“They’re going to take a look in the brush for the wounded Taube man,” he told himself. “For one I hope they don’t run across him. Without his chart he isn’t so very dangerous. I reckon the colonel is afraid he may be able to draw a duplicate of the same from memory. A soldier takes as few chances as he can of letting the other side get valuable information. Yes, the colonel is right, I suppose.” “The only favor we could ask would be in the line of making inquiries about the one we’re looking for,” Jack was saying. “What name did you tell me he was going under?” asked the soldier. “I failed to pay much attention to that in the paper, for my eye had meanwhile caught the signature below, which almost took my breath away.” “My friend’s mother was named Bradford, and he chances to know his brother was calling himself Frank Bradford, for reasons of his own.” Jack had hardly spoken when he saw a look of sudden eagerness flash over the rosy face of the Englishman. It gave him a thrill, for he seemed to feel that it spelled new hope. Even Amos noticed that lighting up of the colonel’s eyes, and the uplifting of the heavy eyebrows. “My word! now, that is a remarkable thing!” they heard him say, half to himself. “Are we to understand from that, sir, you can give us a clue that may carry us to him whom we are so anxious to find?” demanded Jack, boldly, believing it wise to strike while the iron was hot. “I wonder if it could be the same party?” the officer went on to say. “I was informed his name was Frank Bradford and that he owned up to being an American. My word! but this is remarkable. Tell me, did your brother ever serve his time as an air-pilot, young fellow?” turning to Amos. “Not before he left home,” returned the boy; “but he was always intensely interested in aeronautics. If a chance ever came up, I’m sure he would have made a mighty good birdman.” “If this is the same Frank Bradford,” muttered the soldier, shaking his head, “he has already jumped into the front rank of British aviators. They censored his name in the newspaper accounts, but I chanced to hear it from one who had met him on the field. It was after he made that wonderfully daring trip of seventy miles up the Rhine country, dropping bombs on many fortresses by the way, and striking a note of fear into countless thousands of German hearts.” “Oh, I read that story myself, and was thrilled with it,” cried Amos, excitedly. “Little did I dream it could have been my own brother Frank who was the reckless aviator of the Allies. Wait, I have his picture here with me, taken some years ago; perhaps your friend may have described this man to you so that you could recognize him.”