"See that American flag?" shouted Ralph.

"That's the place for us," replied Alfred.

Accordingly, they lost no time in making for the hangar on which the emblem appeared. They saw a Farman machine partly outside of the hangar, and in the body of it was seated a ruddy-faced chap.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Came over to help you out," said Alfred.

He looked down, and slowly said: "You did, eh?"

"Well, we've seen a little active service at the front, so far,"

explained Ralph, "been in battle several times, have been captured by the Germans, helped to build trenches, worked with the Red Cross people, and had a few flights in an airplane, and as we like aviation business best of all, we thought we'd come over and go to work."

The airman raised himself, sat down on the side of the car body, and commenced to laugh, although Ralph's remark was said without the least tinge of pride or boasting. Several from the adjoining hangars came in to learn the cause of the boisterous mirth.

"Well, that's fresh enough to come from real American boys," he said, after he had sobered down a little.

"That's right; we're from the United States; we came here because we saw the flag on the outside; what shall we do the first thing?" said Alfred.

"From America?" said the man, climbing down from the machine. "And you are regular Yankees? Well, well; that's too good! I'm something of an American myself. By jingo, you're the kind of fellows to have around.

Want a job? Where did you get your uniforms? They look all right."

"Oh, these are Belgian uniforms. We were with them, you know, and had a pretty hot time, too," said Ralph.

This information, as they now knew, was the best credential possible, and they were soon the center of an admiring crowd. Somehow the determined matter of fact and positive way which the boys adopted had the effect of winning their way, and it was thus that they had the satisfaction of entering a service which it is a most difficult thing to do even with the best credentials.

The happiness of the boys was complete when their new friend told them to get up on the machine, and help him to take out the engine. Coats came off in a hurry, and they looked around for some subst.i.tute to protect their clothing.

Their friend supplied the necessary articles at once remarking as he did so that he ought to know their names.

After this information was supplied, he remarked: "My name is Martin; Bill Martin, Fifth Aviation Corps; don't forget the Corps or you may have trouble in getting into the grounds; and, by the way, how did you happen to get through?"

"If you mean the gates, why, we just walked right through," said Alfred.

"Just as though you had a right to do so!" said Martin, as he again commenced to laugh. "You said you were up in an airplane; where was that?"

"Up at Dunkirk, and back of the firing line, south of the St. Quentin,"

said Ralph.

"Do you know Tom Watkins?" asked Alfred.

"Do I know Tom? Why, we came over together; poor fellow, he got a bad fall," said Martin.

"We heard about it and saw him at the hospital today," said Alfred.

"You don't say? So you've been flying with Tom? I'm glad to know that,"

said Martin, as he nodded his head approvingly.

CHAPTER VII

BOUND FOR VERDUN

For three days more the boys wandered about Paris,--three days of the most fearful suspense; and then began the battle of the Marne. Every airplane in and about Paris was at the front, on the line somewhere, and the boys were deprived of the opportunity to see the new friend they had made at the Bois de Boulogne station.

They were so sure of being able to go to Verdun that Albert wrote to his father of their plans, in the hope that he would consider it wise to leave Switzerland for that point, where they might meet.

The Germans had been defeated; Paris was safe, the French line having held firmly all the way to Verdun. The determination to go there was firmly fixed in their minds, but they could see no way to accomplish the purpose. A visit to Tom at the hospital only resulted in their being told that the lieutenant was in the field, no one knew where.

"I have an idea," said Ralph, as they emerged from their room one morning.

"What is it?" asked Alfred.

"We might get attached to the Red Cross some way, and that would be sure to take us to the front," replied Ralph.

"That would be just as hard as to get in with the flying people,"

answered Alfred.

"That may be so, too, but I can't see any other way."

They again called at the Continental Hotel in the hope that there might be some further news. To their surprise they found a letter from Alfred's father with a check for their personal expenses. While reading the letter they overheard a conversation which gave them the solution, as they thought, of their difficulties.

"No," said a voice, "they will not ticket us to any point near the firing line, but we might go to St. Dizier, and from there work our way north."

"Good idea; let's book at once," said the second voice.

"Come on," said Alfred. "That's the right tip. Let's find out where St.

Dizier is."

The clerk informed them: "It is about a hundred and sixty miles east of Paris."

"Then it can't be far from Verdun," remarked Alfred.

"Sixty miles southwest, I should judge," was the answer.

"Do you think we would have any trouble in reaching that point?" asked Ralph.

"I think the trains are still running, but they may not adhere to the regular schedule. The line runs south of the war zone, you know," said the clerk.

That settled it. They hurried to the Banque Francaise, and having secured currency for the check, started for the booking office as fast as they could walk. It was impossible at this time to get a conveyance as only the underground railways and a few tram cars were in service, the government having requisitioned all the horses, and automobiles a week previous to this time.

They booked second cla.s.s, the official stating that the tickets were sold at the risk of the holders, and that they would have to take their chances on the trains, so they were at the eastern railway station before one o'clock, in the hope that the regular through train at two that day would be able to accommodate them. In this they were disappointed, so they waited about until five o'clock, and had the good fortune to have the tickets accepted by the gateman.

They pa.s.sed through an immense crowd of newly arrived soldiers, and were jostled about by hosts of men, women and children who were departing for the southeast, most of them bound for Chaumont. Within an hour they finally found a train bound for their destination, but it was another hour before the train began to move.