he plans of the enemy and was back on the
ground before you could tell about it. The war was looking up! And this
instructor was no slouch. What this squadron wouldn't do to the enemy
when an over-cautious Chief of Air Service said "Let's go!"

Hearing their comments, McGee smiled. He knew, better than they, the
great element of luck in his victory.

The enemy, whose aim it had been to thoroughly frighten and subdue this
green squadron, had succeeded instead in greatly increasing their
confidence in themselves. The enemy had come to sow destruction; they
had actually planted a seed that sprang instantly from the ground,
bearing the bold and sturdy flower of self-confidence. Old dogs of war
had been unleashed, and now a new pack was yelping on the trail.

"Where is Major Cowan?" McGee asked.

"Over at the hospital tent," someone answered.

"Oh, I see. Perhaps it's just as well. He might not care to sign a
confirmation after reading my recommendation. Which one of you will give
me a confirmation?"

As one man they surged forward.

"Just a minute!" Red laughed. "I said which one. On second thought I
guess I'd better leave that to the C.O. First victory from his squadron,
you know."

"His squadron nothing!" Yancey growled. "You don't belong to us--yet."

"No, but I'm here by assignment; I wouldn't want to hurt anyone's
feelings." He chuckled. "I'm afraid, though, that the last paragraph in
this report has a sort of stinger in it."

"Let's see it," Hampden urged.

McGee handed him the report. Hampden read it, whistled softly and passed
it to Yancey, who read quite as slowly as he talked. A look of
disappointment spread over his face.

"It's a report, I reckon," he said slowly, "but it's about as satisfyin'
as a mess of potato chips would be to a hungry cowhand. It's as thin as
skimmed milk. Say, who won this fight? You or the other fellow?"

"I believe that report will give me the credit," McGee answered.

"Maybe. And that last paragraph will win somebody a bawlin' out. Cowan
will ask you to change that. Looks like inefficiency on somebody's
part."

"Perhaps it is. It goes as it stands. After all, it goes through
channels to the Royal Flying Corps, you know. I'm flying their ship and
still under their orders."

"Well, when I get my first one," Yancey replied, "believe me, they'll
get the full details, and when they get through readin' it they'll think
I'm the bimbo what invented flyin'. Those white-collar