I hope so," murmured Tom. "If those Huns only act as decently toward us
as we do toward them, we'll have some news soon."

For it is true, in a number of instances that the German aviators do
drop within the allied lines news of any British, French or American
birdman who is captured or killed inside the German lines.

"All ready?" asked Tom of his helper.

"Switch off, gas on," was the answer.

Tom made sure that the electrical switch was disconnected. If it was
left on, in "contact" as it is called, and the mechanician turned the
propeller blades, there might have been a sudden starting of the engine
that would have instantly kill the man. But with the switch off there
could be no ignition in the cylinders.

Slowly the man turned the big blades until each cylinder was sucked full
of the explosive mixture of gasoline and air.

"Contact!" he cried, and Tom threw over the switch.

Then, stepping once more up to the propeller, the man gave it a pull,
and quickly released it, jumping back out of harm's way.

With a throbbing roar the engine awoke to life and the propeller spun
around, a blur of indistinctness. The motor was working sweetly. Toni
throttled down, assured himself that everything was working well, and
then, with a wave of his hand toward Jack, began to taxi across the
field, to head up into the wind. All aeroplanes are started this
way--directly into the wind, to rise against it and not with it. On and
on he went and then he began to climb into the air. With him climbed
other birdmen who were to do patrol and contact work with him, the
latter being the term used when the airship keeps in contact through
signaling with infantry or artillery forces on the ground, directing
their efforts against the enemy.

Having seen Tom on his way, Jack turned to his own machine. As his chum
had been, Jack was dressed warmly in fur garments, even to his helmet,
which was fur lined. He had on two pairs of gloves and his eyes were
protected with heavy goggles. For it is very cold in the upper regions,
and the swift speed of the machine sends the wind cutting into one's
face so that it is impossible to see from the eyes unless they are
protected.

Jack's machine was a two-seater, of a heavy and comparatively safe
type--that is it was safe as long as it was not shot down by a Hun.
Jack was to occupy the front seat and act as pilot, while Harris, the
photographer he was to take up, sat behind him, with camera, map, penci