Jack Parmly shrilled these words close to the ear of his chum. Really,
there was no need of his saying a single word, since the pilot had sensed
their immediate danger just as quickly as had Jack himself. Already Tom
was pulling the lever that would point the nose of their aerial craft
upward toward the stars, and take them to a much loftier elevation.

The experience was very exciting while it lasted, Jack thought. He saw
the numerous planes, forming the raiding squadron break formation in
great haste, each pilot being eager to dodge the bursting shells and seek
an elevation where they could not reach his flimsy craft.

It would take only one accidental shrapnel shell to cause the destruction
of the best machine among them, and thus reduce the number of available
airmen serving the cause of liberty.

For a brief interval the explosions continued to sound all around them.
But presently Jack was enabled to breathe easily again. They had climbed
beyond the range of the German guns, no matter how heavily charged; and,
besides this, they sped along rapidly, so that the Hun lines were soon
left behind.

"Trouble's past. Admiral signaling keep on this level, Tom!" called out
the observer.

"Got you, Jack!" came the answer, heard above the rushing noises that
"made the welkin ring," as Jack told himself.

The firing ceased as the German gunners realized, to their chagrin
doubtless, that again their intended prey had eluded them. They must have