“The Zeps are coming!”
Tom and Jack, with others who were detailed to repel the raid, rushed from their cats, hastily donned their fur garments, and ran to their aeroplanes, which were a “tuned up” and waiting.
“There they are!” cried Torn, as he got into his single-seated plane, an example followed on his part by Jack. “Look!”
Jack gazed aloft. There was a riot of fire from the anti-aircraft guns of the French and British, but they were firing in vain, for the Zeppelins flew high, knowing the danger from the ground batteries.
Sharp, stabbing shafts of light from the powerful electric lanterns shot aloft, and now and then one of them would rest for an instant on a great silvery cigar-shape—the gas bag of the big German airships that were beating their way toward Paris, there to deal death and destruction.
“Come on!” cried Tom, as his mechanician started the motor. “I'm going to get a Zep!”
“I'm with you!” yelled Jack, and they soared aloft side by side.
CHAPTER XIX. ON PATROL
Aloft with Tom and Jack were several other fighters, for it was not only considered a great honor to bring down a Zeppelin, but it would save many lives if one or more of the big gas machines could be prevented from dropping bombs on Paris or its environs.