Erwin's slender figure drooping nervelessly, his head sinking, and the
emptied sheaf of bombs sprawling neglected in his lap!

"You're hit, Orry? For God's sake buck up! I've still got to climb or
they'll get us yet."

Clamping his knee round the wheel, he managed with one hand to pull
Orris forward and sideways, so that the boy's curly head, now capless,
lay against his thigh. With one arm half around and upon that
senseless head, holding the slight frame from slipping, he still
manipulated the alert Bleriot, that responded instantly to each human
spur with a mobility that was almost life-like.

The two other machines had vanished in the darkness, doubtless cleaving
the higher air strata in a backward flight to the home aerodrome, which
was now the goal of all. Meantime searchlights were flashing here,
there, yonder through the inky sky. The swift reports of anti-aircraft
guns split the night's silence in a most disconcerting manner. Erwin
groaned and twisted his body.

"Stay still, Orry! We must 'a' been the last to quit, and they're
making things hot back westward."

Here a blinding gleam of light flashed athwart his eyes and , letting
go of Erwin, he darted aside suddenly on a differing course. Erwin's
body crumpled into a heap. A heavier man might have toppled over the
edge, perhaps hanging helplessly at peril of falling out, unless held
by the straps which many old aviators neglect. As it was, the
nerveless lad was held by the high rim of the opening that fenced them
both in. For the moment the boy was safe.