Tex Langdon nodded. There was a grim smile on his face.
“I will, Captain,” he stated. “He got the Albatross, all right. Got back here without any trouble, they tell me.”
The Squadron C. O. nodded. “Went around to the west, slipped under the fog and came in just off the earth. Of course, he knew—”
The captain frowned and changed the subject.
“We expect two new ships down from Colombey before dusk, if the fog lifts. You’ll draw one of them. We’ll try to salvage your old ship. Tomorrow morning you can stay back of the lines, working on your new gun and feeling out the ship. I’m not exactly praising your work, Lieutenant. Get that straight. But you had a bad ground fog. Bad enough to give you another crack at the front. This time—”
He shrugged his shoulders, smiling at Tex Langdon. The lieutenant nodded.
“I understand, Captain,” he stated. “I’ve cracked up a lot of ships in a short time. But I’ve been trying—”
The C. O. smiled slightly. “That helps but it isn’t the whole thing, Lieutenant,” he stated. “I know you’re trying. It isn’t enough. You’ve got to succeed. Won’t always have Lieutenant Adams around to pull you out of scrapes, you know.”
Tex felt rage strike at him. But he controlled his feelings with an effort. Adams, getting him out of a scrape!
The C. O. nodded dismissal. Tex Langdon went from the captain’s office toward his own coop. It was almost four o’clock; it had taken him five hours to reach the Squadron from Battery H4. He was about to turn into the barracks when he almost collided with Lieutenant Adams. That officer muttered something, turned to one side. Tex caught him by the arm.