Monsieur Cheval, really a noted aviator, had chummed much with the
American contingent and had been in the States once, though only for a
short time. But he had learned "ze language" -- after a fashion. When
Blaine briefly explained what he wanted and what the squadron commander
had said, Cheval lay back with a deep sigh, saying:

"Merci, comrade!" Here he chuckled. "I like to go: I want to go! But
I no use to you now. Not at all! I no use to myself. Voila! I got
well queek; better so here; not over yon in No-Man's-Land. But you be
sure bring my enfant back safe, my Bleriot -- Ah! A great baby is my
Bleriot!"

Blaine promised to do his best. His pal and comrade, Orris Erwin, was
also good, safe -- in short, reliable.

"Never fear, Monsieur Cheval! Unless they get us up yonder," pointing
vaguely upward into the sky, "we will fetch her back all right. Good
luck! Try to be out as soon as you can. We miss you on these little
trips after Fritzy."

An hour later Blaine, accompanied by Erwin, stood before Sergeant Anson
in the latter's cubbyhole of an office, while a stream of khaki-clad
young men filed in one by one. Anson waved them aside until the others
had left, then turned to Blaine.

"I saw Cheval myself," said the Sergeant grimly. "He wanted to go but
it will be a week before he can use that arm, aside from other
injuries. I spoke to Captain Byers about you. He was reluctant, but
owing to the newness of so many of you Yankee airmen, he was unable to
make suggestions. Only this- you two must be careful, cautious --"