aw them both when we were
taking height again. The scrap was all over hours before, and they
were still a thousand metres away."

"You want to dive vertically. Needn't worry about your old 'bus.
She'll stand it."

"Well, the Lord has certainly protected the innocent to-day!"

"One of them was wandering off into Germany. Bill had to waggle Miller
to page him."

"And there was Drew, going down on that biplane we were chasing. I've
been trying to think of one wrong thing he might have done which he
didn't do. First he dove with the sun in his face, when he might have
had it at his back. Then he came all the way in full view, instead of
getting under his tail. Good thing the mitrailleur was firing at us.
After that, when he had the chance of a lifetime, he fell into a
vrille and scared the life out of the rest of us. I thought the
gunner had turned on him. And while we were following him down to see
where he was going to splash, the Boche got away."

* * * * *

All this happened months ago, but every trifling incident connected
with our first patrol is still fresh in mind. And twenty years from
now, if I chance to hear the "Chansons sans Paroles," or if I hum to
myself a few bars of a ballad, then sure to be long forgotten by the
world at large, "Oh, movin' man, don't take ma baby grand!" I shall
have only to close my eyes, and wait passively. First Tiffin will come
with the lighted candle: "Beau temps, monsieur." I shall hear Talbott
shouting, "Rendezvous two thousand over field. If--get lost--better--home."
J. B. will rush up smoking the cork end of a cigarette. "I've just had
the adventure of my life!" And Miller, sitting on an essence-case,
will have lost none of his old conviction. "Oh, man! you were fruit
salad! Fruit salad, I tell you! I could have speared you with my eyes
shut!"

And in those days, happily still far off, there will be many another
old gray-beard with such memories; unless they are all to wear out
their days uselessly regretting that they are no longer young, there
must be clubs where they may exchange reminiscences. These need not be
pretentious affairs. Let there be a strong odor of burnt castor oil
and gasoline as you enter the door; a wide view from the verandas of
earth and sky; maps on the walls; and on the roof a canvas
"pantaloon-leg" to catch the wind. Nothing else matters very much.
There they will be as happy as any old airman can expect to be,
argu