soon found their
way to the lodgings of Mrs. Gleason, where the air service boys were
welcomed by Bessie and Nellie.

Of course the first question had to do with the captive Harry, and to
the delight of Nellie Tom was able to say:

"We have news of him, anyhow."

"News? You mean he is all right?"

"Well, as all right as he ever can be while the Boches have him, I
suppose," was the answer.

"But the news didn't come direct from him. He's in another camp. I'll
tell you about it."

Tom and Jack, by turns, related what had happened on the night patrol,
and explained how they had overheard talk of Harry.

"Then he is nearer than he has been?" asked Nellie.

"Yes," admitted Tom.

"Won't it be easier to rescue him then?" Bessie queried.

"Well, that doesn't follow," said Jack. "Of course if we could rescue
him, we'd have a shorter distance to bring him, to get him inside our
lines. But it's just as difficult getting beyond the German lines now as
it was before. Tom and I thought we'd come and talk it over, and see if
you girls have anything to suggest. We'll do the rescue work if we only
get a chance, and can find some plan. Have you any?"

He asked that question, though he hardly expected an answer. And both he
and Tom, as well as Bessie and her mother, were greatly surprised when
Nellie exclaimed:

"Yes, I have!"

"You have?" cried Tom. "What is it? Tell us, quick!"

"I am going to save my brother by offering myself as a prisoner in his
place," said Nellie with quiet resolve. "That's how I'll save him! I'll
exchange myself for him!"

CHAPTER XXIII. THE BIG BATTLE

Nellie Leroy rose from, the chair where she had been sitting, and stood
before the little party of her friends, gathered in the little Paris
apartment where Bessie Gleason and her mother made their home when they
were not actively engaged in Red Cross work. The sister of the captive
airman had a quiet but very determined air about her.

"That is what I am going to do," she said, as no one at first answered
what had been a dramatic outbreak. "Perhaps you will tell me best how to
go about it," and she turned to Tom and Jack. "You know something of the
German lines, and where I can best go to give myself up."

"Why--why, you can't go at all!" burst out Tom.

"I can't go?"

"No, of course not. You mean all right, Nellie," went on the young man,
"but it simply can't be done. To give yourself up to the Germans would
mean for yourself