The victor in the spectacular fight was Captain Ball, the youthful English pilot who has only two notches less on the frame of his fighting machine than had the Falcon, who was credited with fifty-one “downs.” The story of the duel, which was declared to have been one of the most sensational events of the war, is told in a letter written by Col. William Macklin, of the Canadian troops, to a friend in Newark, N. J. Colonel Macklin, who was one of the eye-witnesses of the fight, writes in his letter, which is printed in the New York _Tribune_: One morning Captain Ball, who was behind our sector, heard that Immelman the Falcon was opposite. “This is the chance I’ve been waiting for; I’m going to get him,” declared Ball. Friends tried to dissuade him, saying the story of Immelman’s presence probably was untrue. Ball would not listen. Getting into his machine, he flew over the German lines and dropped a note which read: “Captain Immelman: I challenge you to a man-to-man fight, to take place this afternoon at two o’clock. I will meet you over the German lines. Have your anti-aircraft guns withhold their fire while we decide which is the better man. The British guns will be silent. “BALL.” About an hour afterward, a German aviator swung out across our lines. Immelman’s answer came. Translated it read: “Captain Ball: Your challenge is accepted. The German guns will not interfere. I will meet you promptly at two. “IMMELMAN.” Just a few minutes before two o’clock the guns on both sides ceased firing. It was as though the commanding officers had ordered a truce. Long rows of heads popped up and all eyes watched Ball from behind the British lines shoot off and into the air. A minute or two later Immelman’s machine was seen across No Man’s Land. The letter describes the tail of the German machine as painted red “to represent the British and French blood it had spilled,” while Ball’s had a streak of black paint to represent the mourning for his victims. The machines ascended in a wide circle, and then: From our trenches there were wild cheers for Ball. The Germans yelled just as vigorously for Immelman. The cheers from the trenches continued. The Germans’ increased in volume; ours changed into cries of alarm. Ball, thousands of feet above us and only a speck in the sky, was doing the craziest things imaginable. He was below Immelman and was, apparently, making no effort to get above him, thus gaining the advantage of position. Rather he was swinging around, this way and that, attempting, it seemed, to postpone the inevitable. We saw the German’s machine dip over preparatory to starting the nose dive. “He’s gone now,” sobbed a young soldier at my side, for he knew Immelman’s gun would start its raking fire once it was being driven straight down.