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Both were flippantly arguing as to which one had got the best of the other. "I own up that I am a little bit stale, Milt. But you wait until we go out for squadron practice. I'll show you!" "Yes, you will," replied Finzer, good-naturedly caustic. "Perhaps I'll show you another trick or two then." And so the chaffing went on as the lads adjourned to the eating-house for lunch.
"Why, it's British one of their latest makes," informed Erwin, much pleased. "It's let's see." He was squinting at the monogram. No. 48." Just then Blaine and Finzer strolled up. "Going out for a little spin, Orry?" queried Blaine, throwing open wider the hangar door. "Look at 'em! Ain't they beauts?"
Most of those we have met before were there, all except poor Finzer and a few others that had fallen in the various raids that had taken place from time to time. There was Erwin, now a corporal; Lex Brodno, His American Pole, and others . Byers was in charge, with Anson and one or two other British aviators detailed to help the new American airmen get into thorough shape and training.
Suddenly Finzer turned his nose earthward and began a whirling dive. Erwin followed; the other coming at once into horizontal poise, turned his nose towards Erwin the perfect position for pouring a rain of shot as the other passed.
An upward flip and the alert planes rose gently into the air, and Erwin was off. His head was cool, his brain active, and more than all his hands were steady. About this time Finzer had rolled out another plane and almost immediately rose behind Orris.
If I hadn't been kept so busy would have gone round to jolly you up a bit. But I kept hearin' from you all the same." This from Milton, or "Milt" Finzer, a Louisville lad, now in the Royal Flying Corps for more than a year. "Don't it seem wallopin' to see you in the clubroom again!"
Erwin took his, while Finzer, Brodno, and a real American lad from Butte, Montana, were assigned to others of these fast, nimble, scouting planes that are really the wasps of the air, carrying their sting with them, always ready and willing to bite. Meanwhile at each machine two mechanics, under the eye of the airman, went carefully over the mechanism until all were satisfied.
Most of the boys were away, scattered along the now advancing front but by night some of them began to straggle back. Poor Finzer and Brodno would never come back. That both Lafe and his companion well knew. But they had died like true men, fighting for the cause they believed in. Captain Byers was also at the front, now many miles to the east.
Finally, with an effort that must have been a last clutch at his vanishing strength, he flung his mashed and bloody hand on a paper pad, with pencil laying by. One sentient gleam; then he gave up the ghost. What did Finzer mean by that last gesture? With reluctance Blaine picked up the pad and read the following words now almost illegible with blood. "Boche got me. Machine back by log pile.
"We've got no time to lose. I've got tools or rather Milt had." "What's the matter with Finzer?" Buck was keenly concerned for he and Milt had been quite chummy. Blaine told him briefly all that had happened. "And you had to leave him back there? Well well, it's war. Sure he was dead? By thunder! I'll get even yet with Hans Gawd willin'. The skunks!"
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