splintered strut near his head. "That came rather close."

And indeed it had. For a bullet, or a piece of shrapnel, has plowed
a furrow in the bit of supporting wood, not two inches away from
Tom's head, though in the excitement of the fight he had not noticed
it.

There had been a fight in the upper air and one of the French
machines had not come home.

"Another man to await news of," said the flight lieutenant sadly,
when the report reached him. "That's two in two days."

"No news of Leroy yet?" asked Tom and Jack, as they went out of
headquarters after reporting.

"None, I am sorry to say. It is barely possible that he landed in
some lonely spot and is still hiding out--if he is not killed. But
I understand you two young men had something to request of me. I
can give you some attention now," went on the commander of their
squadron.

"We want to be transferred!" exclaimed Tom. "Now, that Pershing's
men are here--"

"I understand," was the answer. "You want to fight with your
countrymen. Well, I would do the same. I will see if I can get you
transferred, though I shall much regret losing you."

He was as good as his word, and a week later, following some