up out of danger, and then swung around for a flight toward his own lines. He could see, ahead of him, the fleet of French planes, going back after the raid on the big guns. Tom's plane was the rearmost one.
Then he knew that he was safe! But he feared for Jack!
One after another, such as were left of the raiding party landed. Their comrades crowded around them, congratulating them with bubbling words of joy. Yet there was sorrow for those that did not return.
"Is he dead?" asked Tom, as orderlies quickly unstrapped Jack, and prepared to carry him to the hospital. "Is he dead?"
"Alive, but badly wounded," said a surgeon, who made a hasty examination.
And then all seemed to become dark to Tom Raymond.
"Well, Jack, old man, how do you feel?"
"Oh, pretty good! How's yourself?"
"Better, now that they've let me in to see you."
"You got the big guns, I understand."
"You mean you did, too. It was as much your doings as mine. Yes, we sprayed 'em good and proper. They won't fire on Paris again right away, but I suppose they'll not give up the trick,
