"What are you going to do, Tom?" asked Jack one evening, after an unsuccessful day's flight. For Tom was going toward his hangar.
"Going up."
"What for?" Jack went on.
"Oh, no reason in particular. I just feel like flying. We didn't do much to-day. Had to come back on account of mist, and we didn't see enough to pay for the petrol used. Want to come along?"
"Oh, I might, yes."
Tom and Jack went up, as did several more. But the two remained up longer than did the others, and Jack was somewhat surprised to see his chum suddenly head for the German lines, but at an angle that would take him over them well to the south of where the observation work had been carried on.
"I wonder what he's up to," mused Jack; "Guess I'd better follow and see."
There was not much chance of an aerial battle at that hour, for dusk was coming on. There had been no bombing squadron sent out, which would have accounted for Tom going to meet them, and Jack wondered greatly at his chum's action.
Still there was no way of asking questions just then, and Jack followed his friend. They sailed over the German lines at a good height, and Jack could keep Tom in view by noting the lights on his plane.
These were also seen by the Germans below, and the anti-aircraft guns began their concert, but without noticeable effect. None of the Hun airmen seemed disposed to accept a challenge to fight, so Tom and Jack had the upper air to themselves.