The Hosts of the Air   By: Joseph Alexander Altsheler (1862-1919)

THE HOSTS OF THE AIR

The Story of a Quest in the Great War

by

JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER

Author of The Guns Of Europe , The Forest Of Swords , etc.

Illustrated by CHARLES WRENN

D. Appleton and Company New York and London

1915

[Illustration: The Hosts of the Air]

THE CIVIL WAR SERIES

The Star of Gettysburg The Guns of Bull Run The Guns of Shiloh The Scouts of Stonewall The Sword of Antietam The Rock of Chickamauga

THE WORLD WAR SERIES

The Guns of Europe The Hosts of the Air The Forest of Swords

THE YOUNG TRAILERS SERIES

The Young Trailers The Forest Runners The Free Rangers The Riflemen of the Ohio The Scouts of the Valley The Border Watch

THE TEXAN SERIES

The Texan Star The Texan Scouts The Texan Triumph

Apache Gold The Quest of the Four The Last of the Chiefs In Circling Camps A Soldier of Manhattan The Sun of Saratoga A Herald of the West The Wilderness Road My Captive

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK

FOREWORD

"The Hosts of the Air" is the third and concluding volume of the World War Series, of which "The Forest of Swords" and "The Guns of Europe" were the predecessors. It deals primarily with the love story of John Scott and Julie Lannes, but all the characters of the earlier books reappear in this romance also.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. THE TRENCH 1 II. THE YOUNG AUSTRIAN 25 III. JULIE'S COMING 45 IV. THE HOTEL AT CHASTEL 70 V. THE REGISTER 87 VI. JOHN'S RESOLVE 108 VII. THE PURSUIT 128 VIII. INTO GERMANY 160 IX. THE GREAT CASTLE 179 X. THE FAIR CAPTIVE 200 XI. THE EFFICIENT HOSTLER 225 XII. THE HUNTING LODGE 248 XIII. THE DANGEROUS FLIGHT 278 XIV. THE HAPPY ESCAPE 299

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

The Hosts of the Air, Frontispiece

"Once they came to the very edge of the trench to be slain there" 28

"'You! You! Is it really you?' she cried" 260

"Now the aeroplanes flew at almost incredible speed, the Arrow always at their head", 332

CHAPTER I

THE TRENCH

A young man was shaving. His feet rested upon a broad plank embedded in mud, and the tiny glass in which he saw himself hung upon a wall of raw, reeking earth. A sky, somber and leaden, arched above him, and now and then flakes of snow fell in the sodden trench, but John Scott went on placidly with his task.

The face that looked back at him had been changed greatly in the last six months. The smoothness of early youth was gone for the time and serious lines showed about the mouth and eyes. His cheeks were thinner and there was a slight sinking at the temples, telling of great privations, and of dangers endured. But the features were much stronger. The six months had been in effect six years. The boy of Dresden had become the man of the trenches.

He finished, rubbed his hand over his face to satisfy himself that the last trace of young beard and mustache was gone, put away his shaving materials in a little niche that he had dug with his own hands in the wall of the trench, and turned to the Englishman.

"Am I all right, Carstairs?" he asked.

"You do very well. There's mud on your boots, but I suppose you can't help it. The melting snow in our trench makes soggy footing in spite of all we can do. But you're trim, Scott. That new gray uniform with the blue threads running through it becomes you. All the Strangers are thankful for the change. It's a great improvement over those long blue coats and baggy red trousers."