Boches, and they have to go and plump him off the map. Well,
it is tough!"

"Yes, sort of takes the fun out of the good news we heard a while ago,"
agreed Jack. "I mean about Pershing's boys getting over here to France.
I hope Harry's only wounded, instead of killed. But if the Huns have him
a prisoner--good-night!"

"There's only one consolation," added Tom. "Their airmen are the best of
the lot Of course that isn't saying much, but they behave a little more
like human beings than the rest of the Boche gang; and if Harry has
fallen a prisoner to them he'll get a bit of decent treatment, anyhow."

"That's so. We'll hope for that. And now let's go on with what we
started when we saw Du Boise coming back--let's see what chance we have
of being transferred to an All American escadrille."

The boys started across the field again toward the headquarters, and,
nearing it, they saw, in a small motor car, a girl sitting beside the
military driver. She was a pretty girl, and it needed only one glance to
show that she was an American.

"Hello!" exclaimed Tom, with a low whistle. "Look who's here!"

"Do you know her?" asked Jack.

"No. Wish I did, though."

Jack glanced quickly and curiously at his chum.

"Oh, you needn't think you're the only chap that has a drag with the
girls," went on Tom. "Just because Bessie Gleason--"

"Cut it out!" exclaimed Jack. "Look, she acts as though she wanted to
speak to us."

The military chauffeur had alighted from the machine and was talking
to one of the French aviation officers. Meanwhile the girl, left to
herself, was looking about the big aviation field, with a look of
wonder, mixed with alarm and nervousness. She caught sight of Tom and
Jack, and a smile came to her face, making her, as Tom said afterward,
the prettiest picture he had seen in a long while.

"You're Americans, aren't you?" began the girl, turning frankly to them.
"I know you are! And, oh, I'm in such trouble!"

Tom stepped ahead of Jack, who was taking off his cap and bowing.

"Let me have a show for my white alley," Tom murmured to his chum.
"You've got one girl."

"You win," murmured Jack.

"Yes, we're from the United States," said Tom. "But it's queer to see
a girl here--from America or anywhere else. How'd you get through the
lines, and what can we do for you?"

"I am looking for my brother," was the answer. "I understood he was
stationed here, and I managed to get passes to come to see him, but it