brave when they had the numerical
advantage. They fought bitterly, and with skill--that could not be
denied. And before the battle had been going on very long two American
machines had been shot down. Whether the men in them had been killed,
or not, remained to be seen.

"It's sort of going against us," said Jimmy, with a dry, choking sob.

"This is fierce!" cried Roger. "Why don't we send up some more
machines?"

"Haven't got 'em, maybe," remarked Franz. "Oh, look at that! They
collided head on!"

This actually happened. One of the larger American machines, the
ammunition probably having given out, was being attacked by a German
Fokker. Knowing that it was either kill or be killed, the pilot of the
craft with the Indian head painted on the underside of the wings took
a desperate chance.

Straightening out his craft, he headed it directly toward that of his
enemy. The latter tried to steer out of the way when it was seen what
the game would be, but he was unable to do so.

They came together with what must have been a fearful crash, though of
course not the faintest echo of it could be heard down in the woods.
And then, locked together in a death embrace, the two machines hurtled
over and over to earth, bursting into flames as they fell. They
smashed down in a swamp, and all four airmen were killed--the two
brave Americans and their perhaps no less intrepid German fighters.

"It's going to be a tight squeeze!" murmured Roger, as he and the
others gazed aloft. "There's three of our machines done for and here
come some more Germans. Oh, this is fierce!"

"More German machines? Where!" cried Jimmy.

"There!" and Roger pointed to the sky behind the German planes. "Ten
more of 'em!" he cried. "Now we're done for, sure!"

"Those aren't Hun planes! They're French!" yelled Bob. "See, they're
French! They've circled up behind the Germans! Now we have 'em between
two fires!"

And this was just what happened. The French, seeing that the battle of
the air was going against their American allies, had hastily sent up
a squadron of speedy craft. These arose very high, flew over and above
the Germans, out of sight, and then, coming down, attacked them in the
rear.

This was too much for Fritz. He had no taste for a battle against even
less odds than this. The Fokkers turned to flee, but it was too late
for all but two of them. These managed to elude the American and
French cloud-fighters and disappeared in the mist in