tain was superintending the send-off, and turned into the
wind in my turn. As though conscious of his critical eye, my old
veteran Spad lifted its tail and gathered flying speed with all the
vigor of its youth, and we were soon high above the hangars, climbing
to the rendezvous.

When we had all assembled, Talbott headed northeast, the rest of us
falling into our places behind him. Then I found that, despite the
new motor, my machine was not a rapid climber. Talbott noticed this
and kept me well in the group, he and the others losing height in
_renversements_ and _retournements_, diving under me and climbing up
again. It was fascinating to watch them doing stunts, to observe the
constant changing of positions. Sometimes we seemed, all of us, to be
hanging motionless, then rising and falling like small boats riding a
heavy swell. Another glance would show one of them suspended bottom
up, falling sidewise, tipped vertically on a wing, standing on its
tail, as though being blown about by the wind, out of all control. It
is only in the air, when moving with them, that one can really
appreciate the variety and grace of movement of a flock of
high-powered _avions de chasse_.

I was close to Talbott as we reached the cloud-bank. I saw him in dim
silhouette as the mist, sunlight-filtered, closed around us. Emerging
into the clear, fine air above it, we might have been looking at early
morning from the casement

"opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn."

The sun was just rising, and the floor of cloud glowed with delicate
shades of rose and amethyst and gold. I saw the others rising through
it at widely scattered points. It was a glorious sight.

Then, forming up and turning northward again, just as we passed over
the receding edge of the cloud-bank, I saw the lines. It was still
dusk on the ground and my first view was that of thousands of winking
lights, the flashes of guns and of bursting shells. At that time the
Germans were making trials of the French positions along the Chemin
des Dames, and the artillery fire was unusually heavy.

The lights soon faded and the long, winding battle-front emerged from
the shadow, a broad strip of desert land through a fair, green
country. We turned westward along the sector, several kilometres
within the French lines, for J. B. and I were to have a general view
of it all before we crossed to the other side. The fort of Malmaison
was a minute