"Give him a light lad." said Byers to the orderly. "He knows where we
are, but in this black night he might hit some building or the fence.
Down on the gravel ran the assistant, followed by Byers, who saw the
flare go up. In a minute a tattered triplane emerged into the light
and made an easy landing not far from where the unconscious Stanley had
previously been carried from his Fokker to the casual dormitory.
Almost before they reached it two of the night watch among the
mechanics arrived and lifted out our old friend Buck Bangs from Idaho.
He was unconscious, the cause being a body bullet wound on the right
side, the bullet being later found bedded in the back of the seat in
his Nieuport.
The machine was riddled even worse than Stanley's Fokker, but
fortunately not in any vital parts, nor had the planes, though
perforated like a sieve in many spots, been injured in any way to
impair their vitality for the frames and joints were all right.
"Take him up to the Casual Dormitory boys," ordered Byers. "Careful!
We don't know how badly he is hurt."
Up they bore him, leaving the machine where it stood. Into the
dormitory he was carried and laid on a vacant bed near the now
recovering Stanley. The latter had shown signs of resuscitation and
now, as they bore in poor Buck, his head hanging helplessly, his limbs
limp and unstrung, Stanley opened his eyes for the first time.
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