck was climbing, not too fast, for he watched, still hoping that something might happen that he would sight Blaine again. Flying thus easily, climbing still higher, he was all at once startled by a burst of machine gun fire from the ground ahead. There came a reply higher up, and he felt that this must come from Lafe.
Mounting swiftly, he presently became conscious that a machine was hovering above and behind, "getting on his tail" as the slang runs among aviators at the front. The quickest way to avert the danger was first to try the "side loop" which is a kind of "loop-the-loop" sideways, a risky trick, yet a good thing if rightly done. Buck tried it instantly. When upside down he darted ahead swiftly but in a reversed course, bringing him fairly behind the other plane as he, righted.
As he came up to a level again, now behind his opponent, he saw for an instant that the shadow looming scarce fifty yards ahead looked strangely like Blaine's machine. What to do next — before firing? Use his private signal, of course. No sooner thought than done. Two peculiar flares shot forth, each glowing brightly for an instant, then vanishing.
"But — hey?" Bangs was ejaculating to himself excitedly. "Will he answer?"
Up, up climbed Buck, his pulses throbbing for one long instant, the nose of his machine settling rapidly on the tail of the other plane. Then came an answering flash. After that another.
"Bully for you, Lafe! My, that was a close call! I mustn't lose track of him again. We'll be there with the goods yet, if we stick together." This to himself.
Presently both machines were moving side by side, hardly fifty yards apart. To come closer at this rate of speed these small scouting planes maintaining would have caused a mutual air suction that might cause a collision. This is the real cause of many of the accidents that befall inexperienced aviators, when out flying, perhaps by themselves.
The night, of course, was far spent. The fog was lightening imperceptibly. Their watches betokened that it was nearing three a.m. Blaine got out his megaphone, for talking at high altitudes is much a matter of expanded lung power. He began, as usual, with a joke.
"Like to 'a' got you back there!" he shouted. "Where you been?"
"Looking for you mainly. What you going do next?"
"See that line of fire off norwest! We that's where our front and Johnny Bull's join. Appincourte Bluff seems either to have been turned or to have turned Fritzy off. Ready for a scrimmage?"
"You ought to know, Lafe!" Bangs laughed easily into the megaphone."Ready for most anything."
"Well, our front there is rather weak. Follow me. Don't lose me. We'll give that infantry a time trying to find out who we are that's spitting on them from overhead. Catch me?"
"Yep-fire away! Suits me!"
In another few seconds the two machines were flying through the thinning fog, gradually lowering their altitude and nearing at a rate of a mile and a half a minute the advancing lines of the enemy, revealed only to these fliers by the close barrage fire maintained by their artillery in the rear.
Of course beyond this barrage must be certain observation planes. The chance must be taken of meeting one of these. Meanwhile the first thing was to begin upon the assaulting battalions with their machine guns.
Almost in an instant they were over the front platoons, flying as close as they dared in order to escape the barrage that was passing overhead, falling now behind the front trench line of the Allies. This in order to stop, or at least hinder the arrival of such reinforcements as could be thrown forward to strengthen this suddenly assailed point.
These planes, being of a late design, had a device whereby the aim of the Lewis gun could be instantly altered from a horizontal to a perpendicular slant. Moreover both Blaine and Bangs had repeating rifles, and revolvers. Great dexterity was shown by each as their machines, slackening their speed to that most suitable for accurate firing, their motors roaring right over the assaulting columns, poured down a spray of bullets that inevitably found a human mark.
Fritzy usually charges in dense masses. He is "cannon fodder"; he knows it, but apparently doesn't care. Now, however, he dodged, dived, hunted shell holes, and otherwise evinced extreme terror. First one plane, then the other, at nearest safe distance apart, rained down showers of death. Was this another repetition that earlier trench assault that resulted in the destruction of the sausages? It looked so. might also be other swift moving machines behind, each pouring leaden showers on infantry now defenseless. Yet a moment before they were placidly plodding on towards the death in front, for which they had been driven forth by their officers that night.
Occasional shots were fired upward by soldiers here and there. But though close, so swift were the machines that they vanished almost at once from the time of their first appearance at any given point.
Only two? No more. Fritzy began to take courage. Both planes were now whirring on somewhere else. But were they truly gone?
Even while officers were taking heart and again driving forward their men, back came the two planes upon their former path, but now going south instead of north.
Again were the former scenes repeated, with even worse results.
But now arose another sound, a sound as of an advance from the Allied trenches. What could be?
The two aviators, their planes much shot with holes but otherwise unhurt, rose suddenly, swooping in long circles to higher and yet higher altitudes. The first flushes of dawn were breaking. In the air two observation planes flying over the Allied front were signaling to the German batteries in the rear, from which came the barrage protecting their infantry from Allied advances. At once they knew what to do.
Both drove on through the hostile fire and bore down upon these observation biplanes. Observation planes are not good fighters. In less than a minute after rising those two fighting planes had chased the larger, slower machines off the ground.
But what was Blaine's surprise to see Bangs, not a hundred yards away, making bold signals strange code to the Germans back in the rear. Lafe himself could not read them. What did it mean? For an instant there flashed to him a suspicion that Bangs from Montana might not be just plain American.
"I won't think such a thing!" thought Lafe. "What is he up to?"
Then he saw that the enemy barrage was falling further back, just about where the recovering infantry was resuming its advance, after the short shock occasioned by the two raiding triplanes that had suddenly gone aloft.
"Were the Allies in their turn assaulting the Boches? What could it mean? In another brief interval Blaine found out, when sudden demoralization set in at once. Without apparent cause the Boches, now nearly upon the first Allied trenches, found that they were the center of a bombardment from the rear. What did that mean? The fire was withering.
Could the foe they were attacking be taking them in the flank? The idea was almost unbelievable. And yet the fire was also insupportable.
With one accord the front lines recoiled, although their officers beat the privates with their sword flats, cursing and reviling them as cowards. Right on top of this, the queer noises in front materialized into certainties.
The Allies were advancing. Were there not also reinforcements behind? Reinforcements hitherto kept back by what? The barrage. Where was that barrage now? Falling not only on their rear but also further back. How did this happen? Where were their own planes?
Officers and men were dropping on every hand. A charging foe in front was almost on them. After a minute or two of this, that whole section of the advance appeared to melt like froth on the water.
Meantime up above, and from a higher altitude than before, Bangs continued his mysterious signaling; not to Blaine or to the Allies, but — wonder of all wonders — to the Boches themselves.
Blaine now understood this, for he had noticed that the barrage itself had fallen back. Instead of covering and protecting the Germans, it was slaughtering them even more than the two aviators had done with their machine guns from a lower altitude.
Upon the sudden rout below, which was sensed rather than seen by the two fliers as the dawn rapidly grew, came the new rush of the Allies.
By this time Blaine felt that he and Buck must do one of two things. Those retreating observation planes would undoubtedly bring up air reinforcements. The barrage had already stopped. This was good for the charging Allies as well as the retreating Boches.
"Buck and I have either got to get back inside our lines or fight," he thought, carefully balancing his triplane against a rising breeze. "Or we might rise higher and take another chance. One thing we have done. We've helped bust up that charge, no matter how their advance has fared at Appincourte or elsewhere."
Forward went the Allied infantry, driving the now disrupted Huns before them. The fog kept clearing. Presently both Blaine and Bangs saw heavy masses of men advancing in platoon formation over the scraggy battle-scarred plain. They were probably two miles distant from the retreating Huns.
Blaine darted back and sent out his signal flares, announcing the fact. Indicating the probable distance, he waited for the barrage he was sure would come. Bangs, seeing that Lafe was signaling, doused his now useless Boche flares and confirmed what Blaine had signaled. Presently the barrage began, and now both saw that it was incumbent on them to remain up there as long as possible to assist the new Allied assault by rendering their barrage effective.
But Bangs once more perplexed Lafe by another manifestation of his way of fooling the Germans. More and more Blaine was perplexed.
"Where in sin did Buck get read up in Boche code flares like he is now?I know a thing or two, but he's got me beat to the woodpile this time!"
Bangs, spiraling upward and back towards the Hun front, was sending forth flare after flare that was meaningless to Lafe, yet which was for some purpose. Then suddenly Buck shot off on the side towards Blaine the following words in the code familiar to all Allied spad-pilots.
"Get back! Tell our folks to double their fire, keeping ahead of our advance. Savvy?"
Blaine mutely obeyed. The Allied fire was redoubled as per instructions. Buck, by this time far to the east, could now be seen making back towards the Allied front where Blaine was zigzagging to and fro waiting for what might come. Suddenly, behind Bangs, he saw the speck-like dots of Teuton planes emerging into the upper air and rapidly approaching. At the same time other planes in the west appeared, biplanes, scouts, and one or more heavy battle planes. Evidently the cards were being laid for a squadron air battle unless something else intervened. Instinctively Lafe thought of his ammunition roll. He was well supplied at starting on this trip, and had transferred his own remaining stock to Finzer's plane when abandoning his own. But the most of it had already been used. It was not likely that Buck was any better prepared in that line. At least they might wait and join their own planes, now coming out of the west.
In the east the hostile squadron came on rapidly. Deploying as they advanced, both Blaine and Bangs could see that there were battle planes, scouts, and heavy bombing machines. These last were sweeping lower, trying to get in range of the advancing Allies.
"Come on! Hurry up!" both aviators kept repeating to their own advancing air fleet. "No time to waste! Let's get at 'em. They're going to bomb our front lines."
Almost immediately a number of fast triplanes forged on ahead of the rest at a speed which a year before would have been deemed impossible. Joining the two weary airmen who had been up all night, yet were still full of the battle hunger, they swept low down and straight at the bombing planes, now beginning to drop their deadly explosives along the lines of advancing infantry. But only for an instant, as it were, did they go uninterrupted.
A hail of bullets from machine guns rained down upon them. In almost no time two of these planes went staggering earthward. Blaine, forgetting his almost empty sheaves of Lewis gun ammunition, hung upon the tail of one, while Buck, with side loops and a nose dive, flung himself almost literally on another.
"Holy Moses!" ejaculated Buck as his last full sheaf went into the cartridge roll, and he realized that with this gone he would be absolutely helpless. "I don't want to quit. But if this don't fetch another one, I'll have to. I'll have to anyhow."
In the meantime, the Boche fighting planes had mixed in with the Allied fighters, interrupting their assault upon the bombers. And such an exhibition of diving, darting, nose dipping, looping, and what not had seldom been seen along that extended front.
Realizing the damage to be done by bombs on the unprotected infantry charging below, both Blaine and his comrade kept strictly after the bombing planes. Let those fresh arrivals who had plenty of ammunition attend to the fighting Fokkers and other battling planes that had arrived so inopportunely.
By this time the anti-aircraft guns were getting in their work. With the targets so close, though darting hither and yonder with bewildering speed, two of the German fighting planes were soon zigzagging towards the ground. One fell right in the path of a disorderly advance of the infantry, which happened to be a well-known Canadian battalion. From his perch, his own ammunition exhausted, Blaine saw those troops surge around and over that unlucky plane, then pass on, leaving a flaming wreck behind.
The bombs began to explode. Blaine saw the danger to other troops behind. It so happened that these troops were Sammies and Blaine, with a swoosh, swept down to within a dozen yards right over the heads of these men and the column heard his megaphone bellowing:
"Watch out, bunkies! 'Ware that wrecked plane! She's full of Boche bombs. Watch out — spread out! Give it room! Oh, you doughboys! Rah for Uncle Sam!"
Recognizing the meaning and divining that it must be an American, theSammies shouted back as they divided and gave the necessary room:
"Oh, you Spaddy! What you doin' down so low? Rah for you! Bully boy!Rah, rah, rah! You're all right!"
And on they went, comforted themselves, and comforting the weary, ammunitionless aviator who now recognized that his present job was about over.
His plane was literally shot to pieces. The wings hung in tatters. Only the vital mechanism that kept him moving, thereby supporting him in the air, fortunately remained untouched. Even now he staggered and with difficulty rose a trifle upward, while off to the right he saw Bangs in even a worse fix.
The latter, with his wings honeycombed by bullet holes, had received the full charge of a machine gun from some passing battle plane in an around his propellers. His supply of ammunition too was now exhausted.
Could he make the ground in a safe place? With every ounce of power, his propeller crank revolving like lightning, still he made alarmingly slow progress. Good reason why. Two of his propeller blades were shot off. The other two were revolving swifter than can be imagined. He felt that he was drifting down, down, amid the riff-raff, smoke and confusion of a battlefield over, which the thunders of conflict had twice passed.
Above, the aerial battle was still going on, though making towards the east; for the Germans, following their retiring columns, were being slowly yet persistently pushed back to their trenches. Occasional bullets spattered about him. Day was fully on, and a rising sun disclosed a prospect of clearing skies.
There was a ruined house or cabin just ahead. Could he land there? It lay deserted for the time being amid war wreck and ruin, its roof battered in, its stone walls crumbling. Still it promised temporary shelter. Blaine had vanished. Had his plane gone down? Was he smitten by a stray bullet? Had his plane, unguided, crashed to the earth? Would he, Bangs, live to?
Buck's hurried thoughts were suddenly checked by a sharp, stinging sensation that began at his side, then seemed to fill him completely. At the same time he realized that his hands no longer hold the steering wheel. He strove to seize it again, but his muscles did not obey. A stupor was on him. The sunlight faded, gave way to a bewildering maze of twinkling stars. His last conscious sensation was that his machine was crashing downward. Then came a long mental blank.
Meantime Blaine was having his own troubles.
The rest of the air fighting had gone eastward, while he was contending with the increased crippling of his planes. Overhead he saw only the now clearing sky. Ahead of him, beyond a rippling stream, lay certain trenches held, he felt sure, by his own side. But could be reach them? Far behind the noise of battle rumbled. Where was Buck? Somehow he had lost sight of his comrade within the last few minutes.
"Buck is a good, bang-up fellow. We ought to go back together."
But his power was waning. Try as he might, the plane was sagging groundward. Only Blaine's skillful efforts kept it from dropping with a crash which he knew would probably be the end of him — Lafe Blaine.
What was that just below him which some scraggy shell-torn timber had kept him from seeing before?
"Looks like a piece of a house," he muttered.
Stoutly he tried to make the small open space around this half ruined hovel. Almost he made, it. But just beyond a crumbling stone wall, that once must have been the enclosure of a tidy yard, the tail of his machine dipped all at once. It struck the wall, causing the heavier bow, weighted with the propellers, the petrol tank and the machinery, to crash downward with force.
The recoil sent Blaine, now at the last physical gasp, plunging forward over the almost perpendicular machine. He struck the earth heavily, and lay there almost insensible, while the vanquished plane fell sideways, striking wall and ground, then, with a last respiration not unlike that of its master, it lay still, a wreck for the time being.
From out the house two skirted figures ran, figures in nurse's attire, with the omnipresent red cross blazoned conspicuously on their white-capped headgear.
"Oh, Andra, Andra!" cried the first to the one following. The last cast a swift glance back inside the cabin. Then she, too, hurried to the prostrate form lying beside the wrecked machine.
Two days later. The scene had changed. The Allied front, leaving the rippling stream some two miles or more in the rear, was now showing a convex bend towards the foe instead of a concave hollow, as was the case before the :fighting.
The little half-ruined cabin was in decidedly better shape than before. A number of Red tents and temporary wooden shelters had risen if by magic in the small open space around. Trenches stretched eastward, communicating the new trenches now occupied by Americans French, with a sprinkling of British forces.
That the new front was considered as something to be held permanently was further indicated the rapid construction of a new road for automobiles and motor-car traffic along this new line. Even ties, lumber and rails were being piled here and there, as foretokening that one more of the many short lines of railway was now being prepared for use in the near future.
Still further back was another aerodrome, unfenced as yet, but nearly completed. There was one reassuring sign of its ownership and occupancy. As the light winds flared out its folds, so that all who saw might read, there floated out our own national emblem, the Stars and Stripes.
Inside the restored hut lay Buck Bangs on a white cot, while on another reclined the stalwart form of Lafayette Blaine. Both of these spad pilots, though pale and looking rather the worse for wear, showed such evidence of comfort and bodily ease that one felt sure things must have happened to both. On the lapel of each coat was military decoration, evidently very recently bestowed.
Blaine at last threw down the magazine he was reading and glared at his partner, who moved with more difficulty when he changed his reclining position for one less unbearable.
"What's got into you, Buck?" said Blaine impatiently. "Why don't you go to sleep? Afraid you'll dream of that pretty girl what picked you up?"
"Little good I get dreaming of her, Lafe! But wasn't it queer? Just as soon as you got straight and I was out of danger, off they went-bang! Durn it! They was both here yesterday while the Doe and Sawbones were at work. My, how that girl could smile — and exclaim!"
"That was one thing she could do, Buck." Blaine grinned. "All her exclaiming was in good Yankee English — real United States."
"And what have we got waiting on us now? Ugh!" Buck made a painful face, but whether caused by his thought or by having to change his position again was not at first apparent.
A middle-aged, rather homely, yet kindly nurse entered and puttered round them both. At last she inquired in rather lame English:
"Will Monseurs, so lately promoted for their gallantry — will they have anything more? I shall be delight to —"
"No, no, Madame," broke in Buck, while Blaine furtively grinned. "We are doing finely-finely — ouch!"
"Ees zat anew pain?" The elderly nurse was at once by his side. "We must rest quiet, mon enfant. Quiet for joost one day more. Then you will be moved to our nearest base -"
"Say, Madame!" Buck was interrupting eagerly, "what has become of the girls that were here yesterday?"
"Ah-h! Yes, yes! They are grand Mesdemoiselles — both. Reech! La, la! I hear their father owns r-railroads in your countree. Oui! Yiss, yiss, all right. Zere! I am learning ze language. It cooms easy - adieu!" And she vanished through the door.
"What do you think of that, Lafe? Why were those two young girls, both Red Cross apprentices, why were they left here alone? Don't they know the Boches would rather bomb a hospital than eat wienerwurst for lunch? And then as soon as the place became really safe, off they go; but where?"
"Say, Buck, you make me tired! Hush up! I guess we'll meet up with them some day soon. If we don't — what's the odds?"
"And their daddy — so this blessed old mollycoddle says — owns real United States railroads. Makes me sick! But — say, Lafe! Wasn't that youngest one a beaut? If ever I get a furlough, I'm going to look her up."
"And be a fool for your pains! Look here, you do have sense enough to put up a good fight in the air. But on the ground, the real earth, you're becoming a fool."
But Buck rolled, and grumbled, and so wore himself out fretting that on the next day it was decided to send them both to the base hospital for a week, which was duly done.
Three days more and Blaine, now an ensign, besides having his French decoration) had so nearly regained his strength that he no longer lay on a cot, but sat and walked about, a convalescent.
Buck Bangs, now a sergeant, still fretted and grumbled, improving more slowly. The new stripes on his arm cheered him somewhat, yet he eagerly eyed each group of visitors who strolled through the wards, the reading rooms, and other parts of the big base hospital where the two were convalescing. But, so far, his longings were ungratified.
A few hundred yards further back, on the edge of a French village that now quartered a brigade of our Sammies, was the new aerodrome where (quite a number of Uncle Sam's new aviators were on duty, day and night. Most of those we have met before were there, all except poor Finzer and a few others that had fallen in the various raids that had taken place from time to time. There was Erwin, now a corporal; Lex Brodno, His American Pole, and others . Byers was in charge, with Anson and one or two other British aviators detailed to help the new American airmen get into thorough shape and training.
This recent transfer from the other station had taken place while Blaine and Bangs were absent raiding and subsequently in the hospital. Bauer, the fellow who had made the signal to the enemy the night that raid started, had been tried by court-martial and was to have been shot but on the night before the intended execution he managed to escape, probably by connivance of somebody. It was afterward heard that he had gotten back to Germany by some hook or crook. Would he ever pay the penalty he had so richly deserved? That remains yet to be seen.
On the day when Byers himself escorted Blaine and Bangs from the hospital to the aviation camp, there were many visitors. Amid the cordial welcomes given them by their old comrades and also many new ones, Buck anxiously scanned each group of visitors as they passed. Lafe joked him about this.
"Why, you poor stiff," said the new ensign, "where are you looking? What's wrong, anyhow? Gee! Isn't it jolly to be back among the boys — well, well!"
Blaine interrupted himself when Buck, his eyes roving, suddenly espied two young women, garbed as Red Cross nurses - novitiates — wandering amid the new hangars in which were a score or more of the American machines. Straightway Buck had bolted.
Blaine, following him with his eyes, saw Buck doff his aviator's cap as he reached the group that also included an elderly man and lady, and another matronly form which was easily recognized by many as the head nurse in charge of the new Red Cross stations within the American sector.
"Durn me if he isn't shaking hands with those girls!" soliloquized Lafe. "The cheek of him! If he wasn't such a mighty good fellow, I'd call him down!"
But Blaine was a pretty good chap himself. He and Erwin had come together and were exchanging cordial small talk concerning what had happened to each recently, when he again saw Buck with these visitors strolling leisurely by towards the nearest landing stage. Towards this place a pair of swift scouts were making, on their return from the German front somewhere east.
"Know those folks?" he idly queried of Orris, now a corporal.
"Bet your life! Say, Lafe, who doesn't know of Senator Knute Walsen ofIdaho? He's a big man, over here to supervise our rail transportationin France. See those two Red Cross girls? They're his daughters.Taking courses in nursing, I hear, and right at the front too.Wouldn't that get you? Who is that showing them round?"
"That is Buck Bangs, from Butte, Montana — Our old Buck! What d'ye think of that, bo?"
"He seems quite intimate with 'em, don't he? Where'd he meet up with that crowd, Lafe?"
"Well, he and I sort o' dropped in on the girls just before we were in the relief station. Remember, don't you? It was while we were returning home from that raid where poor Finzer got his."
"Don't say! Yes, of course, we've all heard how you and Buck piloted our fellows after you two had been out all night. Had a hell of a time — didn't you?" Suddenly Erwin looked his amazement. "Look here, Lafe. Honest Injun! Were those two daughters of old Walsen in that hut when you and Bangs just managed to make your landing there? Whoopee!"
Blaine had nodded, then looked after the receding group half regretfully. Orris gripped the Ensign's arm, and began telling things.
"They must be plucky girls, all right. It so happened that the older nurse — the one you and I saw later — had gone away with a desperately wounded man in an ambulance to the next base. After you and Buck landed, you were both bad off, he worse than you. Well, sir, the Boches shelled that hut before any one got back, and before our boys had driven the Boches clear off. What do you reckon those two girls did? They didn't holler: nary a squeal! But they stuck to you two and to business, and nursed you both, so that by the time aid arrived, you were all pretty comfortable. Some girls, those two! I hear that the younger, Miss Andra Walsen, is going to remain. Maybe they both are. And as for money, there's wads of it in the family, believe me! No wonder Bucky is bucking up to 'em a bit!"
After this lengthy exordium, Orris discreetly, changed the subject by wanting to know when he and Buck would be assigned again to duty.
"I'm ready right now. Whether Buck is or not I can't say. As for me,I've got the old flying fever, big and hot. I suppose it rests withByers."
Later on as the group whom they had been discussing approached, Blaine and his friend were introduced. Andra, it was plain to see, had ready given poor Buck a deal to think about later on. She was handsome, dark-eyed, light-haired with a peachy complexion — a combination hard indeed for a susceptible youth to resist. Avella, her sister, blue-eyed, dark-haired, a year older than her sister, was equally fascinating, yet in a different way.
Both were kindly, earnest, in love with their new work, and ready to go anywhere or do anything that would serve the good cause.
As a matter of course, when Erwin excused himself on plea of other business and the Senator, looking at his watch, found he had an appointment with Byers, the four young people were left alone. By couples they strolled through the aerodrome, inspecting this, commenting on that, while other fliers regarded the boys with more or less envy.
After a while several specks were seen in the eastern sky that approached rather more rapidly than was usual with friendly planes at such time of day. Blaine had his glasses out, while listening to the comments of the girls on the difficulties they bad in bringing both boys into that hut and dressing their wounds.
"We had to go for water," said Avella.
"You see we hadn't been there but a day or so. I went, and nearly got lost among the old shell craters before I got to the spring that was an awful distance off. It was dark, and so smoky! I was afraid something might happen while I was away."
"You sure were mighty good to us," remarked Blaine. "What luck! To come way over here and be saved by two lovely girls right from our own part of the world. Can you beat it, Buck?"
"Don't want to beat it! Say, you ladies are our own kind of folks.I'll be homesick when you two leave."
"Perhaps we won't leave — yet." Avella smiled enigmatically. "Papa is willing for us to stay. At first I was going with him; but he says Andra and I would need each other to keep from getting homesick."
"Look, look!" Andra was gazing through Buck's glasses at the approaching planes, which had a strange look as they flew at tremendous speed in V formation. "What if they should not be friendly?"
Just then Blaine closed his own glass for he saw flyers coming on the run.
"Are you two all right?" he called to the boys. "All our best men are off on the daily run over the Boche trenches. I cannot think how these fellows got by. Get down to the hangars, if you feel strong enough. I may have to go up myself . They're making straight for us."
The girls were looking on in wonder, whereat Byers turned to them.
"You better get into the bomb-proofs," he said. "Your father's yonder."
The Senator was seen hurrying from one of the buildings towards them.
Both the aviators, seeing, Erwin and Brodno on the run, joined them and hastened on down to where mechanics were trundling out a number of machines upon the smooth level that was the starting point nearest. With a word to the Senator, Byers followed, while the girls both waved their handkerchiefs. Said Andra to her sister:
"Let us go on down. I want to see them start. Do you think Mr. Bangs is strong enough? Look at him run!"
"I guess he is as strong as Mr. Blaine. But they both really ought to have a few days' leave, don't you think?"
Arrived on the driveway, half a dozen men, all in the leather uniforms with caps and goggles to match, were mounting the machines nearest. Blaine, having donned his rig on the run, as it were, was already in a triplane much like the one he had last used. Turning to the mechanic, he asked:
"It cannot be my own machine, is it?"
"Sure thing!" the man replied. "It was sent to us the day after you got in. We fixed her up, thinking you might need it. Glad you are out so soon, Ensign."
"Thanks for that! I reckon we'll need all we got by the looks of that squad that's coming. They're dropping bombs already."
"Yes, sir," said another mechanic, using his glass. "And right over where you and Sergeant Bangs came down."