“Or fate,” added Jack.
“Well, fate plays no small part in an airman's life,” returned Tom. “While we are no more superstitions than any other soldiers, yet there are few airmen who do not carry some sort of mascot or good-luck piece. You know that, Jack.”
And even the casual reader of the exploits of the aviators must have been impressed with the fact that often the merest incident—or accident is responsible for life or death.
Death often passes within hair's breadth of the intrepid fliers, and some of them do not know it until after they have made a landing and have seen the bullet holes in their machine—holes that indicate how close the missiles have passed to them.
So, in a way, both Tom and Jack believed in luck, and they both believed that this same luck might point out to them a way of rescuing Harry Leroy.
Meanwhile they were kept busy. After the big battle in the air matters were quiet for a time on their sector of the front. The arrival of new fliers from America made it necessary to instruct them, and to this Tom, Jack and other veterans were detailed.
Then began a series of what Jack called “stunts.” In order to inspire the new pupils with confidence, the older flying men—not always older in years—would go aloft in their single planes and do all sorts of trick flying. Some of the pupils—the more daring, of course—wished to imitate these, but of course they were not allowed.
The pupils were first allowed merely to go with an experienced man. This, of course, they had done at the flying schools in the United States, and had flown alone. But they had to start all over again when on French soil, for here they were exposed, any time, to an attack from a Hun plane.
After they had, it was thought, got sufficient experience to undertake these trick features by themselves, they were allowed to make trial flights, but not over the enemy lines.
Tom and Jack gave the best that was in them to these enthusiastic pupils, and there was much good material.