“Hardly that, though it has been done. A few aviators have got away from German prison camps. But it's only one chance in many thousand. No, what I meant was that—well, it's too small and slim a chance to talk about, I'm afraid.”
“Oh, no!” she hastened to assure him. “Do tell me! No chance is too small. What do you mean?”
“Well, sometimes rescues have been made,” went on Tom. “They are even more rare than escapes, but they have been done. I was thinking that perhaps after Jack and I get in with Pershing's boys we might be in some big raid on the Hun lines, and then, if we could get any information as to your brother's whereabouts, we might plan to rescue him.”
“Oh, do you think you could?”
“I certainly can and will try!” exclaimed Tom, earnestly.
“Oh, will you? Oh, I can't thank you enough!” and she clasped his hand in both hers and Tom blushed deeply.
“Please don't count too much on it,” Tom warned Nellie. “It's a desperate chance at best, but it's the only one I can see that we can take. First of all, though, we've got to get some word as to where Harry is.”
“How can you do that?”
“Some of the Hun airmen are almost human, that is compared to the other Boche fighters. They may drop a cap of Harry's or a glove, or something,” and Tom told of the practice in such cases.
“Oh, if they only will!” sighed Nellie. “But it is almost too much to hope.”