"Gee! If that fellow hadn't bumped in just at the right time, I think we both could have claimed the title of Ananias!" Billy was a poor hand as a dodger of truth, and much relieved to escape the witness stand in this instance. The kind of danger with which the boys best loved to toy was again speedily coming to them--the peril of aëroplaning. Schneider brought the order to report forthwith at the aërodrome. At the aërodrome an immense Zeppelin airship, as long as an ocean liner, had just been inflated. Roque was engaged in conversation with the captain of the great dirigible when Schneider and his young companions reached the grounds. The pilot of the huge craft and his assistants had already taken their places in the front gondola, the foremost end of which had been screened for their protection, and it was evident that sailing time was near. When the master mariner had exchanged a parting word with the secret agent he entered his room in the central cabin of the Zeppelin, which was in telephonic communication with the front and rear gondolas and other parts of the ship. In the meantime, Schneider had instructed the boys to give the No. 3's an inspection to see if the attendant helpers had properly prepared the machines for a long journey. The young aviators then surmised that they were to travel as convoys of the monarch of the air, which even then was majestically rising. Roque hastened to the machine in which Billy was already seated and waved a signal to the waiting Henri in the other biplane, containing also the redoubtable Schneider. The swift flyers easily overcame the slight lead of the big ship, though it was making 40 knots, and took up the guiding positions. The flight was directly away from Lorraine and historic Strassburg. "I wonder if our huckster friend is in the crowd back there?" was a mental question with Billy. It was many a day before the young air pilot had a chance to again meet Anglin. When this journey ended it was in territory remote from that of any former experience of the Aëroplane Scouts--a new battle landscape. It had snowed, and the drab, brown plain of Poland had turned to glistening white. The biplanes floated in a tarnished silver sky, which, pressing down, seemed hardly higher than a gray ceiling. The aviators landed on the clay bank of the winding yellow river, the Bzura, within 400 paces of the German trenches. Gun answered gun across the golden stream, shell on shell spattered into the soft earth, and rifles rattled unceasingly. Schneider sniffed the powder smoke like a seasoned warhorse. "It's the life!" he exclaimed. "And the death," added Roque. He knew that men lay bleeding and broken on the banks of this yellow streak in the white picture. "You're just right, boss," murmured Billy, nodding his hooded head, "the war map looks all red to me."