"That was my intent, and it still holds. I was only seeking to learn if you were of the same mind since that powder mill let loose down there."
"I well know the odor of it," stoutly maintained Billy, "and it doesn't weaken my knees."
The young aviator, accepting the matter as settled, hastened toward staff headquarters. "Mr. Roque," he excitedly called, "Colonel Muller wants to try one of the No. 3's this morning, and I'm to pilot."
The secret agent lifted his eyebrows as though surprised, but he really was not. The arrangement had already been made.
"Say, Buddy, this is rough that we can't both go; and suppose something should happen to you?" Henri had just realized that something was up, in which his chum was vitally concerned.
"Don't you worry, pard," consoled Billy, "it is only a little spin of a few miles, and we'll be back in no time."
"Wish it was me," sighed Schneider, for this firebrand guessed that it would be a red-hot journey.
As the biplane swept into the breeze current, trending to the river, which then was running brimful, and in many places overflowing its banks between the two armies, Colonel Muller advised Billy to keep the machine climbing for the time being, as a terrific fusillade was in progress in the distance of the next two miles, the shells hurtling through the air like lighted express trains. In the three steep-sided ravines that deeply notched the plateau on the east French troopers swarmed like bees, and at this cover the big German guns were blindly banging.
"We can't see much, Colonel, at two thousand feet," complained Billy.