Cael, tall and pale, unsteady of step but cool, Dismounts to reaching hands. Eyes of the hawk are dim. Helmet all wet with blood, fur coat all spotted red, Fall into willing hands, showing raw angry wounds To angry eyes that see how balls explosive, rend. And riddled plane reveals how near death spoke and fast. Now Cael, in gentle hands, speaks slow to eager ears; Tells of the cloudy fray that only gods could see; How three, attacking three, put them at once to flight, Till four more by surprise, made odds with the Huns. Then, swift as hornet darts, fire-spitting eagles fought; Wheeling high and sweeping low, hailed lead on foe. “Quick as the light” Le Claire, ere seconds passed, had two, Falling like shrieking crows to death, three miles below. Parcontal, nearly caught, feigning right, wheeled to left; And so met another foe on him descending. His gun spoke balls of fire, flashing true to the mark. One more Hun fell in flames, leaving but smoke. Three were down, four remained; Cael was apart with three, Met and surrounded at each swoop and turn. Le Claire and Parcontal came now like vengeance sent; All but too late for Cael; riddled and wounded sore, he left the fight. The tall, gaunt, frame relaxed, Eagle eyes saw no more. His comrades breathed a curse. “Vengeance for Cael.” Than that, more is known from the survivor, One Hun a prisoner in France descended. How for great distance combat continued Till the last Frenchman fell, vanquished victorious. Vengeance for comrades dead, dearly the Huns shall pay! Mead to the victors gone to drink in Valhalla. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dinsmore Ely, by Dinsmore Ely