"
Every conversation around that part of the world seemed to have a
grim flavor. The Brighton boys were getting nearer to actual war
every minute, they felt.
The boys found a row of S.P.A.D. machines not far distant. The
"Spads," as the aviators called them, were fleet biplanes. They
found a genial airman to tell them something of the planes, which
he described as the latest type of French fighting aeroplane. "This
sort has less wing surface than any machine we have had here," said
the airman. "It is mighty fast. These four have just come back from
a good pull of work. I think this lot were all that is left of two
dozen that were attached to the B squadron just before the last
big push."
"Cheerful beggar!" spoke up another pilot within earshot. "Are you
trying to impress a bunch of newcomers?" He walked toward the boys.
"Are you not some of the crowd that got in last night?"
"Yes," answered Bob Haines. "We're the Brighton Academy bunch. We
have just come over from home.
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