Scarcely had the stars faded away, however, and disappeared in the morning light, when the little field telephone in the orderly officer's tent at the aerodrome near Contalmaison went "Ting-a-ling-ling!" "Are you there?" came the query over the wire. "Yes. Who is that?" "Advanced Headquarters, Section 47, East of Ginchy. Is that the Wing H.Q., Royal Flying Corps?" "Yes. What is the matter, that you ring a poor chap up for the twentieth time in half an hour?" "Matter enough, Grenfell, old fellow! Seven aeroplanes have just crossed our lines from the direction of Morval and Lesboeufs. They are flying in your direction, west by west-sou'-west. Can you hear me?" "Yes, yes, but I say, Ginchy. Hullo! Were they enemy 'planes?" "Our sentries couldn't make out their nationality; it was too dark. That's why the O.C. wanted me to 'phone you, lest it should be another raiding party coming to bomb you, as they did the other morning at dawn. He wants you to take '_Air Raid Action_' at once. Got me, old fellow?" "All right, Ginchy. We'll be ready for the blighters this time. S'long! Remember me to Crawford when you run across him." "Can't, old man." "How so?" "He got a packet in the knapper this morning, and he's already on his way to Blighty." "Lucky beggar! Good-bye!" "Goodbye." "Ting-a-ling-ling!" Thus the brief conversation closed, and within another thirty seconds the orders had been given for "Air raid action" and every one was ready. The men of "B" Flight, No. -- Squadron under Dastral, were standing by their machines, and the aerial gunners and observers were placing the last drums of ammunition in the cockpit, where they would be ready to hand. Almost immediately afterwards the sentries on duty at the eastern end of the aerodrome gave the alarm: "Aeroplanes approaching from the east!" Half a dozen pairs of glasses soon found the machines, and, for a moment, there was a little thrill of excitement, as the anti-aircraft gunners received their orders to load up and fix the range. "Stand by to start the propellors!" shouted Dastral, the Flight-Commander, to the air mechanics. "Are all the pilots ready?" came next. "Yes, sir," replied the Flight-Sergeant. In another moment the whole flight would have been in the air doing a rapid spiral, for the hum of the approaching aeroplane engines could be distinctly heard now. "Whir-r-r! whir-r-r-r!" Nearer and nearer came the well-known sound of the propellors, when suddenly the Squadron-Commander, who had been intently watching the early morning visitants through his glasses, called out: "Dismiss, 'B' Flight. It's only Graham's party returning from their reconnaissance." There was not a little disappointment at this announcement, for every one had been looking forward to a scrap before breakfast. The sun, which had just showed his upper edge above the ridge, however, revealed quite distinctly the rounded marks of the Allies on each of the 'planes.