Air Service Boys in the Big Battle | Page 5

any idea of the
Boches who were in them-- "
"I see," and the surgeon bowed and smiled approval of their idea. "You want revenge. I
hope you get it. As soon as we think he is able to talk," and he nodded in the direction of
the hospital, "we will let you see him. Good luck to you, and confusion to the Huns!"
"Gee, but this is tough luck I" murmured Tom, as he and his chum turned away. "Just as
we were getting ready to go back into the game, too! Had it all fixed up for Harry to fly
with us in a sort of a triangle scheme to down the Boches, and they have to go and plump
him off the map. Well, it is tough!"
"Yes, sort of takes the fun out of the good news we heard a while ago," agreed Jack. "I
mean about Pershing's boys getting over here to France. I hope Harry's only wounded,
instead of killed. But if the Huns have him a prisoner--good-night!"
"There's only one consolation," added Tom. "Their airmen are the best of the lot Of
course that isn't saying much, but they behave a little more like human beings than the
rest of the Boche gang; and if Harry has fallen a prisoner to them he'll get a bit of decent
treatment, anyhow."
"That's so. We'll hope for that. And now let's go on with what we started when we saw
Du Boise coming back--let's see what chance we have of being transferred to an All
American escadrille."
The boys started across the field again toward the headquarters, and, nearing it, they saw,

in a small motor car, a girl sitting beside the military driver. She was a pretty girl, and it
needed only one glance to show that she was an American.
"Hello!" exclaimed Tom, with a low whistle. "Look who's here!"
"Do you know her?" asked Jack.
"No. Wish I did, though."
Jack glanced quickly and curiously at his chum.
"Oh, you needn't think you're the only chap that has a drag with the girls," went on Tom.
"Just because Bessie Gleason--"
"Cut it out!" exclaimed Jack. "Look, she acts as though she wanted to speak to us."
The military chauffeur had alighted from the machine and was talking to one of the
French aviation officers. Meanwhile the girl, left to herself, was looking about the big
aviation field, with a look of wonder, mixed with alarm and nervousness. She caught
sight of Tom and Jack, and a smile came to her face, making her, as Tom said afterward,
the prettiest picture he had seen in a long while.
"You're Americans, aren't you?" began the girl, turning frankly to them. "I know you are!
And, oh, I'm in such trouble!"
Tom stepped ahead of Jack, who was taking off his cap and bowing.
"Let me have a show for my white alley," Tom murmured to his chum. "You've got one
girl."
"You win," murmured Jack.
"Yes, we're from the United States," said Tom. "But it's queer to see a girl here--from
America or anywhere else. How'd you get through the lines, and what can we do for
you?"
"I am looking for my brother," was the answer. "I understood he was stationed here, and I
managed to get passes to come to see him, but it wasn't easy work. I met this officer in
his motor car, and he brought me along the last stage of the journey. Can you tell me
where my brother is? His name is Harry Leroy."
Torn said afterward that he felt as though he had gone into a spinning nose dive with a
Boche aviator on his tail, while Jack admitted that he felt somewhat as he did the time his
gasoline pipe was severed by a Hun bullet when he was high in the air and several miles
behind the enemy's lines,
"Your--your brother!" Tom managed to mutter.
"Yes, Harry Leroy. He's from the United States, too. Perhaps you know him, as I notice

you are both aviators. He told me if I ever got to France to come to see him, and he
mentioned the names of two young men--I have them here somewhere--"
She began to search in the depths of a little leather valise she carried, and, at that moment,
the military chauffeur who had brought her to the aviation field turned to her, and spoke
rapidly in French.
She understood the language, as did Tom and Jack, and at the first words her face went
white. For the chauffeur informed her that her brother, Harry Leroy, whom she had come
so far to see, was, even then, lying dead or wounded within the German lines.
"Oh!" the girl murmured, her fare becoming whiter and more