to him. I want you to
find out."

"Very well, sir."

"I'm sending you," Cowan explained, smiling faintly, "because it doesn't
make so much difference if you get lost, since you are merely 'also
along', and also because I don't expect you to get lost. Report to me
upon your return."

"Yes, sir."

3

The mission was not particularly pleasing to McGee. Chasing around after
Siddons was not his idea of a riotous time.

It was some fifty-five kilometers back to Vitry, but with a good tail
wind he made it in quick time. The French major in command of the
squadron stationed there was exceedingly gracious. Yes, the American had
landed, he told McGee, but he had taken off again within the hour. The
trouble? Well, he complained that his rudder was jamming, but the
mechanics could not find anything wrong. He had said, also, that his
motor was running too hot. Perhaps, the major suggested, with an
understanding smile, this one had rather fly alone, _hein_? So many
of them would--and especially by way of Paris, or other good towns. Yes,
he had given his destination--La Ferte sous Jouarre, but is not that on
a direct line for Paris, Monsieur? These youthful ones, would they never
learn that this was a serious business? But no, Monsieur, they are
young, and how can you make one fear discipline who daily faces death?
Poof! It was the grave problem.

McGee left Vitry with his own conclusions. So Siddons had pulled a
forced landing in order to go for a joy-ride. Now he was off having a
fine time and would claim that his delay at Vitry was so long that he
thought it best to head for La Ferte. Well, they would have him there.
He had not reckoned that Cowan would send someone back.

4

Upon McGee's return to the squadron, Cowan was too busy to see him, nor
did he send for him until after mess that night. When McGee arrived at
the Major's temporary quarters he found him in company with Mullins, the
Operations officer, and both were bending over a large map spread out on
the table.

Cowan looked up with the quick, exasperated nervousness which he always
displayed when interrupted.

"Well!" he barked, crisply.

"You sent for me, sir?"

"Yes, yes. I had forgotten. What about Siddons?"

McGee had decided to shield Siddons to the extent of not reporting the
fact that the mechanics at Vitry had found nothing wrong with the plane.
A squealer gains no friends in the Army.

"I don't know where he is, Major. He landed at Vitr