It was with a strange feeling of exhilaration that Tom and Jack realized the fact that at last they were embarked on a flight that would either bring about their death or, if successful, make a record in long distance non-stop travel in a heavier-than-air machine.

The cheers of the men on the beach had been drowned in the roar of the powerful motors and twin propellers when they left the land and commenced to sweep upward in a graceful curve.

Both boys looked down to catch the last glimpse of France, the land so closely associated with liberty in the minds of all true Americans. It was in her cause two million young Yankees were at that very hour facing the Boche in a determined effort to chase him back over the Rhine and force a stern settlement for all the devastation his armies had wrought.

Quickly did the darkness blot out all trace of land. Back some little distance, it was true, they could still glimpse feeble lights, marking the location of Dunkirk. The French no longer feared to illuminate to a limited extent since bombing planes no longer came raiding at night, nor did that unseen monster Krupp cannon deliver its regular messages of bursting shells.

Below them lay the English Channel, and Lieutenant Beverly had so shaped the course that as they rose higher and higher they were heading directly across, with the eastern shore of England close enough to have afforded them a view of the land had it not been night-time.

They had discussed all this many times, and settled on what seemed the most feasible route. Of course, it might have been a much shorter distance had they decided to head almost south-west-by-south, making for the Azores, and stopping there to prepare for another flight across to Newfoundland. Going that way, they would have had the benefit of the general easterly winds. But this did not appeal to Tom and Jack for several good reasons. In the first place, it meant that a landing at the Azores would be reckoned of such importance that it must be heralded far and near. This was apt to get them into trouble with the military authorities, since they had received no bona fide permission to leave the soil of France; at least, to return to America.

Then again Jack was opposed to the plan for the reason that if they should land at the extreme point of Newfoundland considerable delay must be caused by the difficulty of getting transportation to the States. All the while Randolph Carringford would be steadily moving on, and, landing at New York, have an advantage over Jack.

There was also a third reason that influenced the young navigators in deciding to take the longer course across the Atlantic. This concerned the fogs such as can always be met with off the Newfoundland Banks, and which are often so dense that vessels flounder through them for several days at a stretch.

By taking the southern course, and steering direct for the Virginia shore they would be likely to miss much of this trouble, even though it was a time of year when heavy mists hang along the entire Atlantic seaboard.

All of them were silent for some little time, only the roar of the motor and the propellers beating in their ears. Beverly had established a method of communication when in flight without unduly straining the voice. It was very similar to a wireless telephone outfit which Tom and Jack had employed not long back, and by the use of which they could actually talk with an operator similarly equipped, even if standing on the earth a mile below their plane.

It was arranged for all three of them, and could be removed from the head when no communication was desired. In the beginning they were not in the mood to make use of this contrivance, which, however, would undoubtedly be welcome later on, when they would be passing over the apparently limitless sea and the monotony had begun to wear upon their nerves. Then conversation might relieve the tension.

It was Jack who presently called out:

"I can see lights below us. Do you think we've crossed the Channel,
Lieutenant?"

"Yes, that's the English shore, and doubtless Dover lies directly below us, although we're at such a height that it's impossible to make sure."

"What's the idea of keeping so high, Lieutenant?" continued Jack.

"Simply to avoid collision with any of the coast guard fliers, who might take us for Huns meaning to attack London again after a long break. But Jack, I'm going to ask a favor of you."

"Go to it then!" called out the other, who was plainly "on edge" with excitement over the wonderful fact that they were at last on their way.

"Drop that formality from this time on," said Beverly earnestly. "Forget that I happen to rank you, for I'm sure your commissions are only delayed in the coming. From now on let it be either plain Colin, or if you prefer, Beverly. We're three chums in a boat—a ship of the air, to be exact—and all ranking on a level. You'll agree to that, won't you, Jack?"

"You bet I will, Colin, and it's just like you to propose it!" cried the pleased Jack.

After that they fell silent again, though now and then Jack, who was making good use of the night-glasses, announced that they seemed to be passing over some city.

Tom had studied their intended course so thoroughly that he was able to tell with more or less accuracy what some of those places were. In so doing he always kept in mind the probable speed at which the big plane was traveling.

They had veered a little, and would not come anywhere near Liverpool or Dublin, as Jack had suspected might be the case until he looked over the chart Tom had marked. On the contrary, their new course would carry them over the south of England, and just cut across the lower part of Ireland; indeed, the latter might have been skipped entirely with profit to themselves in miles gained, only it seemed natural they should want to keep in touch with land just as long as possible.

How steadily the giant plane moved majestically through the realms of space several miles above the earth! Tom found himself fascinated by the working of the motors from the very minute he first heard them take up their steady labor. Surely, if the feat were at all within the bounds of possibilities, they had, as Lieutenant Beverly said, "a fighting chance."

Of course there was always impending danger. Any one of a score of accidents was liable to happen, especially after the engines had been constantly working hour after hour.

Such things may bother an aviator when over the enemy's country, because if a landing seems necessary in order to avoid a fatal drop, there must always arise the risk of capture. How much more serious would even the smallest engine trouble become, once they were far out over the ocean with nothing in sight as far as the eye could reach save an endless vastness of rolling waters beneath, and passing clouds overhead?

Tom, however, would not allow himself to brood upon these possibilities, and when they flashed across his mind he persistently banished them. Sufficient to the day was the evil thereof; and if difficulties arose they must meet them bravely, doing the best they could, and accepting the results in the spirit of Columbus, who was the pioneer in spanning the Atlantic.

Jack now made a discovery that caused him to call out again.

"I believe we've left the land again, and it's water down under us right now, fellows!" he called shrilly, his voice sounding above the clamor by which they were continually surrounded.

"Well, according to my calculations," said Tom, "we should be about quit of England and striking the Irish Sea at its junction with the Atlantic. It's that you believe you see right now."

"Then before long we'll glimpse Ireland's lights!" cried the exultant
Jack. "Though we're likely to pass over only the city of Cork as we dash
on for the big sea beyond. So far everything is moving like grease,
Lieu—Colin."

"I promised you it would," the pilot told him. "And let's hope it keeps up this way all the way through."

Again they ceased trying to talk since it proved such an effort without resorting to the little wireless telephone arrangement. Jack did notify them, however, when he believed he sighted tiny specks far below that he took for the lights of some place of consequence; but Tom, who knew better, assured him he must be mistaken.

"You're straining your eyes so much you mistake other things for lights, Jack," he told the observer. "It might even be the reflection of the stars on the glasses of your binoculars. We're not near Cork yet, and there's no other place worth mentioning that we'll come near. Rest up, Jack."

"Plenty of time for that after we've struck out over the ocean," came
Jack's defiant answer.

Later on he again declared he saw lights. They had been speeding for some hours at a rate of more than sixty miles, which was good time for one of those monster heavily laden bombers to make.

"Yes, I imagine it's Cork this time," said Tom, when appealed to. "We veer to the left here, and pass out to sea over Queenstown, don't we, Colin?"

"According to our mapped-out plan that's the course," came the reply, as the pilot shifted his levers, and headed a little more toward the south.

Their sensations at that particular time were very acute. It was as if they had reached the dividing line, and were about to enter upon a course that would admit of no turning back.

"There, the last glimmer of light has disappeared!" finally cried Jack in an awed tone, "and we're heading out over the Atlantic, bound for America!"