ith the squadron to the
headquarters assigned to it, as near the location of the big German gun
as possible, and there try to silence it.

The train the picked squadron was traveling on was late, and it was dusk
when they alighted at the railroad station.

"Think we'll have a chance to see anything of the bombardment?" asked
Boughton.

"I was going to say I hoped not," answered Tom, "for I wish the beastly
gun, or guns, would blow up. But that would take away our chance to pot
'em, and I know we all want to do that. You may see something, though
they don't bombard at night as often as they do by day. Of late,
however, before we left, the night firing was more frequent. Possibly
they have found some means of hiding the gun flashes or of letting them
mingle with others along a line so the exact location of the big Bertha
is a matter of doubt."

As they alighted from the train, and were about to seek some taxicabs to
take them to lodgings that had been assigned them, they all became aware
of the fact that something unusual was going on. Suddenly the electric
lights went out, leaving the region about the station, and indeed all of
Paris, in comparative darkness.

At the same time a motor fire engine rushed screeching through the
streets, giving an alarm.

"What is it?" cried Boughton. "Is the big gun firing?"

"It's a Zeppelin raid! I was here once before when they had one," said
the Englishman coolly. "Mind your heads, boys. Just our rotten luck not
to have a machine to go up after it."

He hurried out into the open street where he could have a view of the
sky, and the others followed. There was more excitement than during the
bombardment of the big gun. People were rushing here and there in search
of safe places, and taxicabs, with their lamps like fireflies in the
darkness, were skidding hither and yon, their horns calling for a clear
way.

Suddenly there was a muffled roar, at some distance off. This was
followed by a hoarse murmur, as though a burst of rage from many throats
at the unspeakable outrage of the Huns in killing women and children.

At the same time the anti-aircraft guns, with which Paris is so
efficiently guarded, began to bark and to send their red flashes out
into the blackness of the night. They were shooting at the Zeppelin, as
yet unseen by the men of the picked squadron, and the gunners aimed
according to instructions sent them by wireless from scouts hovering in
the air above the city.