"Where's McGee?" he shouted, knowing the answer but hoping for some word that would give the lie to what his ears told him. He knew that the plane which had now swung back over the field and was roaring directly above as it battled for altitude was none other than McGee's balky little Camel. But no one answered him; they merely stared, as men who have just witnessed a feat of daring too noble for words, or as girls who face an impending tragedy and are too horror-stricken for action. "Where's McGee?" Larkin shouted again. "Don't stand there like a bunch of yaps! You'll be getting a setting of high explosive eggs here in a minute. Don't you hear that siren? Those Boche planes? Where's McGee, I asked you?" Yancey stepped from the group and pointed up. "I reckon that's him up yonder," he said in the slow drawl that was doubly maddening at such a moment. "He blew in here a few minutes ago like a Texas Panhandle twister, ordered the greaseballs to roll his plane on the line, and was off before she was good and warm. I reckon--" Larkin did not wait to learn what Yancey reckoned. He dashed toward the hangar, shouting orders as he ran. Major Cowan stepped from the hangar, barring the way. "Just a minute, Lieutenant! What is it you want?" "What do I want? I want a plane on the line--quick!" "No! Lieutenant McGee took off before we knew what it was all about. It is madness. You can't have--" He stopped speaking to listen. From high above, and a little to the east, came the throbbing sound of German motors that in a few more seconds would be over the airdrome. Indeed, they might be circling now, getting their bearing and making sure of location. At that moment one of the large motor mounted searchlights near the hangar began combing the sky. "Go tell those saps to cut that light!" Larkin shouted, hoping that the Major would be stampeded into action that would provide the slenderest chance for him to get the mechanics to roll a Spad to the line before Cowan could know what was happening. "Better cut it! If the others can't find 'em, this one can't. It will only serve as a path of light for one of those babies up there to slide down and leave you some presents you don't want." Major Cowan was not one to go legging it about on errands. Besides, searchlights were provided for just such uses. Then too, he rather suspected Larkin's motives, and Larkin realized this. "Please let me have one of those Spads, Major," he pleaded. "Can't you understand--McGee and I are buddies. With two of us up there we might turn 'em back." "No! It is too hazardous. This squadron is still in training. We are not trained as night flyers, and certainly are not prepared to give combat to a flight of bombers." Larkin's anger smashed through his long training. All rank faded from his mind.