our
ability to make the change without scattering our ships all along the
line of flight. For my part, I have no such fear. I think I know the
ability of this pursuit group." He hesitated, to let this sink in. And
it was well that he did. Yancey gasped, and began coughing to cover it
up. Hank Porter stepped on Hampden's boot with great force. Hampden in
turn nudged Siddons, who alone of all the group displayed no emotion.
Never before had these men heard Cowan indulge in compliment. Something
had come over him. His moustache actually looked a little more like a
_man's_ moustache. In fact, Yancey thought, the blasted thing was
almost military.

"However," Cowan continued, "we will fly to a field just south of
Epernay to-day. To-morrow morning we will take off and continue a
course, almost parallel with the present lines, to La Ferte sous
Jouarre. Our destination has been kept confidential until this moment.
From necessity, of course, I have gone over the maps and our course with
the flight leaders. They know the way. In case one of them should be
forced down, that flight will double up with one of the others. You have
little to worry about. Keep your head and remember where you are going.
If forced down, proceed to La Ferte sous Jouarre, on the Paris-Metz
road, at the earliest moment. But," he added, slowly, "as I said before,
I expect to see us arrive there together, and in order. That is all,
gentlemen. Yonder comes the sun. To your ships now, and look sharp as
you take off. Remember, this is no joy-ride. Hold your positions."

The pilots broke into a run for their ships, slapping one another on the
shoulder as they ran.

"Luck, old war horse."

"Same to you, big feller."

"Hey, Yancey! If you're leading B Flight, give her the gun and high-tail
it. The war's waiting!"

"S'long, Hank. Luck, feller."

"Get a waddle on, Mac. The war's lookin' up, eh?"

"I hope to spit in your mess kit."

Laughing, bantering, shouting, they climbed into their planes. The
helpers stood at the wings, ready to take out the chocks when the motors
had warmed; the mechanics took their places at the props. How envious
they were! The little wasps that they had so carefully groomed were
going forward to the battle zone, and every mechanic offered up prayer
that his ship would function perfectly and make good the hope which
Cowan had expressed.

A prop went over, _whish_! The first motor caught and roared.
Another ... another ... bedl