"Seems to be cheers, as well as these people can cheer, which is not like the good old United States way," Tubby commented.
"You can see what it means," remarked Rob. "There goes a Belgian biplane up, to get after the bold German!"
"My stars!" gasped Tubby. "Now we will see a circus! Think of two rival pilots maneuvering up there among the clouds, and trying to knock each other out! Whew! But watch him boring up in spirals, would you? Does the German see him, do you think, and is he beginning to skip out?"
"Nothing like that has happened yet, as far as I can see," admitted Rob. "There he starts around again, as if meaning to complete his map, no matter if a dozen Belgian or English airmen come up after him."
"It'll be a fight, then, see if it doesn't!" Tubby affirmed.
"There goes a second aëroplane, and this time a monoplane," Merritt told them, pointing as he spoke. "Unless I miss my guess, there's an English aviator in that machine. It doesn't carry the little Belgian flag the other does, you notice."
"Two against one," muttered the deeply interested Tubby. "Better be making up your mind to turn tail and run, Mr. Deutschland. The odds are against you, and, if you should get tumbled out of your seat a mile high, I'd hate to be under you when you strike the ground."
"They seem to be maneuvering for position," asserted Rob. "Yes, both are circling around now, and going still higher all the time. Before long the German will be hidden in that cloud bank, and that's what he's aiming to have happen."
"I thought I saw something like a little puff of smoke just then!" declared Merritt, who had exceptionally good eyes, strong almost as those of an eagle.
"Then they must be bombarding each other!" Tubby ventured to say, evidently greatly thrilled by the spectacle that could never have been dreamed of a few generations back.