naming an intrepid French fighter. He was one of the "aces," and had more than a score of Boche machines to his credit. "He must have been out 'on his own,' looking for a stray German."
"Yes, he and Leroy went out together," assented Jack. "But I don't see Harry's machine," and anxiously he scanned the heavens.
Harry Leroy was, like Tom and Jack, an American aviator who had lately joined the force in which the two friends had rendered such valiant service. Tom and Jack had known him on the other side--had, in fact, first met and become friendly with him at a flying school in Virginia. Leroy had suffered a slight accident which had put him out of the flying service for a year, but he had persisted, had finally been accepted, and was welcomed to France by his chums who had preceded him.
"I hope nothing has happened to Harry," murmured Tom; "but I don't see him, and it's queer Du Boise would come back without him."
"Maybe he had to--for gasoline or something," suggested Jack.
"I hope it isn't any worse than that," went on Tom. But his voice did not carry conviction.
The French aviator landed, and as he climbed out of his machine, helped by orderlies and others who rushed up, he was seen to stagger.
"Are you hurt?" asked Tom, hurrying up.
"A mere scratch-nothing, thank you," was the answer.
"Where's Harry Leroy?" Jack asked. "Did you have to leave him?"
"Ah, monsieur, I bring you bad news from the air," was the answer. "We were attacked by seven Boche machines. We each got one, and then--well, they got me--but what matters that? It is a mere nothing."
"What of Harry?" persisted Tom.
"Ah, it is of him I would speak. He is--he fell inside the enemy lines; and I had to come back for help. My petrol gave out, and I--"'
And then, pressing his hands over his breast, the brave airman staggered and fell, as a stream of blood issued from beneath his jacket.
CHAPTER II
A GIRI'S APPEAL
At once half a score of hands reached out to render aid to the stricken airman, whose blood was staining the ground where he had fallen.
Tom, seeing that his fellow aviator was more desperately wounded than the brave man had admitted, at once summoned stretcher-bearers, and he was carried to the hospital. Then all anxiously awaited the report of the surgeons, who quickly prepared to render aid to the fighter of the air.
"How is he?" asked Jack, as he and Tom, lingering near the hospital, saw one of the doctors emerge.
"He is doing very nicely," was the answer, given in French, for the two boys of the air spoke this language now with ease, if not always with absolute correctness.
"Then he isn't badly hurt?" asked Jack.
"No. The wound in his chest was only a flesh one, but it bled considerably. Two bullets from an aircraft machine gun struck ribs, and glanced off from them, but tore the flesh badly. The bleeding was held in check by the pressure DU Boise exerted on the wounds underneath his jacket, but at last he grew faint from loss of blood, and then the stream welled out. With rest and care he will be all right in a few days."
"How soon could we talk with him?" asked Tom.
"Talk with him?" asked the surgeon. "Is that necessary? He is doing very well, and--"
"Tom means ask him some questions," explained Jack. "You see, he started to tell us about our chum, Harry Leroy, who was out scouting with him. Harry was shot down, so Du Boise said, but he didn't get a chance to give any particulars, and we thought--"
"It will be a day or so before he will be able to talk to you," the surgeon said. "He is very weak, and must not be disturbed."
"Well, may we talk with him just as soon as possible?" eagerly asked Jack. "We want to find out where it was that Harry went down in his machine--out of control very likely--and if we get a chance--"
"We'd like to take it out on those that shot him down!" interrupted Torn. "Du Boise must have noticed the machines that fought him and Harry, and if we could get 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
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