“Never hear of him?”
“No, Monsieur Carrol Gordon.”
“I have,” said George, in an undertone to Don.
“Then I’ll read something for your special benefit, Mr. Peur Jamais.”
Thereupon, Carrol Gordon, the owner of the prized bundle, having opened one of the papers and allowed the yellowish glow of the lamplight to fall across the page, began:
“‘Advices recently received from the western theatre of battle state that the famous Red Squadron of Death, commanded by Captain Baron Von Richtofen, has again made its appearance in several places along the front.’”
“‘The Red Squadron of Death!’” echoed Peur Jamais, something akin to awe in his tone.
“‘The Red Squadron of Death!’” repeated Don.
“Quite an impressive title, I’ll admit,” remarked Carrol, smiling at the great interest which the article had evidently aroused. He resumed:
“‘The Albatross planes belonging to this feared and death-dealing squadron are painted a brilliant scarlet from nose to tail. All are manned by pilots of the greatest skill and daring; and only the most experienced air fighters of the Allies can expect to cope with these crafty and dangerous enemies. The bizarre idea of the red planes is no doubt an attempt on the part of Captain Baron Von Richtofen to instil fear into the hearts of the Allied Flying Corps. At any rate, the reappearance of this squadron, which claims to have destroyed more than sixty allied planes, heralds the near approach of many bitter battles in the air.’”