The balloons were gone. The few enemy planes left to guard the
gasbags had been put to flight by the daring raiders. Blaine himself
had sent one down in flames. Others had followed the retreating
raiders. Now that a night drive was on, other planes would be
converging towards the salient thus suddenly selected for a night
assault. In another instant Blaine's mind was made up.
"Here's at you, my friend," he said to himself. "I'll try to find out
who and what you are. Damn the risk!"
With the thought he turned the nose of the triplane downward, so that
it was almost at a perpendicular angle. Before this he had noted that
around the point whence had risen that telltale signal there seemed to
be a foggy void. This meant to Lafe that, for the present at least,
there was nothing doing at this particular spot. Of course those
signal lights might draw dangerous attention, but Blaine had resolved
to risk the chances of that. Perhaps one of his comrades in distress
had deliberately courted death or imprisonment m order to let their
side know what was taking place. "Bully boy, whoever he is!" he
thought.
Briskly yet carefully working his machine, Lafe descended until, when
he flatted out, he could see through the fog the darker background of
war-torn earth.
"I'll flash our private signal," he resolved. "He may see it. So may
Fritz.
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