“Nice man-trap that sort of scouting is!” grunted the aide.
“Well, well!” The old General laughed again. “It’s late in the day to kick. We’ve known long ago what sort of soup was being cooked for our eating. The only thing to do now is not to let them ladle it into us too hot.”
An officer with the insignia of the aviation corps appeared before the tent-flap and saluted. A trickle of blood was creeping down his forehead and across one cheek. “Hullo!” said the aide. “Then we haven’t lost that machine after all! Did you get anything?”
The Report of the Air Scout
“Cavalry and artillery have seized all the railroad and electric lines to Providence,” reported the flier. “Apparently they are not moving into the town, but holding tight so that the troops that are landing there can complete their line. Couldn’t get details—three bi-planes got after me within twenty minutes.”
“What delayed you?”
“They drove me south to the coast. Going over Kingston, I got touched up with shrapnel. Then two other fliers came down on me, coming from the direction of our own lines. I had to hustle across the Sound and fly around Montauk Point and inland before I could shake them off.”
“What did you see on Montauk?” asked the General, quickly.
“A small force is holding it, apparently for a supply and repair base,” said the scout. “I saw a row of forges in one place.”