"Just our beastly luck!" gasped Jack, turning white with apprehension.

"Wait, we haven't any proof as yet," advised Tom. "The Major himself admits that he's only afraid it may have been Beverly's hangar. Hasn't anything been done to learn the truth, sir?"

"Oh, yes," came the quick reply. "A number of cars have gone down that way, but the road's in a shocking condition, and up to now none of them has returned to advise us. I'd be very sorry if it turned out as I fear, doubly so if Beverly himself were injured or killed, because I'm fond of the chap, don't you know."

"Let's hope everything is all right," said Tom, as composedly as possible. "And first of all I'd like to get through the business part of our errand here. I have the packet to deliver for our general. Then the machine must be turned over to a representative of our Government here. After all that's attended to we'll strike out for the Beverly hangar."

"I'll be pleased to take you there personally, if you like," remarked
Major Denning.

"And we'll accept your offer with thanks, sir. It is very kind of you," said Tom, at the same time wondering what the other would say when he made the astounding discovery that the object of the expedition was even more ambitious than a mere flight to Berlin and back; that indeed the daring adventurers meant to attempt a record voyage across the Atlantic by air such as would vie with that of Columbus.

Jack fell into a fever of suspense again, and counted the minutes that must be consumed in carrying out the business in hand. Tom was exceedingly scrupulous concerning this.

"The general was kind enough to give us a good push on our way here," he told Jack, when the latter continued to fret and hint about "cutting off corners" in order to hasten their getting away. "We're bound to do our part of the job right up to the handle. Besides, what do ten or twenty minutes amount to?"

When Tom announced himself satisfied night had settled on the land. Dunkirk had for long been annoyed by the fire of a long-range monster gun, shells dropping into the city at stated intervals for weeks at a time.

So, too, hostile airplanes had hovered over the Channel port, trying to make it unpleasant for the British Tommies in camp near by. But since Marshal Foch opened operations on a large scale, together with the furious drive of General Pershing's army, this had altogether ceased.

Major Denning had a car at their disposal.

"It will take us to a place where we can leave the road and follow a path to the beach," he told them. "Beverly has quite a force of men there looking after things, which fact makes me hope nothing could have happened to injure or destroy that wonderful bomber. But we've been pestered to death with Hun bounders playing spy, and I'd put nothing past them."

They set out, and were soon on the way. Major Denning had a man at the wheel, evidently his chauffeur, for he was a British private. He knew the road, and managed to steer clear of the obstructions that continually cropped up.

"Seems to me those Hun pilots must have dropped most of their bombs out this way, instead of hitting the town or the camps," Tom suggested, as they dodged to and fro, and often suffered severe bouncings.

"No man-power to make any road repairs, in the bargain," explained the officer. "Since the drive has been on we are sending every British battalion we can muster forward. These things can wait until the German is licked, which we all believe is coming shortly, with Marshall Haig and General Pershing and General Petain on the job."

"Wow! what's that mean?" cried Jack, half jumping up as the sound of several shots not far away came distinctly to their ears.

"Did those shots seem to be over yonder to the right?" asked the major.

"So far as I was able to judge that's where they came from," Tom replied.
"Does the hangar lie in that quarter, sir?"

"Just what it does! There's certainly something strange going on around there to-night. But we'll quickly learn for ourselves, because the spot where we leave the road is just ahead of us."

Jack was the first out; indeed the car had not wholly come to a stand before he made a flying jump. Leaving the chauffeur to watch the car, the major soon found the trail. He carried a small hand electric torch with him, a vest-pocket size, but at least with a ray sufficiently strong to dissipate the gloom under the brush and to show them what seemed to be a well defined trail.

"We may find ourselves made a target by some of his wideawake guards. That they are on the alert those shots we heard a bit ago seem to testify," suggested Major Denning.

"Oh, we'll use the signal whistle; and I feel sure Lieutenant Beverly himself will be listening to catch it, for he expects us any minute now."

"We're getting close enough just now to exercise due caution, at any rate," the guide answered in a whisper.

Taking the hint, Tom commenced giving the signal. It was a short sharp whistle, four times repeated. Hardly had Tom sounded this than they heard an answer.

"Fine!" exclaimed Jack. "He's here on deck, and perhaps everything may be all right yet."

They continued along the path, and Tom repeated his whistling. Finally the figure of a man loomed up beyond.

"That you, Tom, Jack?" came a voice.

"Hello, Beverly!" Jack burst out impulsively. "We've come all the way by air. What's going on around here; nothing serious happened, I hope?"

"Rest easy on that score, boys," the other replied, still advancing.

"Then the machine is still ready for business, is it?" cried Jack.

"In apple-pie order, down to the last drop of juice, and ready to do the builders proud. But I'm mighty glad to see you, boys, I surely am. Afraid there'd be some hitch at the last minute from your end."

"And," said Tom, wringing the other's hand, "Jack has been picturing all sorts of terrible things happening to you and the plane here, near Dunkirk. He's as happy as a clam at high tide right now, I assure you."

"You bet I am!" Jack cried explosively, gripping the fingers of the lieutenant with great enthusiasm.

"Why, hello! who's this but my English cousin, Major Denning?" cried
Beverly, discovering that his two chums were not alone.

"Thought it best to steer them to you, and take no chances of a miss," explained the officer. "Besides, to tell you the truth, I fancied seeing you start off on your long contemplated trip to wake up Berlin. Once I was in hopes I might even have the opportunity of accompanying you. I've a score to settle with the beast for knocking a hole in my London house and frightening my aunt almost into fits. At least you'll let me wish you bon voyage, Beverly."

Tom said nothing. He realized that the major had no inkling of the real purpose of the flight about to be undertaken; and if he was to be told the facts the information must come from Lieutenant Beverly himself.

"Oh! By the way, that Berlin trip will have to wait," chuckled the lieutenant, making up his mind that a clean breast of the whole matter must follow. "Fact is, Major, we're after larger game than that would prove to be; something calculated to stagger you a bit, I think."

"You're certainly puzzling me by what you say, Colin," declared the major, betraying a growing curiosity in voice and manner. "I'd like to know for a fact what you could call larger game than a non-stop flight to Berlin and back, starting from the Channel here. Are you planning a trip to the moon, after Jules Verne's yarn?"

"No. But something that has as yet never been attempted," came the steady reply. "It is a flight across the Atlantic to America in the big bomber plane, and starting this very night!"