Then all at once the German planes were upon them. Where and how they came was a matter of indifference. The thing was to meet and fight, to out-maneuver them if possible. In another minute they were dodging, diving, eluding, darting among each other, inextricably intermingled, yet now, on the whole, rising higher. Just over to the right of Blaine one of the Boche fliers was already dropping to the earth. Blaine saw and noted the cause. It was Erwin, rising from a dexterous side-loop to higher elevation, yet peering over at his fallen foe. "Good boy," murmured the ensign. "He'll do! No use to worry about flying position now. It's fight or die!" What the Allies mainly cared about now was to dodge the enemy fliers, and still pour the remainder of their explosives down upon the mangled trenches until the Allied infantry should come up. By this time Stanley, back at his old post, was whirling round on his seat for more racks of bombs. He had already used his own machine gun with deadly effect. Blaine was reaching for another drum of ammunition for his Lewis when he saw Stanley lurch forward. He was hit. Not a word though; not even a struggle. "My Gawd, man!" called Blaine. "Are you hit bad? Slip down under cover!" No reply as the observer slowly sagged back and down into the manhole. Then a sudden rage filled the stalwart American. He loved Stanley, who he knew was game to the core. Just then a German machine sped by full tilt, sending spatters of bullets right and left. Instantly Blaine tried the tail-dip, always risky yet worth while if successful. Doubling under the tail of the passing Boches -- there were two of' them in the machine -- Blaine came up right under the German's propeller, his own gun in straight line for the center of the other's fuselage. As he came up he began a spatter of bullets that fairly riddled the body of the big Taube, and directly thereafter came a burst of flame so bright and searching that Blaine had to dip again, sidewise to avoid its scorching significance. The German's tank was exploding and in a mass of flames the two men fell, the skeleton of their machine about them as the whole dropped to the earth. Hardly had Blaine cleared this aerial ruin than came the commander's signal to retire. Somehow, after that, Lafe felt that in a measure he had a certain revenge from the Boches for poor Stanley's death; for Stanley was dead -- no doubt of that. At least so Blaine thought.