"No, if dad were in Paris I'd feel that he was comparatively safe. But first I want to know that he is. And yet, even if he has put up at that house in the Rue Lafayette, where he said in his letter he'd stay, there may be some danger."
"Danger in Paris? What do you mean, Tom?"
"Well, Paris has been bombed from the air, you know."
"True, Tom. But, say! we've almost come to disregard such mild things as that from the Huns, haven't we?"
"Well, we'll just stay right on here," decided Tom. "I don't mean to say that we'll stay around our hangar all the while, but we'll keep in touch, throughout the day, with the communication headquarters. Dad may send a message at any time, and I want to get it as soon as it arrives."
Jack could understand his chum's feelings, and so the Air Service boys, who, some time previous, had sought and received permission to go back several kilometers into the country for a rest, announced that they would stay on at the aerodrome.
Nor did they lack excitement. The place where they were stationed was a busy one. For every twenty pilots and observers there are detailed about one hundred men as helpers. There are cooks, photographers, mechanics of various sorts, telephone, telegraph and wireless operators, orderlies and servants.
Of these Tom and Jack had their share, for it is the business of an airman to fly and fight, and he does nothing except in that line. He is catered to and helped in every possible way when not in the air. He has some one to wait on him, to look after his machine, and to attend to his hurts, if he is unlucky enough to get any. Of course each flier goes over, personally, his own craft, but he has oilers and mechanics to do all the detail work.
"Well, there they go!" exclaimed Tom to Jack one morning, the second of their "vacation," as they observed a number of "aces" about to go up and search above the clouds for some Hun to attack.
"Yes, and I wish I was with them!" said Jack.