Some one shouted at him, not stopping to realize that the noise of the motor drowned everything else in the ears of the pilot.
The luckless man tried to make a sharp turn, to get out of danger. One of his wing tips caught on the canvas tent, or hangar, and in another instant there was a crash and a mass of wreckage. From this, a little later, poor Parla was carried.
But the others did not stay, for though the shadow of death hovered over the Escadrille, the business of war went on.
After three days Tom and Jack could not stand it any longer. They begged for permission to go up into the air. It was granted, though officially they were still on leave. Ascending together in a Caudron, on a photograping assignment, they were attacked by two swift German Fokkers.
Tom worked the gun, and to such good effect that he smashed one machine, sending it down with a crash, and drove the second off. So other laurels were added to those the boys already had.
"If this keeps on we'll be soon wearing the chevrons of sergeants," said Jack, as they landed.
"Well, I'd almost give up hope of them to