Читать книгу Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in France and Belgium. Or, Saving the Fortunes of the Trouvilles онлайн

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“Having fun with yourself?” queried Billy, in the sharp tone necessary to make himself heard in a buzzing aircraft.

Henri ignored the question, snapping: “The book says it’s thirty-five miles from here to Ypres, straight; keep your eyes on the waterways, and you can’t miss it.”

“Another thing the book says,” snapped Billy, in response, “is that that old town is in a district as flat as a floor, and, if nothing else, we are sure of a landing.”

“I wish we were as sure of a dinner.” Henri never lost sight of the dinner question.

The flight was continued in silence. It was a strain to keep up conversation, and the boys quit talking to rest their throats. Besides, there was not a drop of water left in the canteen.

It was late afternoon when the boys saw Ypres beneath them. It was just about the time that the Allies were advancing in the region between Ypres and Roulers, the town where the best Flemish lace comes from. But the Allies had not yet reached Ypres.

Henri glimpsed the remains of some ancient fortifications, and urged Billy to make a landing right there.