the possibility of a gun with range sufficient to shoot into Paris from the nearest German lines. The range, sixty-odd miles, seemed too great for practical belief, however nicely it might work out in theory.
"And you must remember that the gun, if gun it is, couldn't be in the very first German line," said Tom, who had studied ordnance. "It must be at least ten miles back, to allow for sufficient protection from the French guns. That would make it shoot about seventy-two miles, and I don't believe any gun on earth could do it!"
"Neither do I," added Jack. "We've got to dope out something else. But this isn't finding your father, Tom."
"I know it, and I don't mind admitting I'm clean discouraged about him, Jack. If he's alive why doesn't he send me some word? He must know where I am, and, even if he doesn't know I'm in Paris, they would forward any message he might send to our aeroplane headquarters."
"That's right. But what are you going to do about it?"
"I hardly know. He may still be in Paris, but it's such a big city that it's hard to find him. Then, too, I'm thinking of something else."
"What's that, Tom?"
