"Pipe the plane!" yelled Jimmy suddenly, pointing upward. "I'll bet it's just come from over the German lines. She's a Frenchie, too. You can see her colors. She's flying pretty low."
"She's coming down fast!" shouted Bob. "Looks as though she'd been nipped."
Pausing to watch the plane, it seemed to the Khaki Boys that it was, indeed, coming down altogether too fast for safety to its pilot.
"He's lost control of it! No, he hasn't, either! He's sure some birdman. Oh, joy! Watch him!"
Jimmy was prancing about, flourishing his wash, as he poured forth this volley of excited exclamation.
"He's going to land right the other side of the depot! Come on! I want to get a look at him!"
Bob had now taken up the cry. With "Come on!" he was off across the field, his three bunkies keeping up with his mad dash. Already a crowd of Sammies had come out of the depot, and were running toward the aviator, who had now made a skilful and easy landing.
"We may get the grand snub," panted Bob, as they neared the quiescent plane.
Its pilot was just stepping out of the seat. He moved very stiffly, and staggered a little, as his feet touched the ground. His face partially toward the plane, he turned smilingly as the noisy delegation of Sammies rushed up to him.