e a bit too warm, took up a zig-zag
course toward the Fatherland, but in a general course that would take
them back over Nancy, where they could find a larger target for their
bombs.

McGee, looking back, could see the searchlights sweeping eastward in
their efforts to keep the fleeing planes spotted. But their luck had
already been great indeed, and now they were again feverishly searching
the black and seemingly empty sky.

"Good time to tool this baby home," McGee thought as he swung around and
headed for the 'drome, its location still well marked for him by the
flickering flames of the fallen ship.

"Poor old Nancy!" he said aloud as he realized that the thwarted bombers
would likely spew out their hate on that sorely tried city. "I'm sorry
to wish this off on you, but you are used to it and these lads are not.
Talk about luck! I wonder what good angel is perched on my shoulder."

Back over the 'drome he signaled with his Very light pistol for landing
lights, his take-off having been too sudden to permit of thinking of
ground flares. He circled the field, waiting for the lights. No
response. He signaled again. Still no response.

"Too much excitement, I guess," he mused. Then he flew low over the
remains of the burning plane, around which had gathered a large
group--large enough, McGee thought, to include every man of the squadron
from the C.O. down to the lowliest greaseball.

"Humph! A fine target you'd make!" Red snorted, and felt like throwing
his Very pistol into the group. "Well, here goes! I've made darker
landings than this. And if I crack up--" he smiled as a grim Irish bull
flashed through his mind--"it will be a good lesson to the ground crew.
Nothing like Irish humor at a time like this."

2

If one who stands less than five feet six and is freckled of face and
red of hair can command hauteur and dignity, then it can be said that a
few minutes later McGee, with hauteur and dignity, strode into the
excited, gabbling group that surrounded the burning German plane. For a
moment none of them recognized him. With hands on hips, arms akimbo, he
stood watching them. He was still just a little too mad to trust his
tongue.

Major Cowan was the first to notice him. "Ah! Lieutenant McGee! I am--"

"No sir, I am Lieutenant McGee's ghost. McGee got his neck broken over
there just now--trying to make a landing in the dark. Your ground crew
were exceedingly helpful to him, Major. So nice of them to obey h