two or three. He had a way of standing with his head thrown back and
his shoulders squared as he talked which gave him a commanding air.
Few boys in the school ever thought of questioning his statements. But
that day Bob was so carried away with his subject that he strayed
from familiar ground.

"What sort of fellows are they going to train to fly?" asked Joe
Little, a shy boy who rarely contributed to the conversation. Joe's
mother was a widow who had lived but few years in the town, having
moved there to give her only boy such education as he could obtain
before her small income was exhausted. Joe was never loud or boisterous,
and while he took his part in games and sports, he was ever the first
one to start for his home. Being alone with his mother to such an
extent, for they lived by themselves in a little cottage near the
Academy grounds, Joe had aged beyond his boy friends in many ways.
No sign did he ever show, however, of self-assertiveness. His part in
discussions was seldom great, and usually consisted of a well-placed
query that voiced what each boy present had thought of asking, but
had been a moment too late.

Now Bob had no very clear idea just where the new flying material was
to come from. A habit of rarely showing himself at a loss for an
answer prompted him to reply: "From the men in the army."

"You're wrong, Bob," said Jimmy Hill. "Most of the flying men that
will see actual service at the front will be boys like us. I have
read a dozen times that it is a boy's game---flying. Most of us are
almost old enough. One article I read said that lots of boys of
seventeen got into the flying corps in England. One writer said
that he thought the fellows from eighteen to twenty were much the