"Let me have a show for my white alley," Tom murmured to his chum.
"You've got one girl."
"You win," murmured Jack.
"Yes, we're from the United States," said Tom. "But it's queer to
see a girl here--from America or anywhere else. How'd you get
through the lines, and what can we do for you?"
"I am looking for my brother," was the answer. "I understood he was
stationed here, and I managed to get passes to come to see him, but
it wasn't easy work. I met this officer in his motor car, and he
brought me along the last stage of the journey. Can you tell me
where my brother is? His name is Harry Leroy."
Torn said afterward that he felt as though he had gone into a
spinning nose dive with a Boche aviator on his tail, while Jack
admitted that he felt somewhat as he did the time his gasoline pipe
was severed by a Hun bullet when he was high in the air and several
miles behind the enemy's lines,
"Your--your brother!" Tom managed to mutter.
"Yes, Harry Leroy. He's from the United States, too. Perhaps you
know him, as I notice you are both aviators. He told me if I ever
got to France to come to see him, and he mentioned the names of two
young men--I have them here somewhere--"
She began to search in the depths of a little leather valise she
carried, and, at that moment, the military chauffeur who had brought
her to the aviation field turned to her, and spoke rapidly in
French.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26