"There's another!" shouted someone. And turning our backs on the enemy,
we gave our entire attention to a second speck that had suddenly risen
on the horizon.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and the armored head of the
ever-on-coming aeroplane glittered splendidly in the golden rays of the
afternoon sun.

"_Cest un francais!_" cried George.

"_Non!_"

Allowing that an aeroplane flies at the rate of a mile a minute, one can
easily imagine that we had not long to wait before number two sped over
us. Through my glass I was able to recognize the tri-color cockade
painted underneath the plane, and when I announced this there went up a
wild shriek of joy.

At that moment a loud report in the west announced that the Germans had
begun their deadly work on undefended territory.

"That's a bomb for the railway crossing at Nanteuil, I'll bet!" said
Leon, and while I was realizing that that projectile might just as well
have been for us, the others were gesticulating and bowling
encouragement to their compatriot some few hundred yards above them, as
though he could bear every word they said:

"Go it, old man!"

"Bring down that cursed blackbird!" "_Vive la France!_" and other