Brighton Boys with the Flying Corps, Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  IN THE AIR

  Bob Haines was the first of the Brighton boys to go up in an aeroplane.

  It was due to no planning on his part. It was not to please him thathe was taken as a passenger. One of the pilots was trying a machinenew to him and came down complaining of its lack of stability on theturns.

  "Any little puff that catches her sudden makes her wiggle herselfin a way I have never seen another plane do. I suppose these chasershave little habits of their own, but it would take my attention offwhat I was doing, to have her monkeying around that way. What do youthink it is?"

  The instructor addressed was unable to answer. "You have been up inher. You know more than I do about her."

  "Perhaps a passenger would help her," suggested another pilot.

  "I don't see how." The flier shook his head. "Anyway, I would liketo see how she climbs with two up. From the little I tried her out,I think she is the fastest climber I have been in anywhere. Come upfor a bit, John."

  "Can't," said the pilot. "About ten minutes ago the major sent wordhe wanted to see me at once. If I don't get a move on I will catchit." He started off in a hurry.

  "Come on, Fanshaw," said the pilot, turning to the instructor.

  "Not me," was the reply. "I have a swat of work. There is ballastfor you, though, over there by the shed." Bob Haines was the ballastindicated. He was putting the final touches on an aeroplane propellorto which he had administered a coat of varnish.

  "What lot?" queried the pilot.

  "Bunch of young fellows from about here. Sort of volunteers. Ideaof the colonel's, I think. Nice lot of boys. Young, but getting onfast. I have seen one of them, a French boy, quite a bit lately, andif they are all as good at locating engine trouble as he is they willgo far in this game before they are old men. Ask the tall youngster.He will be tickled to death. I don't suppose he has been up before,but he will be a good passenger. Be careful and don't scare him.Don't try any stunts. Shall I sing out to him?"

  "I guess so. I don't much care who it is so long as he weighs up toaverage, and that fellow looks pretty husky."

  "Here, young fellow! You are needed here for a minute," called outFanshaw.

  Bob trotted over to the plane at once.

  "What were you at?" asked the instructor.

  "Varnishing," replied Bob. "Just finished."

  "This is Lieutenant Fauver. He is trying this new chaser. She isthe finest thing we have seen here, and he wants to give her a spinwith a passenger up. Hop in if you like."

  The pilot smiled and shook Bob's hand, then added another invitation.It was hardly necessary. Bob was overjoyed. Often the boys haddiscussed going up, but a fair frequency of minor accidents made theofficers at the camp chary about any unnecessary risks. Consequently,the Brighton boys had decided that their best plan was to say nothingabout flying as passengers until someone suggested it to them. Thatone of them might be of any possible use as a passenger had neverentered their heads.

  A few moments after, the new chaser was soaring upward with a roarof engine exhaust that told of pride of power. Bob was in the snugfront seat undergoing an experience whose like he had never dreamedof. His youthful imagination had often tried to picture what itwould be like to be up in a swift flying-machine, but the senseof power and the exhilaration of swinging triumphantly through spacegave him a new sensation.

  "This," he thought, "is the greatest game of all. This is what oneday I will be doing to some purpose."

  His mind went out to that day when he would be guiding his own machineon a hostile errand, over the enemy's country, perhaps. The fine,high enthusiasm of youth rushed through him and his pulses beat fasteras he pictured himself, a knight of the air, starting forth on aquest that might mean great danger, but would, with sufficientforesight, care and determination, result in disaster for theantagonist rather than for himself.

  Higher and higher climbed the swift plane, no faltering in its stride.The beat of the engines was as rhythmical to experienced ears as theregular swing and lilt of some perfectly rendered piece of music tothe ears of a master musician.

  Bob noticed the country below, but was too much absorbed with his ownthoughts to give much attention to details of the wonderful panoramathat stretched away for miles and miles, until they had soared to aheight that made blurred lines of roads and hedges far under them,and caused even houses and outbuildings to grow increasinglyindistinguishable. Only the silver band of the little river, windingin graceful curves and catching the afternoon sun, remained an unfailinglandmark.

  Then suddenly came an abrupt silence. Bob's heart leaped to histhroat. What had happened? No sooner had his inner consciousnessasked the question than his common sense had answered it. The pilothad shut off the engine, of course. Already the powerful planewas heading downward over the trackless path up which it had risen,and was gliding with a soft rush of air which produced a floatingsensation.

  "How did you like that?" asked Lieutenant Fauver.

  "Great," said Bob. Great! He wanted to say more. He wanted toexplain that a new world had opened to him. That he had felt thecall that would leave him restless until he, too, had mastered oneof those marvelous steeds of the air, and was free to soar at willwherever he chose to direct his mount. Great! The word expressedso little. Bob thought of a dozen things to say, but heaved a bigsigh of genuine content, and left them all unsaid.

  Fauver was of much the same mold as Bob. He caught something of theyounger boy's mood. He knew how the lad felt. His memory took himback to his own first flight. How long ago it seemed! How impressedhe had been at his first real taste of the sweets of the air-game!How utterly incapable of expressing his feeling!

  So he respected the frame of mind of the lad in front of him andvolplaned down in silence, trying the stability of the plane by widespirals, banking it just enough to be delightful to a passenger,without going far enough to cause the slightest apprehension ornervousness.

  It was proving a priceless experience to Bob. He seemed transportedto another existence. Then the earth began to come nearer. Thingsbelow took quick form. Bob realized that soon they would be landing.Just at the last he thought the ground was rising toward them at anastonishing rate. Surely this was not quite right! They must bedropping like a stone. Up, up, came the ground. Bob unconsciouslybraced himself for the impact. They were going to come down witha mighty smash. He held his breath and set his teeth. At the verymoment when all seemed over but the crash, the graceful plane liftedits head ever so slightly, the engine started roaring again, andthey glided to earth and ran along so smoothly that for the lifeof him Bob could not have told the exact moment the wheels touchedthe ground.

  When they stepped out of the machine Bob did something on the spurof the moment that he laughed about afterward. He stepped to thelieutenant and put out his hand. As Fauver took it in a friendly,firm grasp Bob said: "That was the biggest experience of my life."Again that similarity of temperament between the two told Fauversomething of the depth of Bob's feeling, and he said quietly: "Iam glad to have given you a chance to go up, and next time you happento be around when I am going up, if you can get away for a littlewhile, I would be glad to have you go along. One of these days Iwill give you a good long flight, if I get a chance."

  Bob went back to the hangar an older boy. The enthusiasm still heldhim close. The days would drag, now, until he could begin flying.He was sure of that.

  When the other Brighton boys learned that Bob had actually been upin the air, there was a natural desire among them all to do likewise.Jimmy Hill made up his mind it would not be long before he had aflight. Adams, one of the instructors who had recently arrived,wanted a hand to help him tune up a new school machine that wasfitted with dual control, i.e., that had a double set of levers sothat the novice could guide the machine while the instructor had arestraining hand on them in case of emergencies. Reece, JimmyHill's great friend, was called away to make a test fli
ght justas Adams spoke to him about a good helper, and told Adams that hecould not do better than give Jimmy a chance to lend a hand.

  "The boy will do what he is told," said Reece. "All you have to dois to explain just what you want done. He is dependable. Try him.He is a nice boy, too, and you will like to have him round."

  So Jimmy worked that day and the next on the new school machine.Finally it was ready.

  "Wait till I take her up for a bit and see how she pulls and I willgive you a runaround in her," said Adams to Jimmy. The instructor hadbeen highly pleased with the way the boy had worked, and felt anxiousto give him a treat.

  Thus Jimmy had his first flight. Further, he was shown by Adams howto hold the controls, though he was careful to put no pressure onthem. Next day Adams said, "Come on. I will show you how we startteaching flying where I come from."

  Before half an hour passed Jimmy found he could "taxi," as Adamscalled running along the ground, quite well. That was but a beginning.Three times in the following week Adams took the boy out for a lesson;and the practical experience, though limited, gave Jimmy a very goodidea of what was required of much of the adjustments and finer pointsof tuning up that he had learned to see Reece do in the sheds.

  At last Adams made a short flight and let Jimmy handle the machinefor a few moments alone, the instructor removing his hands from hiscontrol levers and leaving the job to Jimmy. It was a simple enoughlittle flight, but Jimmy had the knowledge that he had been actuallyflying the machine for a time, all by himself, which pleasedhim beyond measure.

  One of the red-letter days the Brighton boys were long to rememberwas that on which they first watched a new arrival to the airdrome,an experienced flier, loop the loop and nose-dive on one of the fastchasers. The whirling, darting plane seemed so completely at themercy of the pilot that the boys were rapt in silent wonder. Thatexhibition of what the birdmen of to-day call real flying was arevelation to them.

  It held out promise of long study and careful practice far aheadbefore they could hope to equal or excel the cool, modest youngaviator who came down so gracefully after a series of side loopsthat made most of the spectators hold their breath.

  Summer days passed rapidly. Joe Little and Louis Deschamps weresitting in a hangar one Sunday afternoon, chatting about a new typeof battle-plane that had arrived that week.

  "I could fly that bus," said Joe, "if I had a chance."

  "That is just the trouble," commented Louis. "Getting the chance iswhat is so hard. I am tired of fussing around on those schoolmachines they let us on now and then. What is the good of trying tofly on a plane that won't rise more than a couple of dozen feet? Ihave never had a chance to fly anything else. I get to thinking,working so much on real planes, that those school machines for theinfant class are not fliers at all. They are a sort of cross betweena flying machine and an auto."

  "You are in too much of a rush," Joe admonished. "I think we arelucky to get a go in one of those now and then. Jimmy Hill goes upin that old dual-control bus with Adams, but to my mind that sort ofthing is out of date. I have got the idea of lateral control as wellon that school bus that Parks let me out on, as I could have got itfrom any of the chasers. Another go or two and I will get horizontalcontrol down fine, and then I am ready for a real go. I can land theschool bus like a bird. I am getting swelled up, Louis."

  "All right. But don't get so swelled that you play the goat, Joe.I know you won't, for that matter. You are one of the careful ones,all right. But this does not get us any nearer flying a real machine."

  "I wish I had a machine of my own," said Joe mournfully.

  "Wishing won't get it, Joe."

  "I wonder why we can't get hold of a machine that has been finishedoff by one of these cheerful student chaps, and still has some goodstuff left in it, and get Parks to let us patch it up and get a flighton it?"

  "Parks can't be all that generous of government property, old man.If a plane is worth fixing up the chief wants the rest of the use ofit. If it is no good to him it would not be worth anything to us;that's the rub there."

  "I've got it!" exclaimed Joe, slapping his knee. "Why not hit Parksfor that old 'bad bus' that gave the young fellow the broken leg thelast time it smashed? There is plenty of life left in that old girl.I wonder they haven't taken the engine out of her if they don'tintend to fix her up, The engine is all right."

  "Maybe the engine is out of her. Where is she?"

  "Down in number twelve hangar, covered up in the corner."

  "Let's go and have a look at her."

  The two lads trotted off to inspect the damaged plane, which theyfound under a pile of canvas, just where it had been brought the daya bad side-slip had resulted in smashing it up.

  "The engine is in her, sure enough," said Louis, "and it is by nomeans a bad type of engine either. It might have more power, but itis reliable enough. What was the matter with this bus, anyway, thatmade them decide to shelve her?"

  Someone told me that she side-slips badly at times. I never heardwhy. Planes don't do things like that without there being a reason,Louis. Maybe she needs a bit of fixing that she has never had. Itwould be fun if we could rig her up so that she would fly properly,wouldn't it? Wonder if there is any use asking Parks?"

  "Parks could only ask the colonel, I suppose. He is a real goodfellow, and always seems willing to help us in every way he can.I don't see, if he does not intend to repair the 'bad bus,' whyhe wouldn't let us do it in our spare time, I know he would trustme to do the engine. He said the other day I could tune up an engineas well as anyone he had under him."

  "You could fix up the engine easy enough," said Joe "It is the restof the machine that would take some doing. She is in pretty rockyshape, an would want a lot replaced. Harry Corwin could help uswith her. He has had a lot of work with frames lately. For thatmatter, I guess all the lot would help. We could come in early andget some time on her before work starts, stay a bit later at night,and most Sunday afternoons we could hammer away at her withoutinterruption. It would be rather fun to have the seven of us tryingto show what we have learned and putting it into practice that way.If we got the old bus right I don't think they would mind our havinga flight or two on her now and then, do you?"

  "Sure not," replied the French boy. "But will the colonel give usthe chance?"

  "We will know before many days have passed."

  Parks shook his head at first when the boys broached the project tohim. "I don't think the colonel will agree," was his comment.

  "I had better wait for a good time to introduce the idea. Thereis no telling what he might think of it. Personally, I was undecidedwhat to do with that machine. I have just let it set there waitingtill I made up my mind. I can't recommend scrapping a plane merelybecause it has the reputation of being unlucky. That is about allthe bad name of the 'bad bus' amounts to, after all. I am not surethat you boys would not turn her out in better shape than the repairmen turned her out last time. I can't see the harm in the plan."

  Parks generally got his way about the hangars. Colonel Marker dependedgreatly on Parks' judgment, which the colonel was fond of calling"horse sense." So when the head instructor spoke to the colonel aboutthe proposal the Brighton boys had made to repair the "bad bus" intheir own time, and obtain, as a special reward for good work,permission to do a little flying on the machine when opportunityoccurred, Colonel Marker felt inclined to leave the matter to Parks,and said so. That really settled it, for Parks had decided to pleadthe cause of the boys.

  The weeks that passed were very full ones for the Brighton boys, whoworked like Trojans on the machine they had undertaken to put inorder. They made some mistakes, and more than once had to apply toParks for help and advice. These he gave cheerfully. Louis andMacpherson overhauled the engine, and pronounced it in A-1 conditionwhen it left the test bench. Every one of the boys learned muchabout aircraft construction, at least so far as that type of biplanewas concerned, before they were through wit
h the job.

  Finally the day came when the "bad bus"---rechristened the "boys'bus "---was wheeled out for its trial flight after the completion ofthe repairs. Adams was chosen to make the trial trip, which wentoff without incident. He flew the big biplane six or seven hundredfeet above the green carpet of the airdrome, and came down with agraceful volplane that caused the boys to feel like applauding.

  "Who is next?" asked Adams as he sprang from the seat and the biplanecame to rest beside the little group.

  The honor was voted to Joe Little, as the originator of the ideaof getting hold of the machine. Joe was not very eager to go upwhen it came to an actual trial of the plane. He thought he wouldhave no difficulty in flying it, for the controls were very familiarto him, and a straight flight, or even a wide circle of the flyingground proper, offered no apparent difficulties. Joe was naturallya shy and retiring lad, and felt that he was very much in the limelightas he climbed into the seat of the biplane.

  Joe got off well enough to suit the most critical instructor, andafter rolling until he was quite sure of himself, he raised theelevator slightly and the machine left the ground in a most satisfactorymanner.

  Joe did not try to fly at a great height, but once well clear ofthe ground settled into his seat and started to gently turn to theleft, commencing a wide circle that would land him, should he chooseto come down at the end of one circuit of the grounds, at the pointwhere the Brighton boys and Parks were watching him.

  There was so little wind that it had no noticeable effect on theplane. The controls worked perfectly, and Joe felt increasinglyat his ease. When he had made the first circuit he decided to continue,rise to a somewhat greater height, and come down with a nice, simplevolplane at the feet of his fellows.

  All continued to go well. Nothing was necessary but to watch thatno sudden gust caught the plane and found its pilot unprepared. Theplane was banked so slightly that he had no need to fear side-slip.He concentrated all his powers on making a fine landing. When hewas ready to come down he shut off his engine and dipped thebiplane slightly. She answered like a bird, and started glidingearthward delightfully, planing at a perfect angle.

  While Joe was not far up, he had never flown a machine before at thatheight, and consequently his volplane seemed to occupy a longertime than it should have done. His fingers itched to start theengine again and raise the elevator just enough to arrest the downwardswoop, and transform it into a soft glide, nicely calculated sothat it would bring the wheels of the chassis into contact withthe ground without any shock. He was over-keen on that landing,realizing that so many pairs of eyes were on him.

  The earth came up toward him just a shade too fast to suit him.Then he decided that the right moment had come, lifted his elevatorslightly, started the engine for a few turns, and wondered if hehad done the thing well.

  He had not.

  Joe, in his anxiety and inexperience, had pulled up his machine alittle too quickly. Its headway stopped, as it was still a dozenfeet from the ground, along which Joe had hoped to glide gracefullyto rest. The biplane hung a moment in the air, as if undecidedwhat to do. Fortunately Joe had shut off the engine when his intuitiontold him all was not right. He could not tell what distance thewheels of the chassis lacked before they would rest on terra firma,but hoped against hope that they were nearer than they seemed to be.

  The machine, losing all impetus, simply sat down with a bump. Thechassis and the under plane smashed with a sound of ripping canvasand splintering wood. Joe had a good bump, too, but was none theworse for it physically. He stepped out of his seat before theboys could run to the wrecked biplane. They were all sympathy andeagerness to see if Joe was hurt. He had not dropped far, but hadcome down with such a thud that even Parks was anxious. Bob Haineswas the first of the Brighton boys to reach the machine. "Are youall right, Joe?" he called out as he came up.

  "Guess so," was the reply. "I feel jarred---but look at the poor oldbus! How did I do it? After all our hard work, she is completelywrecked again, and I did it." Joe felt that it would be a relief toget away from the scene of the smash, and had to down a temptation towalk off by himself. He was almost heartbroken when he thought of allthe work that his mistake had undone.

  "Never mind," said Parks. "Everyone has to learn. I will bet thatyou don't pull up short when landing another time."

  Joe was not to be thus easily comforted. Sensitive to a degree, hisheart entirely in his work, he was utterly disgusted with himselffor having had the temerity to try the flight. What hurt most wasthe knowledge that the plane the Brighton boys had so looked forwardto having for practice flying they could hardly hope to get otherwisefor a long time to come, was _hors de combat_, and possibly beyondanother repair.

  Recognizing Joe's frame of mind, the boys grouped round the brokenbiplane in silence, searching their minds for a word that would givea crumb of comfort to their comrade. The more they looked over thewreck, the less they knew what to say.

  As they stood there, watching Parks poking round the smashed machine,Colonel Marker came up with Major Phelps. They had not been far awaywhen Joe had started on his experimental round of the airdrome, andhad witnessed the whole episode.

  "You did not do so badly until you landed," said the colonel pleasantly."You should have stayed up."

  The boys had never before heard the colonel essay a joke, and wereby no means sure that his first remark was not the preface to seriouscondemnation of Joe. Colonel Marker had often been heard to treatthe subject of smashed machines in a manner decidedly uncomplimentaryto the luckless aviator who was responsible.

  Poor Joe felt his heart in his throat. A very deep feeling of shamecame over him and his eyes filled with tears. His face showed realdistress.

  The colonel turned to Joe from an inspection of the plane and as hedid so saw the boy's eyes. Colonel Marker was a kindhearted man,for all his gruff exterior, and he had, too, a great interest inthe Brighton boys and their progress. He felt, the moment herealized how much to heart Joe had taken the accident, a sense ofsincere sympathy for the lad.

  Placing his hand on Joe's shoulder, he said: "My boy, what countsmost is the way you have worked to get that old machine into flyingshape, and the fact that you were ready and willing to have a shotat flying her, with all your inexperience. Those things show keenness,enthusiasm, and pluck. A flying man has to possess nerve. He has totake chances sometimes. You did the best you could do. The factthat you were inexperienced was against you, but in failing to getthrough without accident you gained experience. I do not care halfso much about the machine as you might think. I might have left itunrepaired if you boys had not taken on the job. Don't feel sobadly, my boy."

  Joe had difficulty in finding his voice. "But, sir," he said ina low tone, "the boys had looked forward so much to getting a chanceto learn to fly on the old bus. Now that is all knocked into acocked hat. I feel that I have robbed them of something I can'tgive them again. They are too good to say so, but every one of themfeels the disappointment as much as can be."

  "Well," said the colonel, "there is no need for too much downheartednesson that score. Maybe I can play fairy godmother along that line.You Brighton boys have worked hard and studied hard. I have watchedyou. I am pleased with you. You are all big enough now to beginthe game, I think, or at least you will be soon. What do you think,Major?"

  "I think you are right, sir," replied Major Phelps quietly. "If anyboys deserve to be taken into the service these surely do. They maybe a bit on the young side, but they will be quite old enough by thetime they get to France."

  To France! The Brighton boys could hardly believe their ears. Thatcasual sentence quickened every pulse. To France! The baresuggestion made them glow with anticipation.

  "How do you feel about it?" asked the colonel, turning to the seven.

  "Every one of us is ready to go into the service the very first daywe can be taken in," answered Bob Haines. "We started with thatidea in view. We all ho
ped some day to join up, and we think wecould be of more use in the Flying Corps than anywhere else. I don'tmean by that that we want to pick our jobs, sir, but we would liketo get into the air service for choice."

  "And a very good choice too," commented Colonel Marker. "MajorPhelps, suppose you look into the individual work that each of theseboys has been doing lately, and see if those under whom they haveworked recommend them all. Is this the lot of them?"

  "One more, sir," spoke up Bob. "Benson, sir, in the stores."

  "Benson has proven to be mightily useful," said the major.

  "All right," concluded the colonel. "Come on, Phelps. We must lookover the ground for those new hangars. You can tell me what you findabout these Brighton boys when you have finished your inquiries."They walked away together, leaving seven of the proudest and happiestboys in the world.

  "Give a hand to get this wreck into the shed," said Parks. "Youfellows are all right now. The old man knows well enough you boyshave been doing well. That is just his way. You had better find outwhat your folks are going to say."

  Each of the boys felt confident that the news would be well receivedat home. They fell to with a will and soon had the biplane moved intothe shed. That night they went home in high spirits. They were boysno longer; they had become men. They pictured themselves in realservice uniforms, and longed for the day when, as Major Phelps hadsaid, they would "get to France."

  Harry Corwin and Joe Little lingered for a moment at the gate of theHill home for a final word with Jimmy, who was very much excited. "Itall came out of your smash, Joe," said Harry. "The colonel might nothave thought of us for a long time yet but for that. You could nothave done it better if you had planned it."

  Joe had gotten over the worst of his chagrin. He smiled. "I amglad it has taken the minds of you fellows off of my smash, anyway,"he said.

  Each family into which that news came that evening took it differently.None of the parents of the Brighton lads who heard of the colonel'spromise were quite prepared for it. All thought the boys might betaken in some day, but it had seemed a long way off. Bob Haines'uncle was very proud of Bob, and telegraphed Senator Haines thatBob was going into the army as a matter of information rather thana request for permission.

  Mrs. Mann was anything but glad to hear Dicky's "good news." Shewas a timid little woman, with a horror of all fighting. Mr. Manntook Dicky by the hand, however, and said, "God bless you, son,"in a way that made Dicky feel closer to his father than he had everbeen before. Jimmy Hill's mother was away from home.

  Mr. Hill took the information as a matter of course. "I thoughtthey would take you in one of these days," he remarked. "You boysought to prove a credit to us all. I would give a lot to be asyoung as you are and have your chance, Jimmy. You will have torepresent the family, though, I guess. They won't take men of myage, at least yet." Jimmy made up his mind then and there that hewould represent his father, of whom he was intensely proud and veryfond, and represent him to the very best of his ability.

  Harry Corwin's folks seemed little surprised. Grace kissed him verytenderly, and his mother drew his head down and pressed his cheekclose to hers. "That will take both of my boys," she said quietly.In the conversation that followed at the dinner table Harry wasstruck with the familiarity with which they all spoke of thepossibility that the boys would be taken into the service at once.They had not discussed the matter in such detail before in hispresence. Grace mentioned more than once something that "the majorsaid," and Harry finally came to the conclusion that his peoplehad been closer in touch with the matter than he had been. MajorPhelps saw a good deal of Grace. Perhaps that had much to dowith it.

  The Bensons and the Foxes took the news less seriously. "I guessit will be a long time before you boys see France," said Mr. Fox."It is the right thing, though, and if you get a chance, take it."

  Louis Deschamps was to receive a bigger piece of news from his motherthan he gave to her.

  "Next week we leave for France, both of us," said Mrs. Deschamps."I have not told you, Louis, for you were so happy with your workat the airdrome I wanted you to enjoy it while you could do so.You are French, my son, and thank God you are becoming old enoughto take a hand in the war. When we get home I will see what canbe done to place you at once in our own flying service. If youhave learned much here, as I think you have, it will all come inwell when you are fighting for France."

  Louis was overjoyed. He liked his comrades of the school, but hewas, after all, a French boy and had a French boy's heart. More,he had a French mother, with a French mother's devotion to her countryand her country's cause.

  "For France!" an expression often heard in the Deschamps' household,meant more than mere words could utter. All the fine, high resolve;all the passionate belief in the justice of the French cause; allthe stern determination that the war must be won, whatever the cost---allthat went to make the magnificent French women of to-day the splendidheroines they have shown themselves to be, was deeply rooted inMrs. Deschamps. Her husband in the trenches, she might well havebegrudged her only son, so young and such a mere boy in all his ways.Not she. She was a true mother of France. The highest sacrificewas not too great to make for the republic.

  So Louis was soon to leave the Brighton boys, to go on to Franceahead of them, and to be enrolled in his own army, by the side ofwhich his American school chums hoped one day to be fighting a commonenemy.

  Another mother of one of the Brighton boys was of the same heroicmold as the brave French woman. Joe Little's widowed mother tookthe news calmly. She had felt it would come one day. Her mindwent back, as it had done frequently after the boys had commencedtheir work at the airdrome, to the days of the short Spanish-Americanwar. Joe's father, impulsive, had joined the colors at the firstcall and gone to Cuba. Mrs. Little's only brother, very dear toher, had volunteered, too, and was in the First Expedition to thePhilippines. Neither had come back. War had taken so much fromMrs. Little, and left her so hard a bed to lie upon, that it seemedcruel that she should be asked for still more sacrifice. She hadfought it all out in the quiet of her bedchamber, where, night afternight, she had prayed long and earnestly for guidance and strengthand courage.

  Well Mrs. Little knew that if she told Joe the truth about her financesand what his going would mean to her she could doubtless influencehim to stay and care for her. There were many others who could besent, who did not, could not, mean so much to those they would leavebehind. Joe was all she had. She was growing old, and her littlestore of money was dwindling surely if slowly.

  By the time Joe came home that night and told her of what the colonelhad said, Mrs. Little had steeled herself to give her boy to hercountry and humanity. It cost her dear, but she set her teeth andplaced her offering on the altar of what she had come to believeher duty, with a brave, patient smile in her eyes, in spite of theclutch at her heartstrings.

  "Splendid, Joe," she said with what enthusiasm she could put intoher words. "You are glad, aren't you, dear?"

  "Not glad, mother darling." Joe placed his arm around her slenderwaist tenderly. They were very close, these two. "Not glad. Thatdoes not express it. I couldn't be glad to go away and leave you.Though, for that matter, you will be all right. I feel sort of aninspiration I can't explain. It is all so big. It seems sonecessary that I should go, and I felt that I should be so utterlyout of it if I did not go one day. When the colonel spoke thatway it seemed like a sort of fulfillment of something that had tocome, whether or no. I might call it fate, but that does not describeit quite. It is bigger than fate. It sounds silly, mother, butit is a sort of exaltation, in a sense. It had to come, and I feelit is almost a holy thing to me."

  Joe's mother put her two hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were moist,but her courage never faltered. "Joe, such boys as you are could notstay at home. You are your father's son, dear."

  "And my mother's," said Joe soberly. "It is from you I get thestrength to want to do my duty, and I wi
ll not forget it when thestrain comes. I will always have your face in front of me to leadme on, mother."