"Could you be certain of returning to this village by eight o'clock in the morning?" he said eagerly, "for I am to meet General Joffre here at that hour. I hold an English pilot's certificate from the Hendon school." "_Embrassons nous!_ (let us embrace), my dear friend!" exclaimed Claude Laval. "I am now the happiest man in all France. Listen! The machine is at the edge of the wood not a kilometre from this spot, and the Zeppelin hangar is in the centre of the Black Forest. Come, let us eat something and drink a bottle of the good red wine. We will give the Boche a fine surprise, and I swear to bring you back in plenty of time for Father Joffre in the morning. Martique, remember, not a word to a living soul, and come you to the cafe with us; you can attend to that sewing-machine of yours after monsieur and I have gone on our little trip." They dined in the open air, and the meal was a joyous one, Lieutenant Claude Laval keeping a keen eye on the sinking sun at the same time. * * * * * As the red rim dipped into the jagged line of dark poplars on a low ridge to westward Laval called for the bill, lit his pipe, and rose with an air of supreme indifference for the benefit of the groups of other officers at the adjoining tables, but his eyes spoke to Dennis as they walked away into the shadow of the trees. "Now, lieutenant," he said, with a fierce thrill of exultation in his voice, "you know, of course, that old scoundrel, Count Zeppelin, stole the idea of his invention during the war of '70. We will see if we can't get a little of our own back to-night!" [Illustration: "Dennis flung his bombs into the space, and tremendous explosions ensued"] CHAPTER XI A Daring Dash As they left the village the two companions, who seemed quite old friends already, quickened their pace to a run. "My observer is in there," said the French _pilote aviateur_, pointing to an isolated cottage as they passed it. "It would be cruel to tell him that I have already found a fresh comrade. The good news shall keep until we return. And now, _cher ami_, we have no time to lose, as we have only something like four hours of darkness before us, and we must be well on the way back when daylight breaks." "How far is it to the Zeppelin den?" inquired Dennis, as they turned aside through a cornfield. "About two hundred kilometres," replied the pilot. "A trifle more than a hundred of your English miles. _Voila_, there she lies--a brand-new Aviatik, and that is my machine over there." "How did you succeed in bringing the German down without injury?" asked Dennis, as they reached the biplane, which loomed large and weird in the twilight.