He had no anxiety about
Guynemer, with whom he had frequently attacked enemy squadrons of five,
six, or even ten or twelve one-seaters. The two-seater might, no doubt,
be more dangerous, and Guynemer had recently seemed nervous and below
par; but in a fight his presence of mind, infallibility of movement, and
quickness of eye were sure to come back, and the two-seater could hardly
escape its doom.
The last image imprinted on the eyes of Bozon-Verduraz was of Guynemer
and the German both spinning down, Guynemer in search of a chance to
shoot, the other hoping to be helped from down below. Then
Bozon-Verduraz had flown in the direction of the eight one-seaters, and
the group had fallen apart, chasing him. In time the eight machines
became mere specks in the illimitable sky, and Bozon-Verduraz, seeing he
had achieved his object, flew back to where his chief was no doubt
waiting for him. But there was nobody in the empty space. Could it be
that the German had escaped? With deadly anguish oppressing him, the
airman descended nearer the ground to get a closer view. Down below
there was nothing, no sign, none of the bustle which always follows the
falling of an airplane.
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