"What interests you up there, Tom?" demanded his chum, noticing the other scanning the heavens in front of them.
"There are planes aloft, a number of them. But I imagine that is pretty nearly always the case when the weather permits. Some are so far away they look like dots. I suppose those are German Fokker and Gotha machines, of which we've heard so much, as they do their fighting with them against our Nieuports."
"Let me have a peep! I want to see my first Fokker; though I suppose in time I'll get my fill of seeing them, especially when the pilot is pelting me with lead from his machine-gun."
After a minute of focusing and staring, Jack continued:
"Yes, I guess those far-away ones must be, as you say, German craft hovering over their own lines, and mebbe having an occasional fight with some French or American flier who ventures across No Man's Land to engage them. But there's a machine heading this way now, and coming on fast, as if about to land."
"We are close to the camp," the ambulance driver assured him. "In fact it's just half a mile further on. When we've rounded that bend ahead maybe you'll get a whiff of genuine Yankee cooking in the bargain, for I hear the boys have succeeded in finding a chap from
