Every one of them knew that their little group was breaking up and perhaps forever. They had shared joy and sorrow. A brother, two sisters, a life-long friend, a new-found pal from across the sea and two little waifs from the slums of London, they silently shook hands in the dark, then whispered, “Goodbye-Goodbye! Goodbye! And lots of good luck!” On the way back on the train Alice whispered to Dave, “I wish Cherry hadn’t gone.” “Why?” Dave stared. “I don’t know. I just wish it, that’s all.” And so, through the blackout, the little English train carried them back to London. Next day Alice returned to her improvised buttery and her churn. But the song that so often had enlivened her task as the dasher went up and down was silenced. For Dave the joy of flying increased with every morn. To climb up from the earth, to greet the dawn, to lose himself in the clouds, ah! that was joy beyond compare. “If it only weren’t war,” he whispered to himself. And yet war did give it an added tang. It was like the nipping frost in the air that greets the ice-skater or the singing of the sled runners that delights the ears of the dog-team racer. He did look forward to the day when the young Lord’s penalty should be paid and the four of them would again be in the air. The day came and they thundered away with the break of day. On this day, however, Heinie apparently was content to stay at home. Not a speck marred the blue of that little patch of the sky over England they claimed as their own. “We’ll meet them again,” the young Lord’s tone was confident, as at last they returned to earth. “Wolves, weasels, skunks, and all kinds of varmints visit the same little corner of the earth time after time. So do the Jerries. That big boaster, Wick, will return. And then!” It was clear that he had not forgotten the loss of his most beloved flying mate, Fiddlin’ Johnny. “I wonder,” Dave said thoughtfully. “Does Wick always fly his men in that V-shaped formation?” “Always, I am told,” was the answer. “He assumes that we want to get at him and that we’ll go for the man protecting his tail,” Dave said thoughtfully. “That gives his other men a chance to close in and clean us up. Supposing we fooled him by taking off his three men on the other line, one at a time?” “It’s an idea,” the young Lord replied. “Perhaps we’ll try it. Yes, I think we shall—when the time comes. And it will come, never fear!” “Alice must be lonesome with Cherry and the children gone,” Dave suggested to Brand that evening. “Let’s go over.” “I can’t tonight,” was Brand’s reply. “The Lark is giving me a lesson on handling a Brownie. You can’t learn too much, you know, not in this man’s war.” “Nor half enough,” Dave agreed. Mounting Brand’s bicycle, Dave rode over the pleasing country roads to Ramsey Farm. Night was just falling. There was a glorious freshness about the night air. The war seemed far away. “As if it couldn’t touch any of us,” he thought. How wrong he could be at times.