"We--that is, my comrade--crippled a Taube, sir." "Crippled a Taube? What, pray, has a dispatch-rider to do with Taubes?" demanded Commandante Fleurus sternly. "Do you know that it is your duty to deliver messages at all costs, and in the least possible time, regardless of Taubes, Zeppelins, and the German Emperor himself?" Kenneth did not reply. The fiery nature of the little Belgian literally consumed him. He had, however, the good sense to see that the rebuke was merited. "Well, sir, what have you to say?" "It was an error of judgment, sir, which I regret," said Kenneth. "We crippled the Taube as it was on the point of rising. Otherwise----" "Were there no troops available?" "Some lancers arrived while the Taube was burning." The commandant turned and took hold of a telephone that stood on the table at his side. "Send Captain Planchenoît to me," he ordered; then, leaning back in his chair, he again fixed the British lad with his beady eyes. It was quite two minutes before the captain appeared, and the time seemed like two hours to the crestfallen Kenneth. He had yet to learn the lesson that cast-iron discipline demands, and it seemed galling that his part in crippling one of the aerial spies should be practically ignored by the man who ought to have gone into ecstasies over the news. Presently Captain Planchenoît entered, clicked his heels and saluted, then waited his superior officer's pleasure. The captain was a smart-looking man of more than average height, with a pleasant, open countenance. He was on the intelligence staff, attached to the brigade that had been hurriedly brought up from Diest. "Any information respecting the destruction of one of the enemy's aeroplanes?" demanded the commandant. "Yes, mon commandant. It descended near the village of Jupille. Before our lancers could approach it took fire. Our men found both pilot and observer wounded and brought them back. The captain of the troop reported that the Taube was set on fire by the pistol-shots of two dispatch-riders." "At any risk to themselves?" "I know not, sir." "At any risk?" repeated Commandant Fleurus, shifting his glance from Captain Planchenoît to Kenneth. In reply the lad removed his Belgian military cap and pointed to the double hole made by the German observer's bullet. To Kenneth's surprise the commandant leant back in his chair and gave vent to a hearty laugh. Then he stood up and grasped the hand of the astonished youth. "Go, bring in your compatriot," he exclaimed. "What's the game, old man?" asked Rollo, who was cooling his heels in the corridor. "Goodness knows! I can't make the little commandant out. He's an enigma. I've had a gruelling. Come along." Kenneth jerked out his sentences awkwardly, then, catching hold of his chum's arm, led him into the commandant's presence. "Captain Planchenoît," said the latter, after returning Rollo's salute. "You applied for two additional dispatch-riders, I believe?"