d anticipated an
easy victory over the other, whom he must have guessed was something of
a beginner at this sort of aerial combat. Tom's agility in avoiding
punishment annoyed him; likewise the way the bullets splashed around him
had a disconcerting effect on his mind.

This was the fifth dash, and it seemed as though the time had come when
one or the other should win the contest. They were growing more and more
desperate now; the fire of the battle had gone to their heads, and each
must have made up his mind to finish the fight then and there, judging
from the way they headed straight toward one another. At any rate Tom
had determined that he must win, and win without delay.

Bang!

Tom realized suddenly that he had been struck, for he felt a sudden
acute twinge. He neither knew nor cared how serious the injury might be,
so long as it did not incapacitate him from serving his machine. And,
best of all, thus far no missile from that popping mitrailleuse of the
German had done serious damage to the vitals of his plane.

Let the bullets cut holes all they pleased through the linen of the
wings; there would be no splitting, as happens in the case of cotton or
other fabrics; and such tiny apertures do not count for much in
retarding the upholding power of a plane.

Another dash, and this time Tom felt absolutely certain he had made a
hit. It seemed to him he must have fairly riddled the other pilot, so
close was he when he poured all that torrent of lead aboard his craft.

They rushed past one another, but Tom took the earliest possible
opportunity to redress, and look back at his foe. A thrill ran through
his entire being as he discovered that the other was in trouble. The
Fokker was descending in erratic spirals, evidently out of control. Man
or machine, perhaps both, had come within the deadly line of fire, and
the fight was over.

Turning, Tom watched the enemy plane go down. He had a queer, choking
sensation in his throat. Every novice probably feels that when he
watches his first rival heading earthward, with a mile or more to fall
before he strikes. Still, Tom grimly held his feelings in check. A
successful air pilot, especially when he manages a fighting craft, can
not let sentiment get the better of his combative spirit. It is a fair
test of skill and endurance, and as a rule the better man wins the game.
And war must always be an exhibition of cruelty in that human lives are
the stake played for.

Nevert