He had his pistol out now, and was fondling it as a child would a pet
toy. So far Jack had fired the weapon only at targets, but he had the
reputation of being a good shot. He believed he could make every bullet
it contained tell.

Then what about the mitrailleuse aboard the plane? Was it not possible
to train it on the advancing host, and give them such a hot reception
that they would break and race madly for shelter?

He knew the gun was fixed to shoot straight ahead. This was the custom
with all those who went up in airplanes. To attempt to fire any other
way would imperil the stability of the plane, and in many cases bring
about sudden disaster.

Jack fumbled for the fastenings of the airplane mitrailleuse, it being
his intention to swing the gun free, so that he could turn its muzzle in
any quarter desired. But it had been too well secured in place for such
a quick delivery, and presently he gave the idea up as a bad one.

No Tom yet! Things certainly were taking on a dark hue, and it looked as
though desperate trouble might be in store for the two chums. Jack
almost believed he could see dancing lights coming along what might be a
road. He looked again, and no longer had any doubt on that score.

"Well, a fellow can die only once, and after all what does it matter
whether he meets his end by falling ten thousand feet from the clouds or
in trying to hold off an angry mob of Teuton soldiers and citizens of
Metz who are in sympathy with the methods of the Kaiser?" Jack's
reflections served to give him courage.

There was the leading one of the mob, starting across the dimly lighted
field! Jack set his jaws hard, and determined that he would wait until
the other had come close up. Ammunition was much too precious to be
wasted without results following.

He was soon glad he had made such a sensible resolution, for as the
runner drew closer something familiar about his figure and methods of
leaping told Jack it was none other than Tom.

"Get aboard in a hurry, after you've given the propellers a swing!"
cried Tom, almost breathless himself after such a sharp run. "I've got
what I wanted."

He was already in his place with his hand on the control.

"Tell me when, Tom!" sang out Jack.

"Cut loose!" ordered the pilot.

The propellers spun, and the motors commenced their furious throbbing.
Jack swung aboard, and at once the plane started to roll along the
field, even as men appeared, bursting into view on one