Meantime two of the German fighting machines had kept on for the big triplanes.  They were heading for fast, powerful machines, well armed, but they dashed at them as though they had no fear of result.  The first German machine to score a hit was a fast Albatros.  It dived straight at Richardson’s machine.  Richardson side-slipped and dropped like a stone till close to the ground.  Not a single German who watched his drop, whether watching from the air or from the ground, dreamed that the big machine was still under control.  Just before it seemed about to crash into the earth, however, Richardson righted it, and heading for home, skimmed the ground at a height of not more than fifty feet above the ground.  The doughty little major poured round after round of bullets from his machine-gun at the heads of the Huns in the trenches and dugouts as the fleeing plane passed close over the astonished Germans, and the whole thing was over before anyone except the two occupants of the plane realized what was taking place.

Not a single shot from the thousands fired hit the brave young pilot, though the major was not quite so fortunate, having been wounded in the wrist by a ball from the machine-gun of the flier who attacked them from the Albatros.  How they escaped death at his hands they hardly knew, for he had poured a veritable storm of lead into them at close range, and made dozens of holes in one or other of the three planes.  Richardson’s arrival with the major at the home airdrome was the first news to come back of the fight in the air.  The major reported that they had satisfactorily performed their part of the work and escaped with but little damage.  The Boche ammunition dump they were to assail had been blown into a thousand fragments, the detonation of the explosion having been heard for miles.

Meanwhile, Bob Haines and Dicky Mann in the other triplanes were having an exciting fight with another Albatros.  Bob had chosen to meet the Boche attack head on.  Dicky was a good shot, and tried his best to wing their fleet antagonist, but failed to hit him.  Perhaps the readiness of the two Americans to meet the attack, however, had somewhat disconcerted the German’s aim, for he too, missed the triplane.

The spotty clouds made the fighting in-and-out work that morning.  The four hunters were still in commission, as was the observation triplane.  Three Boche fliers of the seven had been accounted for, and a fourth driven down.  Things looked very good for the Brighton boys, but they were over enemy territory and by no means “out of the woods” yet.  A speedy Boche trio which had apparently not before seen the Americans suddenly dived from a good height and the fight began all over again.

In the melee of looping, side-slipping and nose-diving that ensued Bob got his big triplane headed for home and started off at high speed.  This left the four hunters to their own devices, with no other troubles than to down such German antagonists as they might encounter, and to get their own machines safely home if they could.