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"We understand what we're up against, I assure you," Tom replied. "The plan is entirely Lieutenant Beverly's, sir. Sergeant Parmly has reason to get home before the La Bretagne reaches New York harbor, and she's already three days out. Learning this, our good friend here made a thrilling proposition, which we eagerly accepted. That's the story in a nutshell, Major Denning."
I'm going to hold my breath when we strike the ice, and only hope we don't keep gliding along until we shoot off the edge into the sea!" "Leave that to me, Jack," came the assurance of the pilot. After that no one said a word, for both Lieutenant Beverly and Jack Parmly realized that it would be dangerous to distract Tom's attention from his work just at the most critical moment.
Torn Raymond and Jack Parmly, as related in the initial volume, "Air Service Boys Flying for France; or The Young Heroes of the Lafayette Escadrille," were Virginians. Soon after the great world conflict started, they burned with a desire to fight on the side of freedom, and it was as aviators that they desired to help.
I'll let you into my little secret, which so far hasn't been shared by a single living man. Then later on you can decide if you care to accept the risk for the sake of the glory success would bring, as well as striking a blow for the flag we all love!" "Pitch in, please!" urged the impatient Jack Parmly. "Listen, then, boys," commenced the other earnestly.
He showed that his sympathies were on the side of the Parmly family by his delight when shaking hands again and again. Then the thrilling story was once more told, after he had been bound to secrecy. It would be hard to describe the emotions of the old lawyer as he sat and listened to what a great feat Jack and his two comrades had carried through.
They were actually in the midst of a storm of bursting projectiles and in immediate peril of having some damage done to their swift-flying planes such as would spell ruin to the enterprise, perhaps bring instant death to some of the fliers! "Climb, Tom! Climb in a hurry!" Jack Parmly shrilled these words close to the ear of his chum.
"Well, Tom, how's your head now?" "How's my head? What do you mean? There's nothing the matter with my head," and the speaker, who wore the uniform of a French aviator, glanced up in surprise from the cot on which he was reclining in his tent near the airdromes that stretched around a great level field, not far from Paris. "Oh, isn't there?" questioned Jack Parmly, with a smile.
"I learn in this letter from our lawyer that the richest kind of coal veins have been located on the Burson property in West Virginia; and that they promise to be valued at possibly a million dollars. Think of what that would mean to the Parmly family! For we are far from being rich.
But the one positive fact about which there isn't any doubt is that I'm here ahead of you, and you've lost out in your game, that's all." "But it's impossible, incredible!" continued the other, hardly able yet to believe his own eyes. "Still, you must admit that I'm Jack Parmly, and quite in the flesh, which after all is enough to settle the matter," he was calmly told.
How those blinking lights in the well-remembered windows of the Parmly home held Jack's eyes, once he sighted them! Never before in all his life had he felt such a delicious thrill creep over him from head to toe. Knocking on the door he and his chums carried out their pre-arranged plan.
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