“What is an Ace?” queried Jimmy Hill.

“That term started with the French,” answered the mechanic.  “We use it here now, sometimes.  It means a superior aviator, who has brought down five adversaries, in fair air-fight.  The bringing-down business, at least so far as the exact number is concerned, is not always applied, I guess.  They just call a man an Ace when he is a real graduate flyer, and gets the habit of bringing down his Boche when he goes after him.”

Every conversation around that part of the world seemed to have a grim flavor.  The Brighton boys were getting nearer to actual war every minute, they felt.

The boys found a row of S.P.A.D. machines not far distant.  The “Spads,” as the aviators called them, were fleet biplanes.  They found a genial airman to tell them something of the planes, which he described as the latest type of French fighting aeroplane.  “This sort has less wing surface than any machine we have had here,” said the airman.  “It is mighty fast.  These four have just come back from a good pull of work.  I think this lot were all that is left of two dozen that were attached to the B squadron just before the last big push.”

“Cheerful beggar!” spoke up another pilot within earshot.  “Are you trying to impress a bunch of newcomers?” He walked toward the boys.  “Are you not some of the crowd that got in last night?”

“Yes,” answered Bob Haines.  “We’re the Brighton Academy bunch.  We have just come over from home.”

“Do you know a fellow called Corwin?”

“I am Corwin,” said Harry.

“My name is Thompson.  Your brother Will was over here last week looking for you, and told me that if I was still here when you arrived I was to look you up.  He may not get a chance to run over again for a bit.  He is some distance away.”

Harry was delighted.  He introduced his companions to Thompson, who told them Will Corwin was fit and well, and had become quite famous as a flyer.  Thompson promised to dine at their mess that evening.  He did so, and after dinner sat and chatted about flying in general, telling the Brighton boys many things strange to them about the development of the flying service since the beginning of the war.

“I was in England in August, 1914, when the war broke out,” Thompson said.  “I had been interested for some time in flying; had learned to fly a machine myself, and had watched most of the big international flying meets.  I knew some of the rudimentary points about aircraft, and as I had a cousin who was in the motor manufacturing business in England, I had been put fairly into touch with aeroplane engines.  I don’t know how much is known at home about what the French and British flying corps have done out here, but to get a fair idea of what they have accomplished one has to know something of the way both France and England were caught napping.  I think it is fair to say that there was not one firm in all Great Britain at the outbreak of hostilities which had proven that it could turn out a successful aeroplane engine.