sitting here talking about it."

"Me either," agreed Tom. "But, to get down to brass tacks, what
have you been doing to get into such a mess? You look like a
chauffeur of the old days they tell of when they had to climb under
the car to see if it needed oiling--"

"That's just about what I have been doing," admitted Jack. "When I
heard the rumor that our escadrille might get orders to move at any
hour, I decided that it was up to me to look MY machine over. It
didn't make that nose dive just the way I wanted it to the last time
I was up, and I'm not taking any chances. So I've been crawling in
and around and under it--"

"While I've been lying here I taking it easy!" broke in Tom. "I
don't call that fair of you, Jack," and he seemed genuinely hurt.

"Go easy now, my pickled onion!" laughed his chum. "I wasn't going
to leave you out in the cold. I just came to tell you that you'd
better stop looking like a moving picture of an airman, and put on
some old duds to look over your own craft. And here you go and--"

"All right, old ham sandwich!" laughed Tom.

"I'll forgive you. I'm going to do the same as you, and tinker
with my machine. If, as you say, we're likely to be on the job
again soon, I don't want too take any chances either. Where's that
mechanician of mine? There was something wrong with my joy stick,
he said, the last time I came down out of the clouds to take an
enforced rest, and I might as well start with that, if there's any