A tired old horse stood in front of a hay pile, making the most out of the only food available to it.  The hay stood outside the remains of a barn.  It had recently been all but destroyed by German mortars.

The barn belonged to a far, not far from the French village Michael and Bruce had left behind.  The farm was an unfortunate victim of World War I.

A whistling sound pierced the air and very quickly became louder and louder.  The horse had heard enough mortars recently to recognize the sound as dangerous.  It trotted off in the direction of a nearby field.

The whistle became louder---louder---ear-splitting.  But no explosion came.  Instead, Bruce and Michael flew through the air onto the pile of hay.  The whistling came to an end.

Michael stretched out his arms and legs and smiled in the direction of the sky.  "A soft landing at last!" he exclaimed.

Bruce sat up and looked around. He brushed some hay from his hair and shoulders.

"Green light?" he asked.

Michael looked at the Omni.  "No," he said.  "It's blinking red."

Sitting on top of the haystack, they couldn't see the plane in the distance behind them.  It was headed straight for them.

"How could it be red?" Bruce said.  "We put Orville and Wilbur on the right track!  It had to work!"

"The red light could mean something else is wrong," Michael said calmly.  "We'll find out soon enough."

It turned out to be sooner than he thought.  The red plane was nearly upon them, and it opened fire.

Clumps of hay spat into the air as the machine gun bullets tore into the mound.

Michael moved with his usual swiftness, even though he had no idea what was happening.  He grabbed Bruce's arm and pulled him from the mound down to the ground.

The plane was ahead of them now, rising from its dive.  They scrambled into the half-demolished barn and looked up at their attacker.

"Terrific!" Michael bellowed.  "Wonderful!  We get airplanes into the war so they can blow us to bits!"

"It's red!" Bruce said excitedly.

"What is?" Michael asked, staring after the plane.

"The plane is red!" Bruce answered.

"Of course it is!  I can see that!  What's that got to do with anything?"

"Gotta be von Richtofen," Bruce said, looking up in awe.

"Richtofen?" Michael said.  "Who's that?"

"Von Richtofen is a German flying ace," Bruce said slowly, as if he were speaking to a child.  "He's the one and only Red Baron!"

The plane was out of sight now.  Bruce was about to explain who the Red Baron was, when he looked out the other side of the barn.

"Look!" he cried.

Two biplanes sat side by side in a field.  They could see four people, and two of them seemed to be wounded.  The other two were dragging them in the direction of a wooded area.

Michael and Bruce ran in their direction.  When they got closer, they saw that the two healthy ones weren't strangers.

"Ralph!" Bruce panted.

"Elise!" Michael said.

They ran faster.  As they got closer, Bruce recognized the two planes.  He'd seen pictures in his World War I history books.

They were both two seaters.  Both had the markings of the 94th Aero Squadron.  One of the planes had a machine gun mounted in the rear.

"Ralph!" Bruce called.  "Elise!"

The four people stopped and turned.  Ralph and Elise lowered the two men to the ground.

The upper part of Ralph's right sleeve was covered with blood.  Bruce and Michael ran up to them, Bruce calling their names over and over.  Ralph and Elise stared at them in confusion.

"Who are you?" Ralph asked.

"Who am I?  I'm Bruce.  Bruce Wayne!"

"Save your breath, kid," Michael said softly. "That was another world---that's why they don't remember us."

He stepped forward and held out his hand to Hinkley. "Michael Strogoff, at your service," he said.  "This is my son, Bruce."

Bruce's eyes lit up.  He stood a little more erect, proud to hear himself referred to that way.  Michael and Hinkley shook hands.

"We're here to help you get out," Michael said.  Then he asked, "Are you okay?" motioning towards Ralph's bleeding arm.

Ralph looked in the direction of the two soldiers under the tree.  "I'm alive," he said simply.

They were interrupted by the roar of an engine overhead.  They looked up to see von Richtofen's plane bearing down on them.

"Hit the dirt!" Ralph roared.

The four of them fell face down on the ground.   The plane swooped down on them, passing over the four figures not fifteen feet off the ground.

The noise was deafening, and the wind created by the plane didn't help matters.  But Bruce and Michael were waiting for a burst of machine gunfire, and it never came.

They looked up to watch the plane soar back into the sky.  As they did, they saw something fall from the cockpit.

"Why didn't he fire?" Elise asked, getting to her feet.

"He wants me," Hinkley said. He got up and stared after the plane.  Then he walked over and picked up the thing that had dropped from the plane.

It was a black leather glove.  Ralph held it high for the others to see.

"It's a challenge," he said.  "From the top Hun ace to the top Yankee ace."

Bruce stepped forward, a worried look on his face.  "You can't fight him in one of these," he said, gesturing towards the two planes.  "He'll destroy you!"

"Don't worry, kid," Michael said.  "He's not going to."  To Ralph, he said, "Take off your jacket and scarf.  At this distance, he'll never know the distance."

Ralph stared at him for a few second, then smiled a little.  "Don't even think about it, pal," he said.

Michael stepped up to him and grabbed one wounded arm.  Ralph wince in pain.

"You're in no shape to take him on," Michael said.  "Maybe if you had your own plane, but not in one of those crates."

Ralph looked thoughtfully at the two planes.  Then he looked at his bleeding arm.  

"You fly Elise out of here," Michael said. "We'll take care of the Baron."

Ralph hesitated, trying to weigh all the factors in his mind.  Michael didn't want to give him a chance to think too long about the decision.

"You can ger Elise out of here alive," Michael said.  "That makes it worth a shot."

Ralph nodded, then pulled off his scarf and his jacket.  Michael put them on quickly.  Then he took the leather glove that Ralph held out to him.

"Do you know how to fly one of these?" Ralph asked.

Michael chuckled.  "Did Benjamin Franklin know how to write?" he asked.

He looked up at the sky.  There was no sign of the Red Baron just now.

"Suppose we let you go up first," Michael said.  "Will he wait for me?"

"Yes," Ralph said.  "From what we know of the Baron, he doesn't fire on unarmed planes.  Must be he's got a code of honor or something.  He'll let us pass."

"Then get moving," Michael said.

Ralph started towards the plane.  Then he turned back to Michael and held out his hand.  Michael grasped it.

"Good luck, pal," Ralph said.

Elise bent down to face Bruce. She kissed him on the nose.

"I don't know who you are, kid," she said. "But thanks a million.  And good luck."

She stood and walked to Michael, who was standing near the armed plane. They gazed into each other's eyes.

"I've got the funniest feeling we've met before somewhere," she said.

Michael laughed softly. "Maybe in another life," he said.

She stepped up to him and they kissed.  Then he helped her into the plane, where Ralph was watching to take off.

They watched the plane taxi out onto the field.  Then it began a straight run, going faster and faster, until it was off the ground.  Elise and Bruce waved to each other.

When the plane was almost out of sigh, Bruce said, "Why did you lie to him?  You couldn't even fly the glider!"

"I didn't lie," Michael said, buttoning up his pilot's jacket. "I never lie.  Did you ever try to read Benjamin Franklin's handwriting?"548Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIRNXqnCw4M