The scheme evolved, or, perhaps, dreamed of by Tom Raymond in his anxiety to get some word to the captive Harry Leroy worked well at the start. When he and Jack asked permission to have half a day off to make the trip to Paris it was readily granted. Perhaps it was because of their exploit of the day before, when their sharp eyes had discovered the camouflaged German battery and brought about its destruction, or maybe it was because the day was a misty one,+ when no flying could be done.

At any rate, soon after breakfast saw the two boys on their way to the wonderful city—wonderful in spite of war and the German “super cannon,” which had itself been destroyed.

Tom and Jack knew that unless their plans were changed, the two girls and Mrs. Gleason would be at home in Paris, for they had a holiday once in every seven, and it was their custom to come to their lodging for a rest from the merciful, though none the less exceedingly trying, Red Cross work.

Nor had the boys guessed in vain, for when they presented themselves at the Gleason lodging, where Nellie Leroy was also staying, they were greeted with exclamations of delight.

“We were just thinking of you,” said Bessie, as she shook hands with Jack.

“And so we were of you,” Jack replied, gallantly.

“I thought of it first,” said Tom. “He'll have to give me credit for that.”

“Yes,” agreed Jack, “I will. He's got a great scheme,” he added, as Mrs. Gleason came in to greet the boys. “Tell 'em, Tom.”

“Is it anything about—oh, have you any news for me about Harry?” asked Nellie eagerly.

“Not exactly news from him, but we're going to send some news to him!” exclaimed Tom. “I want you to write him a letter-a real, nice, sisterly letter.”

“What good will that do?” asked Nellie. “I've sent him a lot, but I can't be sure that he gets them. I don't even know that he is alive.”

“Oh, I think he is,” said Tom, hopefully. “If the German airmen were decent enough to let us know he was a prisoner of theirs, they would tell us if—if—well, if anything had happened to him.”

“I think,” he went on, “that you, can count on his being alive, though he isn't having the best time in the world—none of the Hun prisoners do. That's why I thought it would cheer him up to let him know we are thinking of him, and if we can send him some smokes, and some chocolate.”

“Oh, he is so fond of chocolate!” exclaimed Nellie. “He used to love the fudge I made. I wonder if I could send him any of that?”

Tom shook his head.

“It would be better,” he said, “to send only hard chocolate—the kind that can stand hard knocks. Fudge is too soft. It would get all mussed up with what Jack and I have planned to do to it.”

“What is that?” asked Bessie Gleason. “You haven't told us yet. How are you going to get anything to Harry through those horrid German lines?”

“We're not going through the German lines we're going above 'em; in an aeroplane. And when we get over the prison camp where Harry is held, we're going to drop down a package to him, with the letters, the chocolate and other things inside.”

“Oh, that's perfectly wonderful!” exclaimed Bessie. “But will the Germans let you do it?”

“Well,” remarked Jack, “they'll probably try to stop us, but we don't mind a little thing like that. We're used to it. Of course, as I tell Torn, it's a long chance, but it's worth taking. Of course it isn't easy to drop any object from a moving aeroplane and have it land at a certain spot. We may miss the mark.”

“For that reason I'm going to take several packages,” put in Tom. “If one doesn't land another may.”

“But if you do succeed in dropping a package for Harry in the midst of the German stockade, won't the guards see it and confiscate it?” asked Mrs. Gleason. “You know they'll be as brutal as they dare to the prisoners—though of course,”' she added quickly, as she saw a look of pain on Nellie's face, “Harry may be in a half-way decent camp. But, even then, won't the Germans keep the package themselves?”

“I've thought of that,” replied Tom. “We've got to take that chance also. But I figure that, in the confusion, Harry, or some of his fellow prisoners, may pick up the package, or packages, unobserved. Of course there's only a slim chance that Harry himself will pick up the bundle. But it will be addressed to him, and if any of the French, British, or American prisoners get it, they'll see that it goes to Harry all right.”

“Oh, of course,” murmured Mrs. Gleason. “But what was that you said about the 'confusion?'”

“That's something different,” said Tom. “I'm counting on dropping a few bombs on the German works outside the camp, to—er—well, to sort of take their attention off the packages we'll try to drop inside the stockade. Of course while we're doing this we may be and probably shall be, under fire ourselves. But we've got to take that chance. It's a mad scheme, Jack says, and I realize that it is. But we've got to do something.”

“Yes,” said Nellie in a low voice, “we must do something. This suspense is terrible. Oh, if I only could get word to Harry!”

“You write the letter and I'll take it!” declared Tom.

“And I'll help!” exclaimed Jack.

And then the letters—several of them, for each one wrote a few lines and made triplicates of it, since three packages were to be dropped. The letters, to begin again, were written and the bundles were made up. They contained cigarettes, cakes of hard chocolate, soap and a few other little comforts and luxuries that it was certain Harry would be glad to get.

The rest of the plan would have to be left to Tom and Jack to work out, and, having talked it over with their friends, they found it was time for them to start to their station, since their leave was up at eleven o'clock that night.

Getting permission for a week's absence was not as easy as securing permission to go to Paris. But Tom and Jack waited until after a sharp engagement, during which they distinguished themselves by bravery in. the air, assisting in bringing down some Hun planes, and then their petition was favorably acted on.

Behold them next, as a Frenchman might say, on their way to their former squadron, where they were welcomed with open arms. They had to take the commanding officer into their confidence, but he offered no objection to their scheme. They must go alone, however, and without his official knowledge or sanction, since it was not strictly a military matter.

And so Tom and Jack were furnished with the best and speediest machine in their former camp, and one bright day, following a hard air battle in which the Huns were worsted, they set out to drop the letters and packages over the prison camp where Harry Leroy was held.

“Well, how do you feel about it?” asked Jack, as he and his chum stepped into their trim machine.

“Not at all afraid, if that's what you mean.”

“No. And you know I didn't. I mean do you think we'll pull it off?”

“I have a sneaking suspicion that we shall.”

“And so have I. It's a desperate chance, but it may succeed. Only if it does, and we get Harry's hopes raised for a rescue, how are we going to pull that off?”

“That's another story,” remarked Tom. “Another story.”

They mounted into the clear, bright air, and proceeded toward the German lines. Would they reach their objective, or would they be shot down, to be either killed or made prisoners themselves? Those were questions they could not answer. But they hoped for the best.