The _Arrow_ rose slowly, and John leaned back luxuriously in his seat.
He had a singular feeling that he had come back home again. The sharp,
acrid odor that assailed eye and nostril departed and the atmosphere
grew rapidly purer. The rolling waves of air from the concussion of the
guns became much less violent, and soon ceased entirely. All the smoke
floated below him, while above the heavens were a shining blue,
unsullied by the dust and flame of the conflict.
"Do you go far, Philip?" John asked.
"Forty miles. I could cover the distance quickly in the _Arrow_, but on
such a day as this I can't be sure of finding at once the man for whom
I'm looking. Besides, we may meet German planes. You've your automatic
with you?"
"I'm never without it. I'm ready to help if they come at us. I've been
through so much today that I've become blunted to fear."
"I don't think we'll meet an enemy, but we must be armed and watchful."
John had not yet looked down, but he knew that the _Arrow_ was rising
high. The thunder of the battle died so fast that it became a mere
murmur, and the air was thin, pure and cold. When he felt that the
_Arrow_ had reached its zenith he put the glasses to his eyes and looked
over.
He saw a world spouting fire. Along a tremendous line curved and broken,
thousands of cannon great and small were flashing, and for miles and
miles a continuous coil of whitish smoke marked where the riflemen were
at work.
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