"I did." Cowan's voice was crisp. The ends of his moustache began twitching jerkily. "I suppose you wonder why I have said nothing to you about your failure to rejoin the squadron the other day after you cut out at Vitry?"

"Why, no sir," Siddons responded, perfectly at ease. "You said that if any of us developed trouble that delayed us, to come on here at the earliest possible moment. I was here when you arrived."

"So you were." Cowan was making a stern effort to control his temper.

"And it is true that I gave you orders to come on here should delaying trouble develop. But," he shot a quick, silencing look at McGee, "I conducted a little investigation into your landing at Vitry, Lieutenant, and I discovered that you took off again within an hour."

Siddons started, almost imperceptibly. His face colored, for a moment, but he quickly a.s.sumed his habitual nonchalance. It goaded Cowan to an inward fury, but he controlled himself well.

"I suppose you can think of some reason why I shouldn't ground you,"

Cowan said.

"Why, no sir. No reason at all."

"Then I can!" the Major snapped. "You like joy-riding, eh? Like to tour France, eh? Very well, I'm going to give you a bit of it to do."

He turned and walked over to a large wall map. "Take a look at this--all three of you," he said. "This is a detailed map of our sector. G 2 believes that the Germans are planning to strike north of here, perhaps just south of Soissons. One of their reasons for this suspicion is that information has reached G 2 to the effect that Count von Herzmann's Circus has pulled out from Roncheres. Where is he now? That's the question! The Intelligence sharks at Great Headquarters believe that if we can locate his new base we will know something more about the plans of the enemy. As a result, every squadron along this front has been ordered to make an effort to locate his new position. Personally, I am of the opinion that Larkin winged him the other morning, and as a result his Circus has been withdrawn, pending his recovery."

Larkin shook his head regretfully. "I wish I could think so, Major. I'd like to boast that I had given von Herzmann a little lead poisoning. But I don't think so. The tracers showed that my burst was going into his motor. I winged that, all right, but he didn't fly like a wounded man."

"Modest enough," Cowan approved. "It seems that G 2 thinks the same thing. They have reason to believe that he is in the neighborhood of this point here,"--he put a finger on the map--"where the railroad between Soissons and Chateau-Thierry crosses the Ourcq."

He turned now directly to Siddons, his eyes cold and piercing.

"Lieutenant Siddons, you seem to be a most excellent map flyer. You find your way here alone, and you tour this part of France with admirable ease. To-morrow morning, if the visibility is good, you will take off at dawn, cross the line above Bouresches, push on toward Bonnes and as far inland as the railroad crossing on the Ourcq--if possible. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, sir." Siddons was as unconcerned and unruffled as though he had received an order to fly to Paris.

"You will get the greatest possible alt.i.tude before crossing the line, and you are to avoid combat. Your mission is to bring us information, if possible, concerning the location of enemy 'dromes--and especially von Herzmann's base. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly, sir."

One could not but admire the cool confidence of the fellow. His complacency was not what Cowan had expected.

"If you think the risk is too great, alone," Cowan said, after watching his face for any hint of quailing, "I will send two other planes with you. They might help reduce the odds in case of unavoidable combat."

"Oh, that's not necessary," Siddons replied. "In fact, one plane has a better chance to escape combat, especially if there are some clouds to duck into. Anything else, sir?"

Cowan made a clicking sound with his tongue. The fellow wasn't human; he was an iceberg!

"That is all. And I wish you luck."

"Thank you, Major. And thanks for the mission." He gave McGee and Larkin the pitying look of one who has just drawn the grand prize in an open compet.i.tion, and without another word turned quickly and pa.s.sed through the door.

Cowan's face had a baffled look. "Well," he finally said, "he acts like a gamec.o.c.k, anyhow."

"Do you realize the danger of the mission?" McGee asked.

"It's not for me to consider that angle," the Major replied. "G 2 wants information, and I am under orders to help supply it. Danger? Yes.

That's war. If we lose--well, I'd rather not discuss it."

At that moment the door opened. There, framed against the night, stood Nathan Rodd! In salute he brought a gauze-wrapped hand to his head, a head so thickly swathed in bandages that only his face was showing and his service cap sat perched at a ridiculous angle.

"Lieutenant Rodd reports for duty, sir," he said.

Cowan, McGee and Larkin had stood transfixed, as men might who thought they were seeing a ghost. But Rodd's words, concise and strikingly characteristic of the taciturn Vermonter, snapped them into action. This was no ghost!

"Rodd!" Major Cowan exclaimed, and rushed across the room to grip Rodd's unbandaged left hand. "You here?"

Rodd considered it unnecessary to waste words on so stupid a question.

He merely offered his hand, when the Major released it, to McGee and Larkin, who were pounding him on the back in great glee.

"We thought you were dead," Cowan said.

"So did I--until I woke up," Rodd answered.

Cowan, noting the pallor of his face, pressed him into a chair. "Tell us about it," he urged. "Were you badly hurt? What happened? Didn't you crack up--"

Rodd lifted his good hand in protest. "One question at a time, Major.

That German found my motor and it conked. I regained control just in time to level off, but not in time to miss a tree. After that I don't know what happened. Came to, flat on my back, fifty feet away from my plane. It was burning. That's all there is to it."

"All there is to it!" Cowan snorted. "You're not sending a telegram.

Words won't cost you anything. Where have you been since then?"

"Hospital. Waiting for a chance to skip out."

"You mean--you ran away from the hospital?"

Rodd nodded.

"You are crazy, man! Why did you leave?"

"I don't like hospitals."

"But you are hurt! Is your head badly injured?"

"Cut."

"And your hand?"

"Cut."

Cowan could not escape laughing. McGee and Larkin joined in.

"I'm not laughing at your injury, Lieutenant," Cowan explained, "but at your way of telling it. If that should happen to Yancey he'd write a book about it. Of course, I'm delighted to see you alive. I had the good fortune to wipe out the one that shot you down. He went down spinning."

"See him crash?" Rodd asked.

"No. Things were pretty thick. I didn't have time to watch."

"Didn't kill him," Rodd announced.