"Where am I? Who called me?" But while he wondered, his hand touched something, and he shrank back startled. It was Jock's poor wounded and bruised body that he had touched. Then he remembered it all. The flight over the German lines; the attack which had been made upon them by a whole German squadron; the fierce fight and the dash back, followed by a cloud of Fokkers and Aviatiks. Then the crash----. Yes he remembered it all now, and Jock, poor Jock must be dead, for he had not moved, and they must have been there for hours, days perhaps--at least, it seemed so, for it was dark as night, and it was morning when they crashed. Then again he heard that welcome sound, a human voice, and it called him by name. "Dastral! Lieutenant Dastral, where are you?" And he feebly answered with all his strength. "Here! Here! For heaven's sake help us!" The next instant two burly forms came stumbling and rolling down the crater, for Cowdie and Brat had just arrived at the spot, and as yet scarcely an hour had elapsed since the crash. Strong arms were put around the pilot, which raised him up, for he had fallen down again, after his effort to rise. He had just time to murmur something, and point to the unconscious form of his observer, when he relapsed into unconsciousness again. "Thank God we have found you both, sir!" exclaimed a strong voice, which seemed to resound again and again through his being. As the thick fog came on, the firing had been suspended for a moment. It was a strange, weird silence that seemed to presage a coming storm. Cowdie was the first to read its meaning. "Quick, Brat!" he cried. "They're going to attack. We must make a dash for it." It was only too true. Scarcely had they reached the top of the crater, and proceeded a dozen yards with their heavy burdens, when they heard the sound of voices. "Hist! What was that?" They paused for a moment, and waited, but it seemed to them that their panting and the loud thumping of their hearts would betray them. How far had they to go yet? they asked each other. Then, with a shudder, Cowdie turned and began to retrace his steps, whispering to his comrade: "We have come the wrong way. Those are the German trenches over there, and look, they are forming up over the top ready to attack." "Good heavens! Then we are lost," replied his comrade. "No, we may yet be in time. Come along. It cannot be far." With his keen blue eyes Cowdie peered through the gloom, for Cowdie, the "spare part," had been the first to make the discovery. He had seen the shadowy forms of the Germans not twenty yards away. Fortunately, they had not been observed as yet, but they were not out of danger. They had regained their right direction, however. The British trenches were not more than seventy yards away.