II

  The officers returned to their dug-out.

  "Your colleague hasn't had your luck, Burton," said Adams. "It's morethan a pity. He had evidently spotted a fresh battery. The Huns willhave time to conceal it unless some one else spots it and tips us thewink."

  They went outside and scanned the sky. No aeroplane was in sight.

  "I think I'd better go up," said Burton. "I'm off duty to-day, but itwould be a pity to lose the chance. The new battery must have beenvisible from where he saw your target. I ought to be able to find it ifI go at once."

  "A good idea! We might smash it before it gets to work. You'd better'phone your flight commander. I'll lend you my trench map."

  Burton hurried to the telephone room. In a few minutes he returned.

  "O.K.," he said, "but I'll have to go alone. My observer's away, andthere's no one else handy."

  "That's awkward. You can't pilot and work the wireless too."

  "Perhaps not, but if I can spot the battery I can return with myobserver to-morrow, and then we'll be able to set you to work on it."

  "Good! You've seen what we can do."

  "Well, not exactly seen; but apparently it wasn't a pigsty this time.Look out for me in an hour or so."

  He returned to the house, remounted, and rode back rapidly to theaerodrome. There he explained the circumstances at greater length to hisflight commander, set the mechanics to work, and within ten minutes wasready to start.

  "We're in for a storm, I fancy," said his commander as he got into hisplace; "but perhaps you'll be back before it breaks."

  The weather had gradually changed. The sky had become thick, the air wassultry and oppressive. As Burton climbed in a wide spiral it was likegoing from a Turkish bath into the cooling room, fresh and exhilarating.He circled over the aerodrome until he had attained an altitude of sixor seven thousand feet, then steered towards the German lines, stillrising steadily. The spot for which he was making was four or fivemiles away. Soon the bewildering network of the British trenches glidedaway beneath him. Then the German trenches came into view. On theroads behind he noticed tiny black specks moving this way andthat--supply wagons, no doubt, or motor-cars bringing up fresh men.

  The whirr of his engine was broken into by something like the sound of apop-gun. He looked around; a woolly ball of smoke hung in the air on hisright. Immediately afterwards there were more pops, and the ball becamethe centre of a cluster. Burton swerved to the left, then dodged a longroll of greenish-yellow smoke with a red tongue of flame in the centre.The German "Archies" were at work. He flew on, swinging from side toside, until he calculated that he was about three miles behind the frontline of trenches. Then he turned at right angles and commenced amethodical search of the ground stretched like a patchwork quilt belowhim. Here was a brown patch of plough-land, then a blob of vivid greendenoting grass, or one of green speckled with white--an orchard in theblossom of spring. In the distance the silvery streak of a riverpursued its winding way. A train was rolling across it, like a toytrain on a toy bridge.

  A dark mass below him broke apart, resolving itself into individualdots. "Afraid of bombs," he thought. At the spot where the centre ofthe crowd had been, the ground appeared to be blackened. "Shouldn'twonder if that's the missing aeroplane," he thought. "It caught fire,or they've burnt it. But where's that new battery? Things are gettinghot." Shells were bursting all about him. Now and then the machinelurched, and he looked round anxiously to see the extent of the damage.A few wires, perhaps, were hanging loose; a few rents gaped in thefabric; nothing serious as yet. But it was getting very uncomfortable.

  Up and down he flew, feeling the strain of doing double work. With hismap pinned down in front of him he scanned the ground for some newfeature. Ah! What is that? Peering through his glasses he descries agroup of men in suspicious activity about a clump of bushes. Theyscatter as he passes over. A shell sets the machine rocking. He swingsround and soars over the spot again, even venturing to descend a fewhundred feet. The clump is not marked on the map. What is that in themiddle of it? The flight has carried him beyond it before he can answerthe question; but he turns again, and circles over the place. There issomething unnatural in the appearance of the bushes. The shells arebursting thicker than ever. Something cracks just behind his seat. Buthe thrills as he realises that his reconnaissance has succeeded. "Thebattery is hidden in that clump, or I'm a Dutchman."

  He marked the spot on his map, moved the elevator, soared aloft, andsteered for home, making a circuit northward to avoid an anti-aircraftgun that lay directly between him and the aerodrome. And now for thefirst time he was aware that the threatening storm was about to burst.The westerly wind had increased in force; the sky was blacker; hugewaves of cloud were rolling eastward. He flew into the wind and triedto rise above the clouds. Suddenly Heaven's artillery thundered aroundhim; there was a blinding flash; he was conscious of pain as though hehad received a heavy blow; then for a while he was lost to all abouthim.

  When he partly recovered his senses and tried to regain control of themachine he was in a state of bewilderment. The aeroplane was nearlyupside down. He scarcely knew which was top and which bottom. Hestruggled to right the machine: when he succeeded, with great creakingof the controls, he was alarmed to see that he was within a few hundredfeet of the ground, above a wood. Exercising all his self-command hemanaged to swerve clear of the tree-tops, and in another moment or twothe machine came to the ground with a bump that seemed to shake out ofplace every bone in his body.

  Half dazed, he unstrapped himself with trembling fingers and scrambledfrom his seat. Rain was pouring in a deluge. The sky was black asnight. His feet had just touched the sodden soil when he became awareof a number of figures rushing towards him from the undergrowth.Fumbling for his revolver, he was felled by a shrewd blow.

  THE BRITISH WAY]

  Again he lost consciousness for a moment. Then he heard an Englishvoice.

  "You silly blighter! Couldn't you see?"

  "He was going to shoot."

  "Well, what of it? He couldn't hit a haystack. Didn't you see he wasfair crumpled with the fall?"

  "You may talk, but I wasn't going to be shot in mistake for a bloomin'Hun."

  "I tell you any fool could see he was one of ours. I was sure of it.You ought to have made sure--striking your superior officer."

  "Silence, you men!" called an authoritative voice. An officer had comeup from the shelter of the wood. "The noise you are making can be hearda mile off. You'll bring the whole Hun army down on us."

  As a matter of fact, the men had begun by speaking in stage whispers,their tones becoming louder and louder in their excitement as thealtercation proceeded.

  Burton rose stiffly and painfully to his feet.

  "Beg pardon, sir," sheepishly muttered the man who had knocked him down."It's raining so hard----"

  "That's all right," Burton interposed. "Where am I?"

  "It's you, Burton!" said the officer. "Come among the trees. You men,lug the aeroplane in; the rain's so thick that perhaps the Huns haven'tseen where it fell."

  "But we're in no danger in our own lines?" said Burton in surprise.

  "We aren't in our own lines," rejoined the officer, dragging Burton intothe wood. "We're marooned."

  "Gad, Hedley, are you the missing platoon?"

  "Yes; I'll tell you."

  "Let me have a look at the machine first. By George! I thought I wasdone for."

  "It was a narrow squeak. But you've always had wonderful luck. Here'sthe machine. What's the damage?"

  Burton examined the aeroplane and gave a rueful shrug.

  "Two holes in the engine cowl, a dozen in the planes, bracing wires shotaway; they don't cripple her, but the worst thing is that one of thelanding wheels is buckled. She's useless till that is put right."

  "Well, perhaps we can get that done for you. You seem as badly crockedas the mach
ine, and no wonder."

  "But tell me, Hedley, where are we? And how did you get here?"

  "Tell you by and by," said Hedley, who spoke in whispers and showedother signs of nervous apprehension. "Come on."

  "But I can't leave the machine."

  "You must. We can't take it with us. It won't be found while the rainlasts."

  "I can't fly back unless I get this wheel straightened."

  "All right. Stanbridge," he said, calling up a short, sturdily-builtcorporal, "get that buckled wheel off. Quick work!"

  "Very good, sir."

  "You'll find some tools on board," said Burton.

  "And don't make a row," Hedley added.

  It was the work of only a few minutes to detach the wheel. There was noconversation; everybody showed nervous impatience; two or three men keptwatch at the edge of the wood.

  "Now then," said Hedley.

  He led the way, groping through the wood. Burton followed on his heels:he felt himself a compendium of aches. Rain was still falling. Throughit could be seen the blurred lights of a distant building. A short walkbrought the party to what appeared to be a thick hedge of bramblebounding a field. There was a whispered challenge.

  "Potsdam," whispered Hedley in return, giving the password.

  He turned, took Burton by the arm, and guided him through an openingwhich had suddenly disclosed itself in the bramble hedge. A sentrystood aside; the party filed in. Burton found himself moving down asharp declivity, which by and by opened out into a spacious cave, lit bya single candle-lamp. Two or three men got up from the stools on whichthey had been sitting. The floor was roughly boarded. A table stood inthe centre. Along one side were a number of large wooden bins.

  "We sleep on them," said Hedley. "Rather stuffy quarters, you perceive."

  "Concentrated essence of earth and candle smoke," said Burton, sniffing.

  "Also bacon fat and the smell of our cooker. Sit down, you shall havesomething to eat and drink in a jiffy."

  "You won't forget the wheel?"

  "No. Stanbridge, get that wheel put right."

  Among any score of British soldiers there will usually be found afactotum who can turn his hand to anything. It was not otherwise withthese men of the Rutland Light Infantry. Having seen the work started,Hedley heaved a sigh of relief.

  "Now we can talk," he said.