From the time they left Belgian territory it had been their wish to join the aviation corps, and this wish was gratified after they had left Paris and made their way to the eastern part of France. The corps to which they belonged was stationed at Verdun, the most vigorous outpost of the fighting line. There they were constantly engaged during a full year of most intrepid warfare. They owed their success in joining the corps as actual combatants to a peculiar incident. Before reaching the Verdun camp they had met Lieutenant Guyon, attached to the station at Bar-le-Duc, and with him they made numerous flights, especially in the work of testing machines. On one occasion the lieutenant, who was the victim of a weak heart, was attacked with the disease while aloft, and the boys piloted the machine to earth in safety, notwithstanding the excitement caused by the sudden pitching of the machine. It was sufficient to show that the boys were made of the right stuff, and the officer appreciated their bravery. Thereafter, the boys were his constant companions, flying with him on many occasions and engaging with him in some of the most brilliant encounters in the air with German aviators. The time came, however, when, after fighting three of the swiftest and most notable German aeroplanes, both of the boys were wounded. In the effort of the lieutenant to bring the badly crippled machine to earth, it was impossible to prevent the catastrophe which followed. The lieutenant and one of the boys were thrown from the machine, and the officer died from the effect of internal injuries within a week. The wounds of the boys were severe, and they were held at the base hospital for weeks before their condition was such as to permit them to be sent to the Paris Hospital. At the time of the foregoing conversation they had been convalescing for a month. The death of their friend was a terrible blow to them, so severe that, as indicated by their conversation, they did not feel like participating in any more airship work. "I suppose we shall always have a feeling that there is nothing like flying," said Ralph, as he mused over their experiences that evening. "It is all right, and I hope to do a great deal of flying after the war is over, but I suppose we might as well make up our minds to give it up for good at this time," replied Alfred. It was really a relief that the final decision had come, for the feeling of reverence was so strong for their dead friend that it seemed as though something would be wrong to go up in an airship without him. "When shall we start?" said Ralph the next morning. "As soon as they give us the discharge," replied Alfred. "You know no one is permitted to leave the hospital until the doctor gives his certificate."