A GIRI'S APPEAL


At once half a score of hands reached out to render aid to the
stricken airman, whose blood was staining the ground where he had
fallen.

Tom, seeing that his fellow aviator was more desperately wounded
than the brave man had admitted, at once summoned stretcher-bearers,
and he was carried to the hospital. Then all anxiously awaited the
report of the surgeons, who quickly prepared to render aid to the
fighter of the air.

"How is he?" asked Jack, as he and Tom, lingering near the hospital,
saw one of the doctors emerge.

"He is doing very nicely," was the answer, given in French, for the
two boys of the air spoke this language now with ease, if not always
with absolute correctness.

"Then he isn't badly hurt?" asked Jack.

"No. The wound in his chest was only a flesh one, but it bled
considerably. Two bullets from an aircraft machine gun struck ribs,
and glanced off from them, but tore the flesh badly. The bleeding
was held in check by the pressure DU Boise exerted on the wounds
underneath his jacket, but at last he grew faint from loss of blood,
and then the stream welled out. With rest and care he will be all
right in a few days."