There were a few more not-for-publication remarks on the usefulness of "Jimmy's lot," and the effectiveness of the plans for "keeping tab" on the German 'drome, and Pilot and Observer turned to climb to their places. "All things considered," said the Observer, "I'm dashed if I'd fancy those Huns' job these times. We give 'em rather a harrying one way and another. Must be wearin' to the nerves." The Pilot grunted. "What about ours?" he said. The Observer laughed. "Ours," he said, and, as the joke sank in, laughed again more loudly, and climbed to his place still chuckling. For the next ten minutes the air vibrated to the booming roar of the engines as they ran up, were found in good order, and eased off. The dusk was creeping across the sky and blurring the trees beyond the aerodrome, and overhead the moon was growing a deeper and clearer yellow. The Squadron Commander walked along the line and spoke a few words to the different Pilots sitting ready and waiting. He walked back to the Leader's machine and nodded his head. "All ready," he shouted; "just on time. Push off soon as you like now--and good luck." The quiet "ticking over" of the propeller speeded up and up until the blades dissolved into quivering rays of faint light; the throaty hum deepened, grew louder and louder, stayed a moment on the fullest note, sank again, and as the Pilot signalled and the chocks were jerked clear rose roaring again, while the machine rolled lumbering and lurching heavily out into the open, its navigation lights jerking and jumping as it merged into the darkness. The lights swung in a wide curve, slowed and steadied, began to move off at increasing speed to where a pin-point of light on the ground gave the pilot a course to steer, lifted smoothly and on a long slant, and went climbing off into the dark. The moonlight was clear and strong enough for men on the ground to see all sorts of details of the machines still waiting, the mechanics about them, the hangars and huts round the 'drome. But no more than seconds after it had left the ground the rising machine was gone from sight, could only be followed when and as its lights gleamed back. Once it swept droning overhead, and then circled out and boomed off straight for the lines. Pilot and Observer were both long-trained and skilled night-fliers. They crossed the line at the selected point and at a good height, looking down on the quivering patchwork ribbon of light and shadow that showed the No Man's Land and the tossing flare lights from the trenches, the spurting flashes of shell-bursts, the jumping pin-prick lights from the rifles. The engine roar drowned all sound, until suddenly a yowl and a rending _ar-r-r-gh_ close astern told them that Archie was after them. Faintly they heard too the quick _wisp-wisp_ of passing machine-gun or rifle bullets, the sharp crack of one or two close ones, and then silence again except for the steady roar of the engine and the wind by their ears.