and Jack to be relieved for a rest period. And the days had
been anxious because Tom had not heard from his father.

"I hope the vessel he was coming on wasn't torpedoed," said Tom to his
chum. "He's had more than time to get here and send me some word. None
has come. Jack, I'm worried!" And Tom certainly looked it.

CHAPTER III

ON TO PARIS

Those were the days--and they had been preceded by many such--when
travel across the Atlantic was attended with great risk and uncertainty.
No one knew when a lurking German submarine might loose a torpedo at a
ship carrying men, women and children. Many brave and innocent people
had found watery graves, and perhaps suffered first a ruthless fire from
the German machine guns, which were even turned on lifeboats! So it was
no wonder that Tom Raymond was worried about his father.

"It's queer we can't get any word from the authorities in Paris,"
remarked Jack, as he and his chum were speculating one day on what might
have happened.

"Yes, and that helps to bother me," Tom admitted. "It isn't as if they
weren't trying, for the officers here have done all they can. They've
gotten off my messages, but they say there is no reply to them."

"Then it must mean that your father, if he is in Paris, hasn't received
them."

"Either that, Jack; or else he doesn't dare reply."

"Why wouldn't he dare to, Tom?"

"Well, I don't know that I can give a good reason. It might be that he
is on such a secret mission that he doesn't want even to hint about it.
And yet I can't understand why he doesn't send me at least a message
that he has arrived safely."

As Tom said this he looked at his chum. The same thought was in the mind
of each one:

Had Mr. Raymond arrived safely?

That was what stirred Tom's heart. He knew the danger he and Jack had
run, coming across to do their part in flying for France, and he well
realized that the Germans might have been more successful in attacking
the vessel on which his father had sailed, than they had the one which
had carried Tom and Jack.

"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Jack of his chum. "You know we
arranged, when we should get our leave, to go back to that pretty little
French village, which seemed so peaceful after all the noise of battle
and the roar of the aeroplane engines."

"Yes, I know we planned that," said Tom, reflectively. "But, somehow, I
feel that I ought to stay here."

"And not take our relief?"

"Oh, no. We'll