siderable forest far to his
right and another one several kilometers directly ahead. Directly
between these a ribbon of white marked its twisting course. That would
be the Ourcq, and the forest beyond would be the Forest de Nesles.
And--yes, there just beyond the river was a town--which McGee concluded
must be Fere-en-Tardenois--and a little way from its outskirts a group
of drab square blocks that caught and held his eyes.

Too much ground haze to make them out. Well, a chance is a chance, he
reasoned, as over went the Camel's nose in a long dive.

Twice he checked the dive, only to dive again. He hated to give up
altitude, but he was determined to get a look.

After the third dive, and the loss of several thousand feet, he made out
the drab-colored canvas hangars of a German 'drome, and poised on the
open field was a veritable swarm of little moths appearing to be drying
their wings in the sun. Three of them began racing along the ground and
bounded into the air. At the same minute an Archie battery opened from
the town. The burst was wide of McGee's plane, but there was no
mistaking their sincerity nor the fact that those three harmless
appearing moths below were climbing to the attack.

Red gave his Camel all he thought it could stand as he climbed for the
protecting clouds. Information was of no value if sealed by a dead man's
lips. He had learned far too much this morning to chance any fight with
anyone that could possibly be avoided.

The Archie fire continued until he had regained the clouds, and even
then two or three more shells burst harmlessly somewhere ahead in the
grey mist wall. He changed his direction sharply and roared along on a
full throttle.

His heart was racing with his motor. He felt convinced that the 'drome
he had located was a new base for the squadron he had just seen, for
were they not coming up from the interior? Doubtless he had stumbled on
to a movement of some importance. Just how important he could not know,
but G 2 would be delighted with such information. Could that squadron, he
wondered, by rare good fortune be the Circus of the famed von Herzmann?

Over Etrepilly an Archie battery hurled aloft a smashing,
plane-staggering burst of black puff balls. A jagged piece of steel tore
through his left wing. Too close, that!

He dived steeply. More shells burst above him. Above, but still
uncomfortably close. Those gunners were real marksmen.

Suddenly he thought of what he had see