Before the bombarding squadron returned in the early morning the order came for the battleplanes to get under way. Sanderson had not had much sleep, but he was perfectly ready for the work in hand.
As the young American "jumped" his aeroplane from the ground and soared upward he saw many other machines rising—not only of his own escadrille, but of the several others brought to the sector for this attack.
His Nieuport scaled up the airways at a sharp angle—too sharp, perhaps, with the wind that was blowing. Surely the American was not careless in his management of the aeroplane—on such an occasion as this, too!
Yet his mind might not have been wholly upon the work before him. Was Belinda thinking of him at this moment? Was she kinder to him in her secret thoughts than she was openly?
She must know that an attack in force upon the German aircraft fleet would mean the destruction of many French aeroplanes and the death of their pilots. He had no charm against disaster!
Suddenly his Nieuport swerved, rolled sideways, and seemed about to turn over. Sanderson shut off the motor. The machine, quivering and shaking, seemed to stand still on its tail for a moment.
A stronger draft of air had struck the wings, and only the pilot's quick action in shutting off the motor had saved him from a fatal accident. The Nieuport righted itself, and Sanderson drove on after the members of his escadrille.
CHAPTER XIV
AMID WAR'S ALARMS
Sanderson, in his fast-flying Nieuport, shaped his course in a long slant toward the trenches. He flew over the hospital in which Belinda worked. She might then be wending her way toward it from her lodging. If so, and if she saw the flotilla of aeroplanes overhead would she think of him?