“We’ll meet them again,” the young Lord’s tone was confident, as at last they returned to earth.
“Wolves, weasels, skunks, and all kinds of varmints visit the same little corner of the earth time after time. So do the Jerries. That big boaster, Wick, will return. And then!” It was clear that he had not forgotten the loss of his most beloved flying mate, Fiddlin’ Johnny.
“I wonder,” Dave said thoughtfully. “Does Wick always fly his men in that V-shaped formation?”
“Always, I am told,” was the answer.
“He assumes that we want to get at him and that we’ll go for the man protecting his tail,” Dave said thoughtfully. “That gives his other men a chance to close in and clean us up. Supposing we fooled him by taking off his three men on the other line, one at a time?”
“It’s an idea,” the young Lord replied. “Perhaps we’ll try it. Yes, I think we shall—when the time comes. And it will come, never fear!”
“Alice must be lonesome with Cherry and the children gone,” Dave suggested to Brand that evening. “Let’s go over.”
“I can’t tonight,” was Brand’s reply. “The Lark is giving me a lesson on handling a Brownie. You can’t learn too much, you know, not in this man’s war.”
“Nor half enough,” Dave agreed.
Mounting Brand’s bicycle, Dave rode over the pleasing country roads to Ramsey Farm. Night was just falling. There was a glorious freshness about the night air. The war seemed far away. “As if it couldn’t touch any of us,” he thought. How wrong he could be at times.