e've got to help!" declared Tom. "We must pitch in, Jack, and lend a
hand here. The soldiers seem to be in charge. Let's report to the
commanding officer and offer our services."

"But your father?"

"That's the best way to find him if he's in those ruins. Let us help get
the unfortunates out. I hope I don't find him, but I must make sure."

Making their way through the press of people, which, under order of the
police and military authorities, had begun to disperse in some small
measure, Tom and Jack reported to the officer in charge, giving him
their names and rank, at the same time showing their papers.

"We want to help," the lads told him.

"And I ask no better," was the quick response. "There are dead and dying
under that pile. They must be gotten out."

And then began heart-rending scenes. Tom and Jack did valiant work in
carrying out the dead and dying, in both of which classes were men,
women and children.

The German beasts were living up to the mark they had set for themselves
in their war of frightfulness.

Each time a dead or injured man was reached, to be carried out for
hospital treatment or to have the last sad rites paid him, Tom nerved
himself to look. But he did not see his father, and some small measure
of thankfulness surged into his heart. But there were still others
buried deep under the ruins, and it would be some time before their
bodies, dead or alive, could be got out.

As the soldiers and police worked, on all sides could be heard
discussions as to what new form or manner of weapon the Germans were
using thus to reach Paris. Many inclined to the theory that it was a new
form of airship, flying so high as to be not only beyond ordinary
observation, but to be unreachable by the type of planes available at
Paris.

"If we could only find a piece of the shell we could come nearer to
guessing what sort of gun fired it," remarked Tom, as the two Air
Service boys rested a moment from their hard, terrible labors.

"Do you mean if it was dropped from an airship it wouldn't have any
rifling grooves on it?" asked Jack.

"That's it. A bomb, dropped from an aeroplane, would, very likely, be
only a sort of round affair, set to explode on contact or by a time
fuse. But if it was a shell fired from a long-range gun, there might be
enough of it left, after the explosion, to observe the rifling."

"There isn't a gun with a range long enough to reach Paris from the
nearest German lines, unless th