that had gathered about the headquarters building to discuss the
news of the arrival of the first American forces turned to watch the
return of the flier.

"It's Du Boise," remarked Tom, naming an intrepid French fighter.
He was one of the "aces," and had more than a score of Boche
machines to his credit. "He must have been out 'on his own,'
looking for a stray German."

"Yes, he and Leroy went out together," assented Jack. "But I don't
see Harry's machine," and anxiously he scanned the heavens.

Harry Leroy was, like Tom and Jack, an American aviator who had
lately joined the force in which the two friends had rendered such
valiant service. Tom and Jack had known him on the other side--had,
in fact, first met and become friendly with him at a flying school
in Virginia. Leroy had suffered a slight accident which had put him
out of the flying service for a year, but he had persisted, had
finally been accepted, and was welcomed to France by his chums who
had preceded him.

"I hope nothing has happened to Harry," murmured Tom; "but I don't
see him, and it's queer Du Boise would come back without him."

"Maybe he had to--for gasoline or something," suggested Jack.

"I hope it isn't any worse than that," went on Tom. But his voice
did not carry conviction.

The French aviator landed, and as he climbed out of his machine,