to his credit
and every time he goes out he comes back with his plane in shreds and
just barely holding together. You'd think it would cure him, but he eats
shrapnel. Has two planes to his credit, but he doesn't go in for planes.
He cuts formation exactly like you used to, Shrimp, and goes off high,
wide and lonesome, looking for sausages. He got one just this morning,
and I give you my word his ship looked like a sieve when he came in. The
Major threatens to ground him if he doesn't quit cutting formation, but
he's only bluffing. He's as proud as the rest of us."

"So Cowan is all right?" Red asked.

"He sure is _all right_," Larkin enthused. "He's an intolerable old
fuss budget and hard to get along with when on the ground or out of
action, but he's square, he's developed into a real commander, and he's
got sand a-plenty. He's coming down to see you to-morrow--and that's
going some for Cowan. He likes you a lot."

Red colored, and to change the subject, asked, "What about Hampden?
Didn't I see him go down just before I caught it?"

"Yes. Flamer. Poor devil!"

To Red's mind came the picture of Siddons, fleeing from the field of
action a few minutes before the tragic death of the only man in the
squadron who really called him friend. Friend, indeed!

"I suppose Siddons is still on top," McGee said, somewhat bitterly. "His
kind never get it."

A troubled look spread over Larkin's face. "You know," he began slowly,
"none of us can figure out that fellow. He didn't get back to the
squadron that day until just at dark. The news of Hampden's death seemed
to daze him, but he didn't say a word. Two days later he left the
squadron, and we thought he was gone for good--grounded for keeps or
sent home. But yesterday he turned up again, big as life. If Cowan is
displeased, he doesn't show it. We can't figure it out."

"I can!" McGee flared, then suddenly remembered that Cowan had charged
him with absolute secrecy concerning the discoveries he had made.

"Well then, what's the dope?" Larkin asked.

"Oh, he's got a heavy drag somewhere," Red replied, remembering that he
had passed his word to Major Cowan. "What about Hank Porter?" he asked,
to shift the subject.

Larkin shook his head, dismally. "Another one of Herzmann's Circus
filled him full of lead, but he tooled his ship back home before he
fainted from loss of blood. He's in a hospital for the rest of the war.
May never walk again."

McGee decided to do no more