The two or three civilians with note-books in their hands were evidently pressmen. Something unusual was afoot, for half a dozen horsemen had just cantered into the aerodrome and, dismounting, approached the little crowd round the monoplane.
Suddenly it opened out and the group of officers saluted the smart, iron-featured, white-haired veteran who approached with a slight limp, his beribboned coat eloquent of hard service to the wealthy citizens of a thankless nation who greedily devour the spoils that they are too lazy in lending a hand in obtaining.
"Good-morning, gentlemen. Is Lieutenant Crichton here?"
Jim stepped forward and saluted. He was in service dress, with a safety helmet in place of the usual forage cap.
"Well, I hope the weather is satisfactory, Crichton?" the Chief said.
"Yes, sir, thank you; it is a perfect day for a flight."
The General then asked several technical questions about the monoplane. "You are taking a passenger with you, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
The General turned away, and Crichton saluted. Quite a number of people were arriving from every direction, and it had evidently become generally known that a special flight was about to be attempted.
Meanwhile the monoplane was ready. Jim climbed into his seat and started the engine. In a few moments he gave the signal to let go, and after running along the ground for a short distance, it gracefully rose in the air and was soon far over the plain. Suddenly it dipped and began to descend.