times that it is a boy's game---flying. Most of us are
almost old enough. One article I read said that lots of boys of
seventeen got into the flying corps in England. One writer said
that he thought the fellows from eighteen to twenty were much the
best fliers. If that is so, and it takes some time to train fliers,
some of us might be flying in France before the end of the war."

Bob was frankly skeptical. "I see you flying, Jimmy!" was his comment.
"You will have to grow some first.

"Wrong again," said Jimmy in all seriousness. "It's those of us that
don't weigh a ton that are going to be the best sort for the flying
business, and don't you forget it."

"Jimmy knows a lot about flying," volunteered Archie Fox. "He bones
it up all the time."

"I don't pretend to know much about it, but I am going to know more
before that airdrome gets started," said Jimmy.

"That's right," said Joe Little quietly. "It won't hurt any of us to
get a bit wiser as to what an aeroplane really is nowadays. Where do
you get the stuff to read, Jimmy?"

"Everywhere I can," answered Jimmy. "The weeklies and monthlies
generally contain something on flying."

"My father can get us some good stuff," suggested Dicky Mann. Mr. Mann,
senior, was the proprietor of the biggest store in the town; and while
he did not exactly pretend to be a universal provider, he could
produce most commodities if asked to do so. The store had a fairly
extensive book and magazine department, so Dicky's offer to enlist
the sympathies of his father promised to be of real use.

"I'll write to my brother Bill and get him to fire something over to
us from France," said Harry Corwin. "There is no telling but what he
can put us on to some wrinkles that the people who write things for
the papers would never hear about."

"My aunt just wrote me a letter asking me what sort of a book I wanted
for my birthday," put in Fat Benson. "I will write to-day and tell her
I want a book that will teach me to fly."

This raised a storm of laughter, for Henry Benson's stout figure bid
fair to develop still further along lines of considerable girth, and
the very thought of Fat flying was highly humorous to his mates.

The little group broke up hurriedly as Bob looked at his watch and saw
how time was slipping away.

"Back to the grind, fellows!" he cried. "We'll have another talk-fest
later on."

That random conversation was one day to bear splendid fruit. The se