“He’s all right,” Hampden replied. “A lot of the ferry pilots are crack flyers–just a tough break in the game. It might have happened to you.”
“I wasn’t talkin’ about him” Yancey replied and 71pointed to McGee’s plane, now banking in to a landing at the far end of the field. “I meant that bird down there.”
“Oh, McGee?”
“Yes.”
Hampden laughed, skeptically. “Fine chance to get a flyer like that!”
“Oh, I dunno. Some American outfit will draw him. He and that other fellow, Larkin, have asked to be repatriated.”
“How do you know?”
“I was with ’em in town last night and they told me all about it. They flew up to Paris day before yesterday, and on the way back they landed at Chaumont and made a call on G.H.Q. They put their case before the Chief of Staff and asked him to use his influence. They’ve made out formal application. Both of them are tickled pink over the prospect. McGee said he would like to get with this squadron.”
“Bully for him!” Hampden enthused. “Maybe we don’t look so bad, if fellows like that are willing to throw in with us, eh, Tex?”
Siddons was coldly skeptical. “You have the weirdest imagination. Why should he want to be with us?”