one of the night-bombers down, even if he had to follow the other to his own line.
That sort of excitement was meat and drink to those daring fellows, who lived in anticipation of engaging in just such combats. Tame indeed did that day seem to them upon which they could not exchange shots with at least one enemy pilot.
Some one had met with disaster over to the left, for Tom saw a flash of descending flame and had a vague view of a figure jumping hopelessly from the doomed plane, having found means to cut loose from his safety belt. It was only "jumping from the frying pan into the fire," however, for death in another form awaited him, the ground being a quarter of a mile below.
At one moment it happened that both boys were firing together, the position of the Yankee plane allowing this unusual demonstration. And as to which of them was responsible for the bullet that sent the Boche downward in erratic circles, like a wounded duck, he trying desperately to gain an even keel before it was too late, was always fated to be a little bone of contention between Tom and Jack.
