level Jack saw that the Hun was closer than ever, and once again starting
to bombard them.

At least they now had only a single adversary to deal with, which could
be reckoned a point gained. Most of the fighting was going on above them,
but Jack believed the bombers must be somewhere near by, possibly at a
still lower level.

Again the maneuvering, or jockeying, for position commenced. In this air
duel the pilot who knew his business best was going to come out ahead. It
might be they were opposed by some celebrated German ace with a long list
of victories to his credit, which would render their chances smaller.

Tom, however, seemed to be keeping up his end wonderfully well. The
hissing missiles cut through the canvas of their wings, beat upon the
side of the fuselage, and even nipped the Air Service Boys more than once
as they stormed past. Neither of the boys knew whether they were
seriously wounded or not; all they could do was to fight on and on, until
something definite had been achieved on one side or the other.

Once Jack felt something blinding him, and putting up a hand discovered
that it was wet; yet he was not conscious of having been struck in the
head by a passing bullet. Dashing his sleeve across his eyes he shut his
jaws still tighter together, and continued to play his gun as the
opportunity arose.

They were coming to closer quarters, and the issue of the battle, however
dreadful the result, could not be much longer delayed, Jack knew.

Then it happened, coming like a flash of lightning from the storm cloud!