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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Good riddance!" almost gasped Erwin. "He's gone to hell, where he and his like belong! But what's this? Glory! His tank is busted; his plane goes down with him and on fire!" Erwin was correct. The biplane's tank always in danger in fights like this had been badly punctured by the same hail of Lewis bullets that had also hit the German, just as his plane got out of control.
Then, too worn-out even to eat, they crawled under the shelter of the biplane's ample wings, and dropped instantly into the long and dreamless sleep of utter weariness. Mid-morning found them, still lame and stiff but rested, cooking breakfast over a cheery fire on the beach near the machine.
"Course it's Fritzy, Lafe," was Bangs' comment who, after aiding Blaine to stow the wounded man as comfortably as possible in his own manhole, was already at work replenishing the biplane's tank from his own. "To be square, I'll divide up, giving you a leetle the most. We gotter to get back eh?" "If possible, yes. I don't hanker after a German prison camp.
The monoplane would, probably, divide this area into one plane eight and a half feet from front to rear, and 42 feet in length. In the monoplane each wing would project out about three feet more on each side, but it would have eight and a half feet fore and aft spread to the biplane's five feet, and thus act as a greater support.
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