During the following days, as the line pushed up through Champigneulle, St. Georges, Alliepont and on to Verpel, the two wild men, for the greater part, went it alone. Major Mack heard Mudd’s bleat often, but the major was too busy to bother himself with such minor distractions. This war was what men like Mack had lived a life for. Mudd could not be expected to sec this; and Mack made no effort toward proselyting F.F.V’s conversion to the cause of Langdon, Samter--and, if the truth must be known, Mack. * * * * * The Major was on the wing a great deal during those busy days. With his own eyes, he saw Langdon knock an enemy craft out of the skies behind Buzancy, and follow a second out of sight toward Stonne and the Meuse. “Yes, sir,” Major Mack told Mudd upon his return to the ’drome. “That heller of a Langdon went down on a Fokker. And when the Hun fell into a spin, after Langdon’s first burst, the kid sideslipped right with him and Samter poured his load from the rear gun. They had the poor devil burning through the last two thousand feet. The second plane they picked on was doing observations near Harricourt.” “But it’s not consistent, sir!” Lieutenant Mudd insisted. “But hell, Lieutenant,” Mack said, “it is strictly American, you know. And when we take this out of the Yank youth, we’re eternally lost.” So Major Mack continued to make allowances for one of his planes which had no more right in an observation outfit, than has a free balloon in a pursuit squadron. On the third of November Langdon got a German ship which was busily strafing roads near Authe; and on the fourth he accounted for a like worker near Oches. “The damn’ gorillas--strafing our troops!” he said to Samter, as they regassed their ship at ten o’clock that morning. Then, reserviced, the two went directly into the air and strafed roads as far back as La Neuville and Raucourt. In his own way, Mudd was making history through the long hours of those crowded days. Time and again, even with his overhead defense shot to pieces, he made requested observations along the Meuse. He located ambushes near La Bessage and Le Vivier and dropped warning notes to the infantry. On a hill above a graveyard in Raucourt, there was a machine gun and anti-aircraft nest. Mudd wiped it out. Twice in four days he brought dead observers home in his rear pit. And on one of those trips he had landed his burning plane on the long hillside slope before Champigneulle. “But why the hell doesn’t he stay and fight?” Samter argued. “Every slug hole in his linen is frayed to the front. Dead observers are of no use to anybody. They’re not worth a dollar a thousand ... Langdon, if I ever see a slug coming into the rear of your crate, I’ll spray you with my own gun just to teach you a lesson.” “And I’ll pile you up surer’n hell if you do!” Langdon promised.