2
The flight to the airdrome some six kilometers south of Epernay was made without incident. That is, it was thought to be without incident until Yancey, leading B Flight, reported to Cowan that Siddons had been forced down by some trouble over Vitry. Cowan was evidently displeased. He had hoped for a perfect score.
“What was the matter?” he demanded, the ends of his moustache twitching nervously.
“Don’t know, sir. He kept droppin’ back. I swung alongside but I couldn’t savvy his signals. He kept pointin’ back at his tail. I couldn’t see anything wrong, but there’s a big ’drome at Vitry and he signaled me that he was goin’ down. I hung around to 128watch his landin’ and then hustled back to my flight.”
“Fuel up, fly back there and see what’s wrong,” Cowan ordered. “I’ve a sneaky suspicion that he wasn’t as bad off as he made out.”
As Yancey turned toward his ship, McGee came up, smiling with pleasure over the success of the flight.
“Just a minute, Yancey!” Cowan called. “I’ve changed my mind. You needn’t go back.”
He drew McGee to one side. “Do you remember passing over the French ’drome outside of Vitry?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Your plane is in good order?”