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“He’s doing his best to get clear, for a fact, Jack. That pilot is daring enough, and so far seems to have held his own. Somehow I can’t help but admire him, even if our sympathies are with the Allies.”

“A brave man is worth admiring, no matter on which side he fights,” was the comment of the second boy; “but there isn’t much chance he’ll be able to slip by his enemies. They’re too swift for the Taube man, it seems like. And when he drops down, those gunners are going to fairly pelt him with shrapnel.”

“Oh! there he goes with a swoop!” gasped Amos; “but no, he seems to recover, and holds his own still. He’s a sure-enough jim-dandy pilot, let me tell you, Jack! Few bird men could have done that dip and come up smiling again.”

“Well, there’s no need of our standing here any longer,” observed the other boy. “We can watch while we walk along. I’d hate to miss connections with that troop, for somehow or other I keep hoping we may run across a clue worth while.”

This seemed to suit Amos very well, and they continued their tramp, keeping up a watch of the strange fight that was going on far up toward the fleecy clouds. If either of them stumbled occasionally on account of the deep interest they were taking in the wonderful exhibition of skill and daring being paraded before their eyes it was not to be wondered at under the circumstances.