A motor cycle, with side car, running without lights, came popping down the street. Without hesitation McGee ran out into the middle of the street, waving his arms and shouting wildly. The motor cycle swerved sharply, missed the dancing, gesticulating figure and skidded to a stop. "Say, what's eatin' you, soldier?" demanded the irate American motor cycle orderly. For answer McGee sprang into the side car and barked a few crisp, sharp orders that brooked no hesitation. The responsive little motor roared its staccato eagerness as the machine lurched forward, leaving Larkin speechless and wondering. "What do you know about that?" he mused. "Now what can that little shrimp be up--" he hesitated, struck by the same thought, he felt sure, that had plunged McGee into such sudden action. Then he began shouting for the driver of their motor car. "Martins! Martins! Oh, Martins!" Blast the fellow, doubtless he was already in some place of security. "Martins! Oh, Martins!" A door flew open, letting out a beam of light as Martins came out, clad only in his underclothes and yawning prodigiously. "Did you call, sir?" he asked, blinking foolishly as he studied the flashing rays of the sky-searching lights. "Yes! Get the car! Snappy, now!" "Yes, sir. Just as soon as I can get on some clothes." "Hang the clothes! Get the car--and set the road afire between here and the 'drome. Move! Don't stand there blinking like a blooming owl." Martins sped around the house, a white-clad figure racing bare-footed for the car and muttering under his breath every time his flying feet struck bits of gravel and sharp stones. The sound of the airplane motors was now much nearer; the siren was still screaming its fright; anti-aircraft guns were futilely belching steel into the air, and the searchlights were getting jumpy in their haste to locate the intruders and hold them in a beam of light. 3 Martins, with Larkin seated at his side, hurled the car through the narrow streets and out to the airdrome with a daring recklessness known only to war-trained chauffeurs who could push a car faster without lights than most people would care to ride in broad daylight. But their speed was slow compared to that made by the surprised motor cycle orderly who had thundered off with McGee, and when Larkin sprang from the car as it screeched to a stop at the edge of the 'drome his ear caught the sound of a Clerget motor pounding under an advanced throttle as it lifted a plane from the ground at the far end of the dark field. An excited, buzzing group of pilots and mechanics were huddled together on the tarmac near the circus tent that served as a hangar, and still more men were emerging hastily from the humpbacked, black steel elephants that served them as quarters. Larkin ran toward the group near the hangar entrance,