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But with von Herzmann, their idol and their pride, forced from the fight by a hated Englander flying a dinky little Camel well, the Fatherland could be served some other day. But von Herzmann had been right in his boast that he would scatter the Americans like quails.
I expressed my opinion of Siddons and gee! how he'd like to be facing no more than this." It was a depressing, angering thought. Five days, von Herzmann had said. Then Siddons would face a firing squad. In the meantime, there was no human agency, on the Allied side of the line, that could stop the inexorable march of time and the certain death which this man must meet.
But I knew that von Herzmann had taken off with another pilot, and I knew that the jig was up. They weren't accusing me of anything as yet but they were very quiet and their manner told me all I needed to know. Then, bing! the barrage opened up. It was some surprise. They hadn't the foggiest notion that a blow was to be struck here.
"I was not at the controls," von Herzmann continued, "but the engine sputtered as though it were out of fuel." Major Cowan nodded his head sadly. "It was. Poor Siddons was right," he mused, seemingly unconscious for the moment of the presence of the others. "Only half right," von Herzmann corrected, smiling. "No," Cowan replied with spirit, "all right.
The presence of other planes, and his original plan, all were lost sight of in the pulse-quickening realization that he had crippled the plane of the famous ace in that first burst. Now to get him and bring him down! Von Herzmann was not one to cut and run unless there was an urgent reason for it. He was trying to tool a crippled plane back across the lines.
Montfaucon will fall to-morrow. This is the last of the big shows." He paused, and his eyes, which McGee had always thought so cold, twinkled with merriment. "By the way," he said, "at Division Headquarters of the 79th, where I made a report and was given transportation back here, the Intelligence Officer told me a spy was nabbed last night a chap by the name of von Herzmann.
Yes, they were ready, awaiting his signal, their idling motors purring like so many contented cats. The smiling, blond von Herzmann lifted his hand in signal. The purring sound changed to the deafening roar of a hundred infuriated jungle cats.
But must it be you to take the chance? You know the cost should you fail?" "Quite well, sir," von Herzmann replied, smiling. "A little party in front of a firing wall with myself as the center of attraction. Ah, well! What matter. I have about played out my string of luck in the air. Sooner or later, there must be an ending.
They even learned, from Cowan, how Siddons, working with the French, had plotted trapping von Herzmann that day when the squadron was attacked for the first time. The lucky arrival of the French Spads, they now knew, was not a matter of luck at all, but a daring plan to overwhelm the greedy German war eagle and rid the air of him. Yes, Siddons had courage and brains.
"The sergeant doesn't know," von Herzmann put in. "He is the third man in whose charge I have been placed. Perhaps you had better let me tell you, Major. Your planes are quite wretched and inferior, sir, and when the engine of the one I was making use of died suddenly, we were forced to land quickly and take what the Fates had in store.
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