The Flight-Commander by this time was well away, and was careering round, climbing more rapidly than he had ever done before, and looking forward to the coming combat. He could see his own target, but, relying upon the small target that the Dwarf offered, he kept just sufficiently away to render his own machine invisible to the Huns, who were having the time of their lives. Dastral was in a fighting mood; he felt ready to fight all the Boche airmen in the world, if he could only get at them. Higher and higher he rose, and marked the little register as it clicked out the altitude:-- "Three thousand--four thousand feet." Its quiet voice was drowned in the roar of the engine and the whir-r-r of the propellers, but its face seemed to smile at the pilot and beckon him to victory. He had got well over towards the enemy's lines, in his circling sweep, for he was determined to keep well between the enemy and his base. Besides, it was good strategy, for the day was breaking and already, up there, he could see the rim of the sun showing over the edge of the eastern horizon. "I shall have the sun behind my back when the fight begins, and the Huns will have it in their eyes!" he told himself. At six thousand feet he banked and swept round towards the enemy, still climbing rapidly, for the Boches were at about seven thousand feet. Again and again he made the whizzing Dwarf almost to sit upon her tail, so eager was he to reach seven thousand five hundred. He felt perfectly happy, and braced for the conflict. His only anxiety was to get to business at once. "Five thousand--five thousand five hundred feet," said the little dial, and Dastral laughed riotously. "Seven thousand," came at last, though it seemed an age to the eager pilot. Glancing down and away to the west, he could see his comrades climbing up to his assistance, for he had left them far behind. The Boches had seen them too, and were diving to attack them, dropping bombs and firing incendiary bullets. "Capital!" shouted Dastral in high glee, as he saw the enemy make several rapid dives, giving him exactly what he wanted, the weather-gage. "The beasts haven't seen me, or they wouldn't do that!" Dastral told himself, and he was right, for the enemy had not even suspected his presence yet, or, if they had seen him leave the ground, they had lost sight of him, owing to the tactics he had adopted. They were soon to have a knowledge of his presence, however. "Now for it," said Dastral between his teeth, as, having reached seven thousand feet, he whizzed away to the attack of the nearest 'plane, one of the enemy's fighting scouts which had accompanied the huge warplane. "Whir-r-r-r!" went the hornet, as Dastral opened the engine throttle to the full. The speed of the hornet was terrific, and the sound of the wind rushing past him sounded to the pilot as loud as the noise of the engine. "One hundred and sixty!" laughed the speedometer.