"You've deserted your friend, Philip Lannes, the finest of our airmen."
"Oh, no, I haven't. He's deserted me. I couldn't afford to be a burden on his aeroplane at such a time as this."
"I suppose not. I saw an aeroplane come down to earth a little while ago, and then rise again. I'm sure it was his machine, the Arrow."
"So am I."
"Here's where he naturally would be. Good-bye, Mr. Scott, and good luck to you. I must go on with my company."
"Good-bye and good luck," repeated John, as the Alsatian shot forward. He liked Weber, who had a most pleasing manner, and he was glad to have seen him once more.
"Who was that?" asked de Rougemont, waking from his sleep and catching the last words of farewell.
"An Alsatian, named Fernand Weber, who has risked his life more than once for France. He belongs to the motor-cycle corps that's just passing."
"May he and his comrades soon find the enemy, because here is the day."
The leaves and grass rippled before the breeze and over the eastern hills the dawn broke.