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"Hangar by the great Bull-frogs!" said Benny to himself. "And-gasolene!"

need power to drop and go forward too, and power now he had none. His engine died, and as "The Lunatic" nosed gently down in her best gliding angle, the propeller merely turned over slowly with the rush through the air.

It was getting dusk, but Benny's eyes were keen. He knew-all airmen have the country over which they have come in a picture in their minds just where he must land. That open field three miles behind was the only chance. The rest was all forest and stubble. He had plenty of time to reach the field could, indeed, have traveled several miles farther, merely gliding down, down, down.

But this was best; and, after all, what difference did it make whether he was thirty or thirty-five miles in Hunland! Benny felt in his pocket,-yes, the matches were there, the matches with which he would kindle "The Lunatic" that she should never fly against the Allied flags. He was supposed to touch the flame to the gasolene-tank stop-cock in the event of a forced landing-"But I 've no gas!" chuckled Benny, the irresponsible.

To land "The Lunatic" was no light task-luckily, the field was not rough, and Benny congratulated himself. He came down without noise, of course, the engine being very dead. And from habit, And from habit, not from plan, Benny whirled her around, after she had felt the ground, so he faced down the field-"ready to go if I have to -rot! I can't go up," said Benny as, unbuckling his belt, he climbed stiffly down.

He took out his box of matches, extracted one, lit it-and stamped it out.

"There was n't a soul saw me land. Why be in a hurry? Maybe some one has left me a can of gasolene!" mused Benny. He could n't bear to set fire to his plane his well-loved "Lunatic," which no one else could manage.

"I think I'll take a look around," said Benny-then opened his mouth and let it stay open. For as he skirted a corner of the woods, not fifty feet from his plane, he came upon a building-well hidden under branches and with telltale marks on the ground in front of it.

Benny flattened himself behind a tree. There was no sign of life, no grey-blue figures about. But Benny knew it could not be an open hangar with wheel-marks in front of it and be tenantless.

"Bet it 's the home of the three-crossed plane-no wonder we could n't find it! Accounts for the clearing, too. But why no men? Why-ah!”

Two figures lounged out of the building. They were German soldiers, and Benny's heart beat fast. If there were

no more-how to find out. But his thoughts were clear enough. "I can't find out. If there are more, I can't do it. If there are but the two, maybe I can get away with it. But if I don't try because there may be more, I'll be captured any

way. And then I can't fire "The Lunatic." And if this is Three Crosses' home, he 'll be here soon, and it's a two-seater—”

Benny waited no more. He watched the two men, one standing, idly smoking, the other sitting, legs crossed. Automatic in hand, Benny gave one spring and, in a swift run, was on the men before they knew it. The one standing, Benny struck-struck hard with the heavy automatic. He gave one little choked cry and fell. The other man jumped to his feet, but his hands were over his head as scared eyes looked into the blue barrel. And Benny's heart sang, for there was no look around, no attempt to yell-there were no others! Evidently the three-crossed plane had a short-handed home.

"Gas!" said Benny, distinctly. The man addressed shook his head, evidently not understanding.

"Petrol," said Benny.

Another shake of the head.

Benny took his eyes off the man long enough to note the gasolene-pump and the cans. Then he pointed. The man turned his head and nodded.

"Fill it up," said Benny, grinning. And if the soldier did n't understand the words, he did the very vigorous gestures. With hope in his heart and a smile on his lips, Benny disarmed his captive and drove

him to the task. Three five-gallon cans he made him fill with the precious gasolene, carry to the waiting "Lunatic," and put into the gas-tank. Then he walked him. to the front of "The Lunatic."

With the automatic pressed against the man's head, he pulled down one of his up-in-the-air hands and laid it on the propeller.

"When I say 'contact,' you pull!" snapped Benny. Of course, the German did n't understand the words, but he knew well enough what Benny wanted. Then-and this was the ticklish part of it-Benny climbed into "The Lunatic," gun in one hand, his eyes fastened on the frightened soldier's face. Never had he Never had he climbed in faster or looked harder, in gathering darkness. Not waiting to strap himself, Benny called: "Contact! Swing her over, you, or you 're very dead-"

The soldier swung her over. Once twice-three times-would the motor never catch? Would they get him-a shot behind him told of a revived soldier. Another-another-a yell-ah! Smothered in the roar of his motor, further shots, if there were any, Benny did not hear. "The Lunatic" sprang forwardno time, this, to wait and warm the motor up-no time, this, to see if all were well, if controls worked properly, if-"Ouch!" cried Benny, as "The Lunatic" left the ground. Something stung his shoulderthen warmth and wetness told him one shot had gone home.

"By-by!" he called back, delightedly, Over his shoulder-the injured one. "Good shooting-but not good enough!"

THAT 's really all the story. It would make it, perhaps, a "rattling good one" to tell that the three-crossed two-seater landed as Benny went up, that Benny shot it to pieces as he went, and that he was made an ace and given a war-cross and a promotion as a result. But it would n't be so. And Benny had n't any special regrets that it was n't so. For he had walked in the Valley of a Shadow worse than death; and had come out into the clean starlight again; and he took home both the well-loved "Lunatic," an honorable wound, and the information his captain wanted.

"Not a bad afternoon's bag!" said Benny to himself. And he took home, too, the knowledge that he not only was not afraid in the air, but that he was n't afraid of other men, armed; and this, strange to say, is something the airman often wonders about, whether he would have the courage of the man who "goes over the top!"

"And if you fly so-and-so and so-andso," Benny told his captain when he landed half an hour later, finding his own field with difficulty and only getting an answer when his last flare was dying, "why, there he is. And I'd have been home sooner, only I ran out of gas and had to stop and ask the Germans for some, and they were very obliging and gave me some and a bullet to boot-and, say, got anything to eat?"

Wherefore his captain said nothing at all about his having come home at ten o'clock instead of at eight-thirty, and only made the remark which opens this yarn.

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