terloo were pulled off now do you know
how the papers would describe it? They'd say that there was
'considerable activity on a section of the line over near Hougomont
Farm yesterday, where certain units under Napoleon and Wellington came
in contact. The artillery fire was fairly strong, and there were
clashes between a few infantry regiments and the French were repulsed.
Apart from this there is nothing to report.'"

The boys laughed.

"Everything's topsy-turvy nowadays," said Frank. "It used to be armies
that did the fighting. Now it's whole nations. But look at that scrap
going on overhead. Its a dandy."

They looked in the direction he indicated and their pulses quickened,
for they themselves had once been engaged in a battle in the sky, and
an aerial combat had a personal interest to them.

Far up in the sky, which just then was as clear as crystal, a duel was
in progress between two planes. It was evident at a glance that both
of the rival aviators were masters of their profession. They circled
deftly about each other like giant falcons, jockeying for position,
each trying to get the weather gauge on the other where he could rake
his opponent with his machine gun without exposing himself to his
enemy's fire in return.

Swooping, climbing, diving, the planes pursued their deadly purpose,
while exclamations of admiration came from the lips of the fascinated
onlookers as some specially daring manoeuvre promised to give the
advantage first to one and then to the other of the antagonists.

"Classy work!" exclaimed Frank.

"They're both dandies," declared Billy. "It's a toss up as to which
will win."

"They're so far up that it's hard to tell which is which," said Bart,
"but I've got a nickel that says the Hun will be downed."

"Great Scott," cried Frank. "One of them was hit that time. See it
swerve."

"And look at the smoke!" Billy shouted. "It's on fire! A bullet must
have hit the petrol tank."

A burst of smoke and flame shot out from the doomed plane, and it began
to fall, fire streaming out in its wake like the tail of a meteor.
Down it came like a plummet.

"It's coming right in our lines!" exclaimed Bart. "Scatter, fellows,
or it will be right on top of us!"

The wrecked plane had fallen about two hundred feet, when a figure shot
from the burning mass, whirling over and over as it descended. The
aviator, knowing that his only choice lay between being burned or
crushed, had chosen