"Goodbye."
"Ting-a-ling-ling!"
Thus the brief conversation closed, and within another thirty seconds the orders had been given for "Air raid action" and every one was ready. The men of "B" Flight, No. -- Squadron under Dastral, were standing by their machines, and the aerial gunners and observers were placing the last drums of ammunition in the cockpit, where they would be ready to hand. Almost immediately afterwards the sentries on duty at the eastern end of the aerodrome gave the alarm:
"Aeroplanes approaching from the east!" Half a dozen pairs of glasses soon found the machines, and, for a moment, there was a little thrill of excitement, as the anti-aircraft gunners received their orders to load up and fix the range.
"Stand by to start the propellors!" shouted Dastral, the Flight-Commander, to the air mechanics.
"Are all the pilots ready?" came next.
"Yes, sir," replied the Flight-Sergeant.
In another moment the whole flight would have been in the air doing a rapid spiral, for the hum of the approaching aeroplane engines could be distinctly heard now.
"Whir-r-r! whir-r-r-r!" Nearer and nearer came the well-known sound of the propellors, when suddenly the Squadron-Commander, who had been intently watching the early morning visitants through his glasses, called out:
"Dismiss, 'B' Flight. It's only Graham's party returning from their reconnaissance."