will be in for it. Tam, you
will be my second in command."

* * * * *

At ten o'clock that night the squadron rose and headed eastward. The
moon was at its full, but there was a heavy ground mist, and at six
thousand feet a thin layer of clouds which afforded the raiders a little
cover.

Tam was on the left of the diamond formation, flying a thousand feet
above the bombers, and for an hour and a half his eyes were glued upon
the signal light of his leader. Presently their objective came into
sight: a spangle of lights on the ground. You could follow the streets
and the circular sweep of the big Central Platz and even distinguish the
bridges across the Rhine, then of a sudden the lights blurred and became
indistinct, and Tam muttered an impatient "Tchk," for the squadron was
running into a cloud-bank which might be small but was more likely to be
fairly extensive.

They were still able to distinguish the locality, until three spurts of
red flame in the very center of the town marked the falling of the first
bombs. Then all the prominent lights went out. There were hundreds of
feeble flickers from the houses, but after a while these too faded and
died. In their place appeared the bright, staring faces of the
searchlights as they swept the clouds.

Tam saw the flash of guns, saw the red flame-flowers of the bombs burst
to life and die, and straining his eyes through the mist caught the
"Return" signal of his leader. He banked round and ran into a thicker
pall of fog and began climbing. As he turned he saw a quick, red, angry
flash appear in the clouds and something whistled past his head. The
guns had got the altitude of the bombers to a nicety and Tam grinned.

By this time Blackie's lights were out of sight and Tam was alone. He
looked down at his compass and the quivering needle now pointed to his
right, which meant he was on the homeward track. He kept what he thought
was a straight course, but the needle swung round so that it pointed
toward him. He banked over again to the right and swore as he saw the
needle spin round as though some invisible finger was twirling it.

Now the airplane compass is subject to fits of madness.

There are dozens of explanations as to why such things occur, but the
recollection of a few of these did not materially assist the scout. The
thing to do was to get clear of the clouds and take his direction by the
stars. He climbed and climbed, until his a