Aided by men from the aerodrome, they extinguished the fire with a
ready hose, the Senator and the girls assisting. Carefully they
dragged out a horribly mutilated yet youthful form. A surgeon, with
the girls aiding, tried to alleviate the, pain of the dying man. His
lips moved.
"What's he trying to say, Vella?" demand the Senator. "You know some
German, don't you?"
"Sounds like 'Schwein, Schwein!' Doesn't that mean pigs, papa?"
"It sure does! There, he's talking again!"
The girls listened, but could not understand; while the surgeon,
formerly an intern at one of the New York hospitals, smiled pityingly.
"Poor fellow!" he volunteered. "He's not complimentary."
"What's he saying now? Sounds like American -- then something else."
"He says, 'Amerikaner-all swine-pigs,' and a lot more."
They drew back somewhat; but the girls whose sympathy predominated,
continued to minister to his needs until the last breath announced that
one more Boche had gone to his account.
It was an hour or so before the rest of the squadron again appeared.
With them were the scouting planes that had been wished for when the
enemy squadron so suddenly appeared. In the fights over the German
trenches another of our planes had somehow vanished. No one could say
further except that Erwin, the missing pilot, had been seen mounting
high up amid a scurry of clouds, with two pursuing Fokkers on his heels.
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