little, as they could only catch a fleeting glimpse of him as they shot past. But he seemed to be doubled up in the wreckage as though more or less severely injured.
Tom had seen the very place he needed for making his landing. It was an open field, and pasture land at that, so he hoped to find if fairly level.
Being accomplished at landing, Tom succeeded in bringing the big Caudron down without the slightest accident. Then both young aviators jumped out, though Jack immediately fell forward on his face, his cramped limbs doubling up under him.
"We must hurry!" Tom cried, even while running back toward the stalled car. "Someone may come along the road, perhaps troops in the bargain, and then we would be in a fine pickle."
"Do you think he was killed, Tom?" gasped Jack, a bit awed by the tragic result of his gunfire.
"Hardly as bad as that! He's slowed down a lot before the crash came, you noticed. But I certainly do hope he's got a couple of gallons of stuff in that tank of his."
"And as for me," mumbled the other tagging just behind his leader, "I'm praying that I didn't puncture the tank, with all my shooting. I kept the fire low on purpose."
