“What good will that do?” asked Nellie. “I've sent him a lot, but I can't be sure that he gets them. I don't even know that he is alive.”
“Oh, I think he is,” said Tom, hopefully. “If the German airmen were decent enough to let us know he was a prisoner of theirs, they would tell us if—if—well, if anything had happened to him.”
“I think,” he went on, “that you, can count on his being alive, though he isn't having the best time in the world—none of the Hun prisoners do. That's why I thought it would cheer him up to let him know we are thinking of him, and if we can send him some smokes, and some chocolate.”
“Oh, he is so fond of chocolate!” exclaimed Nellie. “He used to love the fudge I made. I wonder if I could send him any of that?”
Tom shook his head.
“It would be better,” he said, “to send only hard chocolate—the kind that can stand hard knocks. Fudge is too soft. It would get all mussed up with what Jack and I have planned to do to it.”
“What is that?” asked Bessie Gleason. “You haven't told us yet. How are you going to get anything to Harry through those horrid German lines?”
“We're not going through the German lines we're going above 'em; in an aeroplane. And when we get over the prison camp where Harry is held, we're going to drop down a package to him, with the letters, the chocolate and other things inside.”
“Oh, that's perfectly wonderful!” exclaimed Bessie. “But will the Germans let you do it?”
“Well,” remarked Jack, “they'll probably try to stop us, but we don't mind a little thing like that. We're used to it. Of course, as I tell Torn, it's a long chance, but it's worth taking. Of course it isn't easy to drop any object from a moving aeroplane and have it land at a certain spot. We may miss the mark.”