Anyway, the flames which had caught the wing fabric and were blazing the breadth of the wings above and jumping back now to the rudder and the tail were kept above; and to anyone on the ground the illusion of a machine shot down, burning and out of control, must have become complete.
Chester held on, not breathing. The momentary flutter and hover of the machine was over. It was dropping down again in a wild, sliding swoop—yet Hal made no move to stop it even when it half turned over.
Soon, however, he made a move, and, before the slide had gone too far, he caught it as before it had caught itself; it fluttered, hovered, the flames streaking up straight above it; the ground now just below. Then it went "off the wing" again and crashed.
Chester, leaping clear at the instant of the impact, stumbled and fell on his face and rolled down a shell hole. He caught himself, half stunned and dizzy, and tried to crawl back toward the burning plane. But Hal blundered against him and carried him back.
"All right," Hal whispered. "Are you?"
"All right," said Chester. "Great landing. I've fixed things back there. Time to be moving. Got your grenades?"
"You bet."
"All right. Good luck."
Their orders were to part now. Chester crawled one way, Hal the other. The biplane was burning with a great deal of smoke, which smothered the glow on the side they had leaped. And no German was near; they could be very sure of that. The gasoline now was ignited, and the wreck was blazing beautifully. The machine was known, of course, to be a bombing machine, shot down during operations. No one would know how many bombs had come down with it; no one would come close until after the flames had burned down. Then the Germans would find the "pilot" and the "bomber," the two still forms the lads had strapped to the machine before leaving their own lines. Everyone would be accounted for; no search for more would be made.
Both boys now were ready for their desperate work.