correct. Nevertheless, since he could not have told the Mosel River from any other, even if seen by daylight, there was a strong probability that although they were lucky, and finally reached the French lines, they might land fifty miles away from the aviation hangars of the Lafayette Escadrille.
Not that such a thing would give them much cause for anxiety, since news of their safe arrival would be flashed to their headquarters, to relieve the tension that was sure to result from their absence from the squadron. And later on they could ascend again, and make the home port easily enough.
It was while Tom was telling himself all this that he felt a movement on the part of his chum. This he recognized as the signal, and knew that Jack had something of importance to say, and wished him to ease up the pounding motor so he might be heard.
"Something else gone wrong, Tom!" called Jack.
"You've been testing our supply of gas, have you?" shouted the pilot. "Getting low, I suppose."
"It's been leaking in a trickling stream right along," came from the other in tones of deepest disgust. "I've found a tiny hole that must have been made by a splinter from shrapnel or
