There seemed to be no French birdmen around and the German was evidently taking advantage of this. He was coming on straight over the hospital and lessening his height every second. In thirty seconds he had come down to half the distance from the earth and began to sweep about in a circle, or like a gigantic figure eight, much as a great, bloodthirsty hawk does when scanning the earth below for its prey. Suddenly, from beneath the airplane the watchers saw something long and gray which seemed to poise a moment under the airplane, then drop and gain momentum every fraction of a second, and fall like a plummet straight for the hospital tent. The watchers, all experienced, knew well what it was, but any cry of warning was lost in the explosion that followed not a hundred feet beyond the tent. “The dirty spalpeen!” Don heard Tim shout. “Come down here wanst an’ thin do it! Gin’ral,”--Tim insisted upon calling Don that--“he’ll make surer the next time! Come, there’s wor-rk inside!” There was. Don caught a glimpse of two _ambulanciers_ diving under their cars, of another running somewhere else, evidently for shelter. The boy’s ears welcomed the sharp crack, crack of field pieces and he knew the anti-aircraft were demonstrating their readiness. He got one more glimpse of the Hun plane over the roof of the tent and saw another gray thing descending. Then he was inside. When Don had looked in not two hours before he noted that at least three-fourths of the cots were occupied, the convalescents walking slowly about, or seated in little groups, talking; the nurses were busily engaged. The sad sounds pervading the place were horribly depressing to him. He could not long endure the labored breathing of those who were passing over the Great Divide, the persistent coughing of the severely gassed, the sight of shell-shocked men, who, without a scratch, cowered and stared about like crazy people, the moaning of those who suffered and the smell of anesthetics. But now all was changed. The scene was beyond description. Don was awake to his duty and eager for it. There must be strong wills and hands to aid and reassure these helpless fellows. The doctors and nurses, frightened but heroic, could not do it all.