"Dick Lever himself couldn't do better," remarked Bart, as he watched the graceful curves described by the aviator in his descent. "Good old Dick!" observed Billy. "I wonder where he is now." The aviator was evidently aiming for a large open space a little to the right and in advance of the moving column. Soon he had reached it and landed as lightly as a feather. "Wouldn't have broken a pane of glass if it had come down on it," observed Tom admiringly. "That fellow knows his business." The aviator climbed out of his machine and came over toward the column, which had just received the order for the ten minutes rest, which, according to regulations, came at the end of every hour of marching. He was encased in heavy clothing and his face was almost concealed by the fur-rimmed visor that he wore. "Something about that fellow that looks familiar," remarked Billy. "By the great horn spoon!" ejaculated Frank, "it's Dick Lever himself." "That's what," smiled the newcomer, as the boys surrounded him and, with a yell, fell upon him. There was no mistaking the warmth of the greeting, and Dick smiled with gratification as he extricated himself from their grasp and tried to shake hands with them all at once. "What good wind blew you this way?" queried Frank. "A mighty cold wind, as you fellows would admit if you were up there," laughed Dick. "You look pretty well fixed for it," commented Billy, as he took in Dick's voluminous trappings. "A polar bear has nothing on you." "I need every bit of it," answered Dick. "But where are you fellows bound for, and what are you doing with these birds?" he continued, glancing at the motley group of prisoners. "We're taking them into Coblenz to let our people give them the once over and the third degree," explained Frank. "They've been trying to stir up trouble in the American zone. Cunning little bunch, isn't it?" "I'm glad you've got your claws on them," Dick remarked, looking at the group with cold disfavor. "There's a whole lot more like them that ought to be rounded up. I tell you our people have been too easy with this breed of cattle and they're going to be sorry for it. We're so afraid of being harsh that we go to the other extreme. We stand up so straight that we fall over backward. The Germans don't understand anything but force, and unless we exert it they think we're afraid to." "Think we're too easy?" asked Bart. "You bet we are!" replied Dick. "We ought to treat them as the French do at Mayence and the British at Cologne. They know the people they're dealing with, and while they're just, they're stern. Anyone who tries to put anything over on them finds that he's monkeying with a buzz saw. Unless we wake up from our easy good-nature, we'll find ourselves with a lot of trouble on our hands." "You seem to be rather worked up about it," remarked Billy.