. He stared ahead, and
believed he could even make out spectral objects moving this way and
that, like monstrous, though dimly seen, dragonflies, such as all
country boys have watched many a time while on a warm summer day, lying
at rest on the bank of the "swimming hole."

From this it was evident that news of their probable coming had been
sent on ahead, warning the defenders of the German fortress.

Still was the night as yet, but it would not be for long with those
opposing air forces ready for a death grapple. While the ten
battleplanes, each piloted by a Yankee ace with a splendid record,
engaged the flotilla of enemy aircraft, the bombers must be at their
more humble but equally important business.

All had been arranged so that there might be the least possible
friction, and no confusion. Each pilot and observer knew exactly what he
was to do, and every possible situation had been taken into
consideration.

Then came the initial firing.

It seemed that one ambitious Boche airman, unable to wait until the
oncoming Americans reached the formation arranged to resist the
onslaught, had flown ahead and was now exhausting his puny reservoir of
missiles against the solid phalanx.

The clatter became a roar as several of the raiders turned their guns on
the incautious Hun. Immediately his voice was stilled, and the
flittering light dropping earthward, after the manner of a falling
rocket-stick, told what had happened to him.

Before he landed his machine had burst into flames, as the escaping
petrol caught fire. Jack considered that a good omen for their side.

"Fritz seems to be getting a rough deal on this particular night," he
told himself. "Already three of his planes have been destroyed, and
several others have gone down out of control, with never a single loss
on the side of the Americans. Bully!"

But now the advance had reached the marked line where the rest of the
Huns waited to engage the invaders. If they were dismayed by the tragic
fate that had overtaken that rash pilot they did not show it, for they
attacked with a viciousness that Tom had never seen equalled in all his
experience as a flier.

It was undoubtedly desperation that spurred the Boche on. He knew that
these wonderful Americans, who his leaders had ridiculed in the
beginning, were foes not to be despised; that they had almost taken the
entire Argonne; that they had actually threatened to commence the
long-talked of march on to Berli