"Land me, boy--have you the red blood to do it? Have you the courage, lad? You have, I know. Do it, lad--do it now!" With his incoherent address, the big observer spasmodically clutched the shoulders of the young pilot. Carried away by the vehement pleading of the man behind him, Henri set the planes for a straight fall. Schneider bounded from the skimming machine, made it the work of a few seconds to reach the flag, which the dead man had wrapped around his body, and as quickly returned. The powerful motors drove the biplane up and across the field, with the colors trailing over the shoulders of the observer, who, in his excitement, sang a mighty war song. This deed of daring, directly in view of the trenches, and under the very eye of the German commander and staff, raised a tremendous cheer. Of all this Schneider seemed oblivious. His was a blind patriotism. Roque wore a look of mild reproach when he encountered Henri behind the lines that night, but he could not resist the prompting of forgiving admiration when Schneider stood before him in attitude of apology. "Had no orders, of course, boss, but something stuck to my crazybone, and everything went." "You will have something stuck on the breast of your coat, or I am very much mistaken," said Roque, extending his hand, which Schneider grasped with fervor. That "something" was to be the Iron Cross, the famous decoration for valorous service, and the most coveted distinction in the German empire, a badge of courage woven into its military history. "Were this boy a soldier of and for the Fatherland," solemnly continued Roque, "the royal gift might well be bestowed upon him." Schneider threw an arm around the shoulders of the young aviator. "Of nothing else is he lacking to claim the honor," feelingly maintained the big fellow, and his eyes were moist as he spoke. Henri shook his head. Then with a roguish glance at his chum, he said: "The only medal I am hankering after is the one Billy and I are expecting for making the first aëroplane flight across the Atlantic." "Have the 'made in Germany' mark on your machine and I believe you can establish the record," laughed Roque. "Not on your life," exclaimed Billy. "We are going to build the crossing craft ourselves." The No. 3's were lying idle behind the lines. Roque had ceased overground work for the time being, and like a mole was engaged in some undermining scheme, of which the boys had no inkling. Resorting to his remarkable aptitude as a lightning change artist, and also applying the magic touch to Schneider, the pair of them were scarcely recognizable to even the lads with whom they had been so long and so closely associated.