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“Unless I miss my guess,” said Jack, soberly, “that’s a German machine. They use the Taube model almost exclusively, as it seems to answer their purposes. Now, I’ve got a notion that Taube pilot must have been doing some scouting, and was trying to make his own lines when he was cut off by these aeroplanes of the Allies. Look how they block his efforts to get past, will you? He rises and falls, but every time one of the other machines is in the way.”

“There, did you see that puff of smoke from the German craft?” cried Amos. “Yes, and both of the others are shooting, too. Why, Jack, just to think of it; we’re watching a regular battle in the air between rival monoplanes! Doesn’t it make your blood tingle to see them manœuvre?”

“The Taube man is getting in hot quarters, I should say,” observed the ranch boy, as they stood and stared. “There goes a gun from over where the British force is advancing; yes, and listen to the bombardment, would you? They are firing shrapnel. You can see the white puffs of smoke where the shells burst.”