have. Anyhow it was leaking like a sieve, and I had to head for our lines."
"Tough luck!" consoled Tom. Jack did not add that he had, as soon as he landed, got into another machine, and was about to go back and join his comrades when they returned, having practically won the battle above the clouds.
Congratulations were extended to the members of the squadron, who accepted their honors modestly enough, as was characteristic of them.
Then, after Tom's wound had been dressed, and he and Jack were talking over the events of the day, there came a communication from the commander of the air division in that sector. It was an order calling on certain men to report at once for special duty. A picked squadron was to be detailed for a hazardous enterprise, it was said.
"And our names are there!" cried Jack. "Tom, old man, we're going!"
"But where is it?" asked another American flier named Boughton. "What's the game?"
Knowing the secret would be safe with him Tom said:
"We're going to pot the big German cannon that's bombarding Paris!"
