Presently they were off. Frank, of course, knew every rod of the way. He
had more than a few times made the trip over to Shelby on his wheel in
company with Andy. And since they had taken to the air they had looked
down upon that road for miles, as they whirled along hundreds of feet
up, discovering features about the landscape that they had never dreamed
of before they had this "bird's-eye view," as Andy delighted to call it,
playing upon their own name.

In due time they reached Shelby and drew up in front of the building
where the police held forth. The first one to meet their eyes as they
entered was a familiar figure seated in a chair and attended by a doctor
and a couple of officers.

"It's Jules, sure enough!" said Frank, as, despite the many bandages
about the head of the man, he recognized the dapper little French
aviator with whom he had had more or less trouble in the past.

And Jules grinned as he saw them. His spirit was not crushed, even
though it began to look as though he might be the football of fate.

"It ees ze fortunes of war, messiers," he said, wincing at the pain
speech caused him. "And after all, it was ze machine of ze young
inventor zat downed me. I am von lucky man not to haf been five thousand
feet up in ze air when it occur. Had eet been ze monoplane zat kicked
me, pouf! poor Jules he would haf been as flat as ze pancake. As eet is,
after I haf serve my time I am yet alive."

Frank found his bicycle badly damaged. In fact, the front wheel was
smashed beyond recovery, for it had been driven against some stone at a