at 10 a.m. derek daventry started off in eg 19 on patrol. kaye, flying a machine of the same type, had risen five minutes earlier. according to instructions the two airmen were to make a reconnaissance above the important railway junction of les jumeaux, where the huns were supposed to be detraining a number of tanks for the avowed purpose of holding up the british and french counter-advance.
everywhere the huns had been held. in certain sectors their line was cracking badly. there were evidences of a retreat on a large scale. demoralization was sapping their ranks like a canker, while the morale of the allies, never low in spite of reverses, was again on the rise. at the same time fritz still had a certain amount of kick left in him. he might strive to stave off disaster by rallying the best of his badly-shaken troops and attempt another break through, in the hope that if the operation were successful he might be able to effect a possible peace by negotiation.
it was therefore necessary to keep a vigilant watch upon the germans' back-areas, to observe any great concentration of troops or material, and to continue harassing his lines of communication; and the only way to do this was by means of that juvenile but virile branch of the service, the r.a.f.
that day machines were up in hundreds. the sky seemed stiff with biplanes and monoplanes, all bearing the distinctive red, white, and blue circles. each machine had a definite object in view—a set task to perform.
on the other hand the boche was chary of going aloft. not a single black-cross machine crossed our lines. even the famous hun circuses kept well away from the scene, since fritz recognized the allied superiority in the air, and rarely, if ever, tried conclusions with superior numbers. therein lies the difference. british and french airmen are sportsmen, ready to rush in whenever an opportunity offers, and scorning to decline a combat against heavy odds; german flyers are almost invariably cold-blooded, scientific men who calculate their chances deliberately before venturing to meet their aerial foes.
keeping kaye's 'bus in full view, for both airmen were bound for practically the same destination, derek flew all out, passing over the german lines at less than two thousand feet. not an archibald greeted his appearance. fritz was getting tired of being strafed, and was beginning to find that it paid better to lie doggo than to invite a few bombs or a hail of machine-gun fire from passing aeroplanes.
steering partly by compass, and correcting his course by observation of prominent landmarks, derek held on. other 'buses passed and repassed—bombers, chasers, and reconnaissance machines—some of the pilots waving a greeting to the squat, businesslike eg 19.
it was a bright, sunny day, although here and there dark clouds drifted slowly across the sun. the ground beneath was honeycombed with shell-craters, and dotted with mounds that at one time, not so very long ago, were prosperous villages. a canal, almost dry owing to the destruction of the locks, cut the landscape in an unswerving straight line, while a network of railways, most of them constructed immediately after the big german offensive, spread like a gigantic cobweb as far as the eye could see.
there was plenty of smoke, for it was now the huns' turn to set fire to their own ammunition-dumps, while at frequent intervals long-distance naval guns would drop their gigantic projectiles, that burst in a mighty cloud of black and orange-tinted smoke.
viewed from the air, the scene of the mighty battle was tame. distance hid the hideous and ghastly details, while in the pure atmosphere the indescribable but distinctive stenches from the field of carnage were not perceptible. if distance did not exactly lend enchantment to the view it certainly threw a kindly veil over most of its shortcomings.
half an hour passed. kaye's 'bus was still in sight. if anything, derek was gaining on her, but in the air five minutes' start is a long one. the two biplanes were now practically alone, although a flight was visible at a great distance to the south-east.
the objective, les jumeaux junction, was now in sight, like a four-pointed star; for all around the converging railway lines were sheds and huts that were not in existence three months previously. that the spot was protected by anti-air-craft guns there could be little doubt, while derek could see a huge sausage-balloon being rapidly hauled down—a sign that fritz was aware of the approach of british 'planes.
suddenly kaye swerved from his course and held on in a southerly direction.
"wonder what's happened to the old bean?" thought derek. "he was making straight for the jolly old place, and now he's wandering off the track."
fifteen seconds later derek solved the mystery, for, approaching the british biplane, was a small monoplane of unmistakably hun construction—one of the admitted failures of the german air service.
the hun hesitated, banking and circling as if doubtful whether to meet the british craft or to seek safety in flight, while kaye, all out, bore down to the attack.
"kaye'll mop him up in a brace of shakes," declared derek, as he too swung round. "i'll stand by and see the scrap."
then, seized by an inspiration, he added, "supposing fritz has a card up his sleeve?"
just then the german spun round on one wingtip and began to fly from his antagonist. kaye's biplane was then about four hundred yards away from, and considerably higher than, the monoplane, and manoeuvring in order to pump a trayful of ammunition into the other's tail.
"juggins!" ejaculated derek; "he's let himself into a pretty hole. properly tricked."
for out of a rift in the clouds, through which the brilliant sunshine poured dazzlingly, three large hun triplanes swooped. it was an old trick, but kaye looked like falling a victim to the ruse. his whole attention centred upon the monoplane, which was merely a decoy, he was quite ignorant of the presence of three machines that were waiting to pounce down upon the swallower of the aerial bait.
derek began to climb, at the same time changing direction in an attempt to intercept the trio of huns. without a doubt they had spotted him, but contemptuous of the almost insignificant eg 19 they held on, with the evident intention of first strafing the pursuer of the decoy, and then "mopping up" the second british machine.
suddenly the decoy, finding that kaye was perilously close to his tail-plane, dived vertically. kaye promptly followed suit, while the triplanes, owing to their dead-weight, hesitated to imitate the dangerous stunt.
for a good two thousand feet the hun monoplane dropped like a plummet, with its engine all out and a long trail of vapour from its noisy exhaust. then the hun began a loop that finished him. making too sharp a curve, the monoplane burst two of the most important tension-wires, and the next instant the wings folded like those of a resting butterfly.
kaye, finding his antagonist crashing, flattened out, and, as he did so, became aware of the presence of the three triplanes and of his chum flying at full speed to intercept them.
without hesitation kaye joined in the fray. there was no loss of time, for the combatants were approaching an aggregate speed of well over two hundred and twenty miles an hour.
a mutual exchange of machine-gun fire produced no visible result, although several tracer-bullets passed perilously close to kaye's 'bus. then, banking steeply, the triplanes again endeavoured to close.
it was derek's opportunity, and he seized it. broadside on to two of the huns, he let fly with his machine-gun. down went one of the triplanes in flames, while the second, considerably damaged, rocked violently until the pilot succeeded in getting the machine again under control.
fitting a fresh drum of ammunition, derek again manoeuvred to renew the attack. as he swung round he saw, to his consternation, that kaye's 'bus was falling, while long-drawn tongues of flame showed that his chum's machine was not only shot down, but that it was shot down in flames.
filled with a blind rage, and eager to avenge his comrade, derek dived steeply upon the triplane that had sent kaye's 'bus on its headlong flight.
the german machine-gunner at the after gun was pumping in lead as fast as he could. bullets, many of them of the tracer pattern, whizzed and screeched past the little british machine. a tension-wire snapped like a harp-string, one end cutting through derek's flying-helmet and drawing blood from his forehead. he was dimly conscious of jagged rips in his leather coat, of rents in the planes, and particularly of a bullet cutting a deep groove in the three-ply decking of the fuselage. then, just at the critical moment, the gun jammed badly.
desperately derek strove to rectify the defect, the 'bus meanwhile steering itself. once he glanced up to see where his antagonist was. the triplane had vanished. struck in a vital part a few seconds before the jamming of the british aeroplane's gun, the hun was falling absolutely out of control.
to change over the two automatic-guns was a matter of a few moments; then, again fit for action, the biplane made towards the remaining hun. the triplane, however, had had enough. with her powerful engines all out she incontinently fled from her much smaller antagonist.
leaning over the side of the fuselage derek looked earthwards. the ground was well-wooded, and apparently flat, although the pilot knew the deceptive aspect of undulating land when viewed from a height. two columns of smoke, trending towards the west, marked the spots where the british and the hun machines had descended in flames.
vol-planing spirally, derek kept a sharp look-out for signs of enemy occupation. he saw none. no boches sent their obnoxious shrapnel-shells screeching through the air; no field-grey patrols opened fire with their rifles and machine-guns upon the now low-flying biplane. there were no signs of the civilian population. thirty miles behind the battle-line derek had struck a desolate and deserted patch of what had been, and was soon to be again, the soil of la belle france.
the british and german machines had crashed within four hundred yards of each other. which was which daventry could not determine, for already the huge triplane and its small antagonist were little more than heaps of fiercely-burning debris.
