The aeroplane still raced towards the earth. Suddenly it began to rise and up, up, it soared. Higher and higher it went, describing huge circles in its flight. The little white clouds all about told with what zeal its destruction was sought, but still it kept on. Now it had reached a level as high as the giant fokker. Meanwhile the other French machine raced to its aid.
"You'll see the German turn back now," predicted Jacques.
"Why shouldn't he?" demanded Earl. "It's two to one."
"His only hope is to disable the first machine before the other comes up," said Jacques. "Otherwise he'll have to run for it."
"How high do you suppose they are now?" asked Earl.
"Five thousand feet," said Leon. "Is that about right, Jacques?"
"I should think so; just about," replied the young Frenchman.
Almost every soldier in the great camp was standing, gazing skyward at the combat going on among the clouds over their heads. These duels in the air were not infrequent but they never lost their power to thrill. To see two huge mechanical birds each maneuvering for a chance to strike a death blow to its rival was a sight to stir the blood of any man, no matter how often he had seen its duplicate before.
"What did I tell you?" demanded Jacques suddenly.
The fokker turned at the approach of its second enemy and in full retreat made for the German lines. The two French machines did not attempt a pursuit, but after one or two triumphant circles were headed for home. A few moments later they passed directly over the spot where the three young soldiers were seated, on their way to their respective hangars.