smitten by a stray bullet? Had his plane, unguided, crashed to the
earth? Would he, Bangs, live to?

Buck's hurried thoughts were suddenly checked by a sharp, stinging
sensation that began at his side, then seemed to fill him completely.
At the same time he realized that his hands no longer hold the steering
wheel. He strove to seize it again, but his muscles did not obey. A
stupor was on him. The sunlight faded, gave way to a bewildering maze
of twinkling stars. His last conscious sensation was that his machine
was crashing downward. Then came a long mental blank.

Meantime Blaine was having his own troubles.

The rest of the air fighting had gone eastward, while he was contending
with the increased crippling of his planes. Overhead he saw only the
now clearing sky. Ahead of him, beyond a rippling stream, lay certain
trenches held, he felt sure, by his own side. But could be reach them?
Far behind the noise of battle rumbled. Where was Buck? Somehow he
had lost sight of his comrade within the last few minutes.

"Buck is a good, bang-up fellow. We ought to go back together."

But his power was waning. Try as he might, the plane was sagging
groundward. Only Blaine's skillful efforts kept it from dropping with
a crash which he knew would probably be the end of him -- Lafe Blaine.

What was that just below him which some scraggy shell-torn timber had
kept him from seeing before?

"Looks like a piece of a house," he muttered.