Leon opened his eyes. He had an indistinct remembrance of the fight but that was all. His last recollection had been of shouts and shots and a violent struggle for breath.
Where was he? There was a great roaring in his ears and a sense of confusion all about him. Perhaps he was in the trenches again and the roar he heard was the drum-fire of the Germans. Undoubtedly the Boches were attacking and they must be repulsed at all costs. He struggled to get up. His head ached painfully and a sharp twinge in his left arm caused him to utter a slight groan.
It was dark all around him and he could not see distinctly. The roaring continued and he stretched out his hand. He felt something smooth; probably it was the barricade in the front of the trench. Where was his gun? If he only had a hand-grenade: the Germans would pay dearly for any advance in that position. Again he tried to struggle to his feet and he heard above the roar a familiar voice speaking in his ear.
"How do you feel, Leon?" inquired Earl.
"Where are we?"
"We're on our way home."
"To America?"
"No, to the douzième. We'll be there before long."
"How are we going?" demanded Leon greatly puzzled. He was having a hard time understanding what was taking place. His brain was still stunned and worked slowly.
"We're in the monoplane," explained Earl.