For days the French aviators had repeatedly scrutinized every acre of land looking for a concealed battery of growlers, snugly hidden in a wood on the rolling heights of the Cote Lorraine. These aviators had failed to mark a find.
The conference that the boys had witnessed at headquarters, when summoned by Colonel Bainbridge, had to do with this battery problem. They had then heard mention of the doings and failure of the flying corps, but further had not been taken into the confidence of the officers.
When the sergeant directed them to get their bundles, Billy and Henri began to hope that they might run into an opportunity to once again get near a flying-machine, if not into one.
“I’d like to get above ground once more, for sure I’ve had enough underground work lately to last me a lifetime.”
The desire of Billy to do some lofty sailing was twin with the wish that haunted Henri.
“Let’s volunteer to scout for that battery,” urged the latter, aroused by his chum’s suggestion.
“No use,” was Billy’s discouraging reply. “The colonel won’t stand for it.”
“But, maybe he would, after all,” reasoned Henri, “if we put it up to him the right way. His own son was in that branch of the service.”
“If you can convince the colonel, well and good.”
Billy appeared to think that there was a conspiracy afloat to keep him tied fast to the ground.