of order, and for the third time went up again, scouring the sky for two more hours, indignant to see nothing but prudent Germans keeping far out of his reach.  So, he had flown five hours and a half in that one day.  What nerves could stand such a strain?  But Guynemer, seeking victory, cared little for strain or nerves.  Everything seemed to go against him:  Heurtaux away, his best machine not available, his machine-guns out of order, and Germans refusing his challenge.  No wonder if he fretted himself into increased irritation.

* * * * *

Guynemer liked Lieutenant Raymond, and every now and then flew with him.  This officer being on leave, Guynemer on September 8 asked another favorite comrade, sous-lieutenant Bozon-Verduraz, to accompany him.  The day was sullen, and a thick fog soon parted the two aviators, who lost their way and only managed to get clear of the fog when Bozon-Verduraz was over Nieuport and Guynemer over Ostend.

September 9 was a Sunday, and Guynemer over-slept and had to be roused by a friend.

“Aren’t you coming to mass?”

“Of course.”

The two officers went to mass at Saint-Pol-sur-Mer, and the weather having grown worse Guynemer did not fly; but instead of enjoying the enforced rest, he resented it as a personal wrong.  Next day he flew three times, and was unlucky again every time.  On his first flight, on his two-gun machine, he found that the water-pump control did not work, and had to land on a Belgian aerodrome, where he was welcomed and asked to sit for his photograph.  The picture shows a worried, tense, disquieting countenance under the mask ready to be pulled down.  After frightening the enemy so long, Guynemer was now frightening his friends.

[Illustration:  “GOING WEST”]

The photograph taken, Guynemer flew back to camp.  The best for him, under the circumstances, would have been to wait.  Was he not hourly to hear that he might go to the Buc works for his machine?  And what was the use of flying on an unsatisfactory airplane?  But Guynemer was not in Flanders to wait.  He wanted his quarry, and he wanted to set an example to and galvanize his men, and even the infantry.  So, Deullin being absent, Guynemer borrowed his machine, and at last discovered a chain of German flyers, whom he attacked regardless of their number.  But four bullets hit his machine and one damaged the air-pump, an accident which not only compelled him to land but to return by motor to the aerodrome.  Once more, instead of listening to the whisper of wisdom, he started, on Lieutenant Lagache’s machine; and this time the annoyance was the gasoline spurting over the loose top of the carburetor.  The oil caught fire, and Guynemer had to give in, having failed three times, and having been in the air five hours and a half on unsatisfactory airplanes.  No wonder if, with the weather, the machines, and circumstances generally against him, he felt tired and nervous.  He had never done so much with such poor results.  But his will, his will cannot accept what is forced upon him, and we may be sure that he will not acknowledge himself beaten.