“Tell us what you mean, please?” begged the excited Jack.

“Take things coolly, to begin with,” warned the other; “because what I’m going to say will almost stun you at first, I suppose. But it’s no new idea with me. Fact is, I’d planned it all out in my mind long ago; had it more than half arranged at the time I ordered that monster Martin bomber built at my own expense and shipped over to France.”

“Yes,” muttered Jack, while he kept his eyes glued hungrily on the flushed face of the other.

Tom said nothing, but looked as though he already half guessed what was coming, if the eager and expectant gleam in his eyes signified anything.

“I explained to you,” the lieutenant continued steadily, “that the big bomber was equipped for a trip to Berlin and back; and went so far as to say the flight could be repeated without making a landing, if there was any need of such a thing. All right, then; in a pinch, properly loaded with plenty of gasoline and stores, that machine would be able to take three fellows like you two and myself all the way across the Atlantic, and land us on American soil! Get that, do you, Jack?”

No one said a word for half a minute. The proposition was so astounding that it might well have appalled the stoutest heart. At that time no one had attempted to cross the Atlantic in a heavier-than-air plane, a feat later on successfully accomplished. Nobody had piloted the way in a Yankee-made seaplane; nor had any one navigated the air passage in a monster dirigible. The three thousand miles of atmosphere lying between Europe and America still stood an uncharted sea of vapor, where every imaginable evil might lie in wait for the modern Columbus of aerial navigation.

Then Jack drew a long breath. The lieutenant was watching the play of emotion across his face, and he knew the seed had been sown in good ground, where it was bound to take root. Jack’s extremity would be his, Lieutenant Beverly’s, opportunity. So he returned to the attack, meaning to “strike while the iron was hot.”

“It staggers you at first, of course, Jack,” he said, in his confident, convincing way. “But why should it? The danger is great, but nothing more than we’re up against every day we set out for the clouds to give battle to a tricky Hun ace, who may send us down to our death. And I assure you we’d have at least a fighting chance to get across. What do you say, Jack?”

For answer the other whirled on his chum. His face was lighted up with that sudden and unexpected renewal of hope, just when it had seemed as though he had fallen into the pit of despair.

“Tom, would it be madness, do you think?” he cried, clutching the other by the arm, his fingers trembling, his eyes beseeching.

“We’d have a fair chance of making it, just as Colin says,” Tom slowly answered. “Much would of course depend on contrary winds; and there’d be fighting in the fog banks we’d surely strike. But Jack, ”

“Yes, Tom?” gasped the other, hanging on his chum’s words eagerly, as one might to the timbers of a slender bridge that offered a slim chance to reach a longed-for harbor.

“If you decide to accept the venture I’m with you!” finished Tom.

At that the eager flight lieutenant showed the utmost enthusiasm.

“Call it settled then, Jack, so we can get busy working out the programme!” he begged, again insisting upon gripping a hand of each.

Jack found himself carried along with the current. He could not well have resisted had he so desired, which was far from being the case. It seemed to him as though he were on a vessel which had drifted for hours in the baffling fog, and then all of a sudden the veil of mist parted, to show him the friendly shore beyond, just the haven for which he was bound.

“It is, perhaps, a desperate attempt to make such a flight on short notice,” Jack said. “But think! If we succeed! And think, too, of that schemer winning the prize! Yes, Tom, since you’ve already agreed to stand in with me, I say go!”

After that a fever seemed to burn in Jack’s veins, due to the sudden revulsion of feeling from despair to hope. He asked many questions, and for an hour the three talked the matter over, looking at the possibilities from every conceivable angle.

Tom was not so sanguine of success as either of his mates; but he kept his doubts to himself. As an ambitious airman he was thrilled by the vastness of the scheme. As Lieutenant Beverly had truly remarked, while it held chances of disaster, they were accepting just as many challenges to meet their death every day of their service as battleplane pilots.

Then again it seemed to be the only hope offered to poor Jack; and Tom was bound to stick by his chum through thick and thin. So he fell in with the great scheme, and listened while the flight lieutenant touched upon every feature of the contemplated flight.

Luckily it was no new idea with him, for he had spent much time and labor in figuring it all out to a fraction, barring hazards of which they could of course know nothing until they were met.

“I’ve got all the charts necessary,” he assured them, after they had about exhausted the subject, with Jack more enthusiastic than ever. “And while you boys are waiting to receive your official notifications, which ought surely to come to-morrow, since there was a hurry mark on them, I noticed, I’ll rush over to the coast and see that additional supplies of fuel and food are put aboard.”

“Don’t stint the gas, above everything,” urged Jack. “We’d be in a pretty pickle to run out while still five hundred miles from shore. If it was only a big seaplane now, such as we hear they’re building over in America, we might drop down on a smooth sea and wait to be picked up by some ship; but with a bomber, it would mean going under in a hurry.”

“Make your mind easy on that score, Jack,” came the lieutenant’s reply. “I’ll figure to the limit, and then if the plane can carry another fifty gallons it’ll go aboard in the reserve reservoir. I’m taking no chances that can be avoided. There’ll be enough to bother us, most likely. And, for one, I’m not calculating on committing suicide. I hope to live to come back here aboard some ship, and see the finish of this big, exciting scrap.”

Tom liked to hear him talk in that serene way. It showed that Lieutenant Colin Beverly, while a daring aviator was not to be reckoned a reckless one; and there is a vast difference between the two. Tom was of very much the same temperament himself, as was proved in past stirring incidents in his career, known to all those who have followed the fortunes of the Air Service Boys in previous books of this series.

“Is there anything else to confer about?” asked Tom. “Because I can see you’re itching to get away, Colin.”

“Not a thing, as far as I know,” came the reply. “If any fresh idea happens to strike me I’ll have it on tap when you arrive. Are you sure you’ve got the directions how to get to Dunkirk, and then how to find my secret hangar on the coast beyond the town, Tom?”

“We’ll be ready to skip out just as soon as our official notice comes to hand,” the other assured him.

“That’s the only thing bothering me just now,” observed Jack. “Any delay there might ruin our plans at the last minute. As it is, we’re not apt to have any too much time to beat the steamer to New York.”

“I expect you to show up to-morrow night, and then we can slip away unnoticed in the dark,” said the lieutenant. “I’ve kept tabs on the weather conditions, as it’s always been a fad with me; and I’m happy to say there seems to be no storm in prospect, while the winds are apt to be favorable, coming from the east, a rare thing these fall days. So-long, boys, and here’s success to our jolly little flight!”

After he had left them Jack turned on his comrade to say:

“It seems to be our only chance, and not a long one at that; but I’m bent on trying it out. Anything to beat Randolph to the tape, Tom!”