Here was an opportunity made to order, and just as McGee was preparing to give the signal, he saw Yancey cut out and dive toward an observation balloon that was being rapidly drawn down by excited winchmen. No use to try to signal Yancey; that wild Texan was off on his joy-ride. Archies and machine gun fire tried vainly to stop Yancey's wild dive. Flaming onions began surging upward in their terrifying circlets, but Yancey was as scornful of them as is a Texas steer of a buzzing deer fly. His guns rattled in a short burst and the balloon exploded with a terrific blast of flame and smoke. Yancey's plane rocked perilously. His inexperience in "busting balloons" had come near being his own undoing. But he righted his plane, somehow escaped the hail of shot and steel all around him and came plunging back down the road filled with fear-stricken men and plunging horses, his guns rattling joyously. McGee, followed by Siddons, Porter and Fouche, swooped along the road from the opposite direction, scattering the troops like chaff. With death raining down on them from opposite but converging points, the German infantrymen broke wildly for cover. Their less fortunate comrades, the cannoneers and drivers of caissons and supply wagons, stuck to their posts, trying to calm the rearing, plunging horses and cursing the inexorable wasps that sent stinging death down on them. Yancey, in particular, seemed to be in his glory. Half a dozen times he swung around, gained a little altitude, and again went plowing down along the road, his guns jumping and smoking in fiendish delight. Harass the advancing enemy, eh? And the line of supplies? A job exactly suited to Yancey's heart and spirit. But McGee was wise in such matters, and having delivered a blow drew off and sought other fields to conquer. It was not wise to stay long in any one place. He had expected Yancey to follow, but that worthy was too delighted with his find, and when he tired of it at last it was to discover that he was very much alone. Nothing could have suited him better. Now he was answerable only to himself--and to Luck! He began climbing, and casting an eye over the sky for balloons within striking distance. After all, strafing infantrymen wasn't half as much fun as knocking down balloons. They went up with such a glorious bang! And it was delicious to watch the frightened observer tumble over the side of the basket in an effort to escape by parachute. That last one had somehow gotten fouled in the rigging and had been clawing frantically when the bag exploded. As for that, Yancey had been sorry; not for the man, but because he had wanted to see the parachute _poof-op!_ into a suddenly blown white flower at which he might take a few shots by way of testing his aim. Well, maybe he'd have better luck with the next one.