So Jack
could see much to interest him as they sped onward. Finally he again
broke out with an exclamation.
"Nothing but the ruins of towns and villages down below, Tom," he called.
"The fighting has been fierce along this sector, I should say. Why, even
the woods have been smashed, and it looks like a regular desert. Poor
France, what you must have suffered at the hands of those savage Huns."
"Yes," replied the pilot, over his shoulder, "here is where much of the
most desperate fighting of the British took place. Some of those ruined
places were beautiful French towns only a few years ago, where laces and
such things were made for most of the fashionable world. Now they look
about like the ruins of Ninevah or Babylon."
Fortune favored them during the next hour, and even Jack's spirits
had begun to improve. Then came a check to the sanguine nature of
the outlook.
"Sorry to tell you, Jack," reported Tom, after some uneasy movements,
which the other had noticed with growing alarm, "that we'll have to make
a landing. After all, it's not going to be a non-stop flight to the
coast. Only a little matter, but it should be looked after before it
develops into serious trouble. I'm going to drop down to a lower level,
where we can keep an eye out for a proper landing place."
"But that means time lost!"
"We can spare an hour if necessary, and still get to Dunkirk by evening,"
Tom replied cheerfully. "I was a bit suspicious of that very thing, and
only for our desperate need of haste would have waited to start until it
had been gone over again.
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