"Where is the sun? I suppose all the boys that started when I did must have gone back long ago. The time must be at least mid-afternoon." The mists below evidently were rising and thickening. The boy hated to acknowledge to himself that he must be lost, but it looked that way. Cautiously he descended to lower levels but the landscape thus opaquely revealed showed but little that was definite. Lower still he flew. As the earth grew more and more distinct its strangeness did not diminish.
Though it was risky, he went lower still, until the tops of trees, the signs of half ruined houses began to appear. But nothing familiar was in sight. About this time, with day waning and his anxiety growing, Erwin was at last rewarded by glimpse of the sinking sun, seen hazily through a canopy of clouds. There was no mistaking that it was the sun and Orris found that he must have flown wrongly ever since he had put the Boche biplane out of commission. Already he was heading westward when from below there came a series of sharp reports from artillery evidently close by.
"Surely they cannot be shelling our trenches from way back here. I must be far behind the enemy lines — much too far to suit me. Ah, I what's that?"
That was an unmistakable whistle of bullets too close to be comfortable. At least one or two perforated his wings. Then Erwin pointed higher at the same time trying to keep his sense of direction, imparted by a momentary sight of the western sun. More gun shots: still more whistling of balls, and all too close to be comforting.
Up, up he went, veering more to the west. All at once came other gunshots, this time in an extended roar from an area covering perhaps a mile in extent.
"The Archies are getting too familiar," he grumbled. "I must put on more speed. Won't do for me to fail to return."
About that time a breeze sprang up from the east and the skies cleared through a narrow Vista, showing a war-scarred belt of country below with a small town ahead; that is, toward the west. But before he had time to consider this, he saw two airplanes rising from the main street of the little town, while the detonations of the Archies grew into a continuous roar.
"Guess they think they've cornered me," he thought, "but I'll give them a race at least. If I have to, I'll fight."
While reflecting, his machine was still rising rapidly, with the two
Boche planes in pursuit.
"They won't catch me unless I'm crippled by those pesky Archies."