“An armored machine with two men and a light rapid fire gun in it.  Beyond a doubt it will circle about our tree.”

The plane was very near now, and assuredly it was German.  John could discern the Teutonic cast of their countenances, as the two men in it leaned over and looked at the flag.  They dropped lower and lower and then flew in circles about the tree.  John, despite his anxiety and suspense, could not fail to notice the humorous phase of it.  The plane certainly could not effect a landing in the boughs, and if it descended to the ground in order that one of their number might get out, climb the tree and capture the flag, they would incur the danger of a sudden swoop from French machines.  Besides, the flag would be of no value to them, unless they knew who put it there and why.

“The Germans, of course, see that it’s a French flag,” he said to Weber.  “I wonder what they’re going to do.”

“I think they’ll have to leave it,” said Weber, “because I can now see other aeroplanes to the west, aeroplanes which may be French, and they dare not linger too long.”

“And our little flag may make a big disturbance in the heavens.”

“So it seems.”

The German plane made circle after circle around the tree, finally drew off to some distance, and then, as it wavered back and forth, its machine gun began to spit fire.  Little boughs and leaves cut from the tree fell to the ground, but the flag, untouched, fluttered defiantly in the light breeze.

“They’re trying to shoot it down,” said John, “and with such an unsteady gun platform they’ve missed every time.”

“I doubt whether they’ll continue firing,” said Weber.  “An aeroplane doesn’t carry any great amount of ammunition and they can’t afford to waste much.”

“They’re through now,” said John.  “See, they’re flying away toward the east, and unless my imagination deceives me, their machine actually looks crestfallen, while our flag is snapping away in the wind, haughty and defiant.”

“A vivid fancy yours, Mr. Scott, but it’s easy to imagine that German machine looking cheap, because that’s just the way the men on board it must feel.  Suppose we sit down here and take our ease.  No flying man can see through those vines over our heads, and we can watch in safety.  We’re sure to draw other scouts of the air, while for us it’s an interesting and comparatively safe experience.”

“Our flag is certainly an attraction,” said John, making himself comfortable on the ground.  “There’s a bird of passage now, coming down from the north as swift as a swallow.”

“It’s a little monoplane,” said Weber, “and it certainly resembles a swallow, as it comes like a flash toward this tree.  I thought at first it might be Lannes in the Arrow, but the plane is too small, and it’s of German make.”

“I fancy it won’t linger long.  This is not a healthy bit of space for lone fellows in monoplanes.”