am now. No longer any shouting, only a
waving of hands, a few last minute adjustments as the motors warmed and
sent a mighty dust cloud whirling back to obliterate the spot where the
hangar had stood.

Straight ahead, a fiery red ball rose over a slate-colored hedge. A long
flight of ravens crossed directly before the rising sun. Huh! Clumsy
fellows. And slow. Better come over and take some lessons from some real
birds.

Cowan's plane moved forward slowly, roared into life and fairly sprang
into the fiery eye of the sun. Numbers two and three followed, skimming
the dew drenched grass like swallows over a lake. Then four and five. By
George, this was something like! This was worth waiting for!

The falconer of war had unhooded his new brood of hawks and they mounted
up, free of bells and jesses.

2

The flight to the airdrome some six kilometers south of Epernay was made
without incident. That is, it was thought to be without incident until
Yancey, leading B Flight, reported to Cowan that Siddons had been forced
down by some trouble over Vitry. Cowan was evidently displeased. He had
hoped for a perfect score.

"What was the matter?" he demanded, the ends of his moustache twitching
nervously.

"Don't know, sir. He kept droppin' back. I swung alongside but I
couldn't savvy his signals. He kept pointin' back at his tail. I
couldn't see anything wrong, but there's a big 'drome at Vitry and he
signaled me that he was goin' down. I hung around to watch his landin'
and then hustled back to my flight."

"Fuel up, fly back there and see what's wrong," Cowan ordered. "I've a
sneaky suspicion that he wasn't as bad off as he made out."

As Yancey turned toward his ship, McGee came up, smiling with pleasure
over the success of the flight.

"Just a minute, Yancey!" Cowan called. "I've changed my mind. You
needn't go back."

He drew McGee to one side. "Do you remember passing over the French
'drome outside of Vitry?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Your plane is in good order?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Yancey tells me that Siddons was forced down there. I want you to
refuel, go back there and see what the trouble was. I have my own
ideas."

"Yes?" McGee queried.

"That fellow hates formation flying like the devil hates holy water,"
Cowan answered. "He's a joy-rider. He knows how anxious I am to effect
this move without a hitch, and he also knows there'll be no passes into
Epernay to-night. I've a hunch Vitry looked good