"Well, no, not actively. He's a little too old for that, I'm afraid, though he's anxious enough. But he left for Paris the day he wrote this.

He ought to be here now, for he would, most likely, get off ahead of the mail, which, sometimes, seems slower than mola.s.ses."

"That's right!" exclaimed Jack, with such energy that Tom asked:

"What's the matter? Haven't you heard from Bessie lately?"

"Oh--that!" murmured Jack, but Tom noticed that his friend blushed under his coat of tan. "Go on," Jack said, a moment later, "tell me about your father. Is the French government going to give him a big order for his stabilizer, now that we got that paper away from that sneak of a Tuessig?"

"Well, I guess dad's trip here has something to do with his aeroplane device, but he hints in his letter about something else. He said he didn't want to write too much for fear a spy might get hold of the information. But you know my father is an expert on ordnance matters and big guns, as well as in other lines of fighting."

"That's so, Tom. He certainly is a wonder when it comes to inventing things. But what do you suppose his new mission is?"

"I can't quite guess. But it is for the service of the Allies."

"And you say he's on his way to Paris now?"

"He ought to be there by this time," Tom answered. "I'm going to see if I can't get permission to send a message through, and have an answer from dad. Maybe he might get out here to see us."

"Or we could go in and meet him."

"Not for a week. You know we just came back from leave, and we won't be over our tour of duty for seven days more. But I can't wait that long without some word. I'm going to see what I can find out."

Tom and Jack, like all the other American fliers, were in high favor with the French officers. In fact every aviator of the Allied nations, no matter how humble his rank, is treated by his superiors almost as an equal. There is not that line of demarcation noticed in other branches of the service. To be an aviator places one, especially in England and France, in a special cla.s.s. All regard him as a hero who is taking terrible risks for the safety of the other fighters.

So Tom readily received permission to send a message to the hotel in Paris mentioned by his father as the place where Mr. Raymond would stay.

And then Tom had nothing to do but wait for an answer.

Nothing to do? No, there was plenty. Both Tom and Jack had to hold themselves in readiness for instant service. They might be sent out on a bombing expedition at night in the big heavy machines, slow of flight but comparatively safe from attack by other aircraft.

They might have the coveted honor of being selected to go out in the swift, single Nieuports to engage in combat with some Hun flier. To become an "ace"--that is a birdman who, flying alone, has disposed of five enemies--is the highest desire of an aviator.

Tom and Jack, eager and ambitious, were hoping for this.

Again, in the course of the day's work, they might be selected to go up in the big bi-motored Caudrons for reconnoissance work. This is dangerous and hard. The machines carry a wireless apparatus, over which word is sent back to headquarters concerning what may be observed of the enemy's defenses, or a possible offensive.

Often the machines go beyond the range of their necessarily limited wireless, and have to send back messages by carrier pigeons which are carried on the craft.

By far the most dangerous work, however, is that of "_relage_" or fire control. This means that two men go up in a big machine that carries a large equipment. Their craft is heavy and unwieldy, and has such a spread of wing surface that it is not easily turned, and if attacked by a German Fokker has little chance of escape. A machine gun is carried for defense.

It is a function of those in the machine to send word back to the battery officers of the effect of the shots they are firing, that the elevation and range may be corrected. And those who go out on "_relage_"

work are in danger not only from the fire of the enemy's batteries, but often, also, from their own.

Tom and Jack had their share of danger and glory during the week they were on duty following the receipt of the two pieces of news. They went up together and alone, and once, coming back from a successful trip over the enemy's lines, Tom's machine was struck by several missiles. His cheek was cut by one, and his metal stability control was severed so that his craft started to plunge.

Tom thought it was his end, but he grasped the broken parts of the control rod in one hand, and steered with the other, bringing his machine down behind his own lines, amid the cheers of his comrades.

"And I'm glad to be back, not only for my sake, but for the sake of the machine. She's a beauty, and I'd have hated like anything to set fire to her," remarked Tom, after his wound had been dressed.

He referred to the universal practice of all aviators of setting fire to their craft if they are brought down within the enemy lines, and are not so badly injured as to prevent them from opening the gasoline tank and setting a match to it. This is done to prevent the machine, and often the valuable papers or photographs carried, from falling into the hands of the enemy.

The end of the week came, the last of seven anxious days, and it was time for Tom and Jack to be relieved for a rest period. And the days had been anxious because Tom had not heard from his father.

"I hope the vessel he was coming on wasn't torpedoed," said Tom to his chum. "He's had more than time to get here and send me some word. None has come. Jack, I'm worried!" And Tom certainly looked it.

CHAPTER III

ON TO PARIS

Those were the days--and they had been preceded by many such--when travel across the Atlantic was attended with great risk and uncertainty.

No one knew when a lurking German submarine might loose a torpedo at a ship carrying men, women and children. Many brave and innocent people had found watery graves, and perhaps suffered first a ruthless fire from the German machine guns, which were even turned on lifeboats! So it was no wonder that Tom Raymond was worried about his father.

"It's queer we can't get any word from the authorities in Paris,"

remarked Jack, as he and his chum were speculating one day on what might have happened.

"Yes, and that helps to bother me," Tom admitted. "It isn't as if they weren't trying, for the officers here have done all they can. They've gotten off my messages, but they say there is no reply to them."

"Then it must mean that your father, if he is in Paris, hasn't received them."

"Either that, Jack; or else he doesn't dare reply."

"Why wouldn't he dare to, Tom?"

"Well, I don't know that I can give a good reason. It might be that he is on such a secret mission that he doesn't want even to hint about it.

And yet I can't understand why he doesn't send me at least a message that he has arrived safely."

As Tom said this he looked at his chum. The same thought was in the mind of each one:

Had Mr. Raymond arrived safely?

That was what stirred Tom's heart. He knew the danger he and Jack had run, coming across to do their part in flying for France, and he well realized that the Germans might have been more successful in attacking the vessel on which his father had sailed, than they had the one which had carried Tom and Jack.

"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Jack of his chum. "You know we arranged, when we should get our leave, to go back to that pretty little French village, which seemed so peaceful after all the noise of battle and the roar of the aeroplane engines."

"Yes, I know we planned that," said Tom, reflectively. "But, somehow, I feel that I ought to stay here."

"And not take our relief?"

"Oh, no. We'll take that," decided Tom. "We must, in justice to ourselves, and those we work with. You know they tell us an airman must always be at his best, with muscles and nerves all working together. And a certain amount of rest and change are necessary, after a week or so of steady flying. So we'll take our rest in order to be in all the better shape to trim the Fritzies. But I was thinking of staying right here."

"And not go back into the country?" asked Jack.

Tom shook his head.

"I'd like to stay right here until I get word from my father," he said.

"He may send a message at any time, and he knows I am stationed here. Of course I could send him word that we're having a little vacation, and give him our new address.