Hardly had he allowed himself to exult after this fashion than Jack discovered that Tom seemed to be greatly agitated.  So he once more looked down, filled with a sudden fear lest the gallant fighters in that adventurous bomber had paid dearly for their success.

He immediately saw that his alarm was not groundless.  The big Yankee plane must have been struck in some vital part, for it was rapidly sinking as though doomed.  Jack’s only consolation lay in the fact that the crew seemed to be in better luck than those of the stricken Gotha; for they managed to keep from turning turtle; and unless striking the ground with too great violence might yet come out of the affair alive, even though finding themselves prisoners of war.

Tom was already striking for the upper levels.  He saw that the other three bombers had also commenced to climb, since their mission was now carried out, and further risks would be only a needless hazard.  Then, too, the crews of the battle Gothas, realizing that they had failed to save the bridge, concluded to withdraw from the combat, leaving the Americans to make their way back to their starting point, victorious and rejoicing.

Yes, there was the signal flashing from the plane of the commander, which meant that the raiding squadron should assemble above the reach of the crackling shrapnel, and prepare in a body for the homeward journey.

A sense of exultation, mingled with sincere thankfulness, gripped the hearts of the two Air Service Boys as they realized that the peril was now really a thing of the past.  The homeward trip would be a mere bagatelle, for surely no Huns would venture to attack them while on the way.  By exercising good judgment they ought also to keep above the reach of those elevated anti-aircraft guns along the front hills.

Now Jack remembered the temporary blinding sensation.  He found on investigating that he had been near a serious accident, since a passing bullet had grazed his head, cutting the skin and causing quite a copious flow of blood.

“What’s happened to you?” called out the alarmed Tom, on seeing that the other was binding his handkerchief about his head.

“Another scratch, that’s all,” replied Jack, as though that were only a matter of course, to be expected when modern knights of the upper air currents sallied forth bent on adventure.  “A miss is as good as a mile, you know, Tom.  And I guess I have a hard head in the bargain.  It’s all right, nothing to worry over.  Fortunately it didn’t strike me in the face, and mar my beauty any.”

Jack could joke under almost any serious conditions; but Tom felt relieved to know the worst.  They were at the time back again in their appointed place, tailing the procession.

Counting again as best he could, Jack discovered that there were only seven of the battleplanes in the double line now.  It looked very much as though the loss of the big bomber was not the only penalty they had paid for their daring raid.  But no doubt the story would all be told after the flight was over and the various pilots and observers could get together to compare notes.