Part 16 (1/2)

But seven and then eight were falling, as though it had been settled to make a clean sweep while about it.

Their turn next!

Jack gritted his teeth and awaited Tom's cry, when he would be the last to burst into the rousing chorus of thunderous reports. The signal came, and Jack pressed the trigger, releasing the hanging bomb, and starting it on its downward journey.

If Tom's judgment was good it would at least strike somewhere in the midst of the debris and add more or less to the wreckage. As to whether the Boche commander-in-chief had been caught napping and buried in the ruins, was a matter about which they could only speculate.

Tom himself doubted whether such a happy solution of the affair could be attained, because he had known of various attempts being made in times gone by to ”get” the Kaiser himself when visiting the western front, but always without success.

They heard a frightful crash, much louder than any of those preceding it. The big plane rocked and swayed as though in a gale, and Tom needed all his skill to keep from being thrown off his balance.

It was no mystery to Jack. He realized that by a strange coincidence his falling bomb and that of the other rear plane had exploded simultaneously, making the ground vibrate, and completely destroying anything that had been left of the French chateau.

Their work in this quarter having been thoroughly accomplished the raiders now climbed higher, to rejoin the battleplane squadron hovering above, waiting to act once more as their armed escort.

Looking down in farewell, Jack could see fires burning. The shattered timbers of the wrecked chateau had been set ablaze. He would always remember that strange event whenever again watching fires from a lofty height in the night-time.

The squadron was off again, the second thrilling event connected with the bombing raid having come off as scheduled without any mishap to the Yankee air fleet.

Jack had kept quiet up to now, but it had cost him a severe effort.

Talking when a plane is bombing on its way can never be anything of a pleasure unless it is equipped with an up-to-date wireless telephone for the use of pilot and observer.

Jack himself had contrived some amateur device of this sort which he rigged up as soon as he seated himself back of Tom, although up to then he had failed to make use of it.

The roar of many propellers and the steady hum of a score of engines combined to make a deafening noise. Nevertheless, when Tom felt a tug at his sleeve, such as had been agreed upon with his chum, he took hold of his little receiver and was delighted to hear Jack's voice as plainly as though there had been no interference.

Plainly then Jack's idea was bearing fruit, and properly cultivated there might be something worth while in the scheme.

”Tom, do you get me?” demanded the agitated inventor, the first thing.

”Yes, and plainly, too,” came the reply that greatly pleased Jack; for up to then they had found no occasion to test the wireless telephone under severe conditions.

If it ”made good” with all that noise about them, Jack felt that he ought to call it a success.

”That's right!” he told Tom, exultantly. ”I never missed a syllable that time. Oh, boy! it seems as if it's O K, doesn't it?”

”Splendid thing for talking when you're rus.h.i.+ng along; and without cracking your voice, either,” Tom told him.

”Did my bomb explode exactly at the same second as the other one?” next asked Jack, more to continue the conversation and thrill with his triumph than for information, because he had already made up his mind on that score.

”Just what it did, Jack. But let up on this now. I've got to keep my whole attention pinned to my work.”

That often different minds run in the same channel is proved every day; and in Jack's case it really turned out that while he was testing his crude invention another much more eminent person in far-away America had just succeeded in accomplis.h.i.+ng the idea he had in mind, and was almost ready to offer it to the Was.h.i.+ngton Signal Corps authorities.

After rejoining the squadron of battleplanes the old formation had been resumed. A cordon of fighters moved on either side, one to each bombing unit in the fleet. Just as transports were convoyed across the dread submarine danger-zone of the Atlantic by destroyers and cruisers, so these working planes were protected by those better equipped for holding off intending offenders, and striking with all the strength of Uncle Sam's good right arm.

It would not be for long, Tom believed. Straight as the honey bee heads toward the hive when laden with sweets extracted from blossom and flower, they were now aiming for their main objective, the last powerful stronghold of the Hun in that sector, perhaps in all the extended battle front.