"By Jove, he's coming down. Something wrong—look! He's hit the ground—see the dust?" And similar exclamations rose from the crowd.
"Take my car, Johnson, and see what's wrong, will you?" said the Flight Commander—and in a moment the car was speeding across the plain.
"Look! Look!" shouted some one. "See the dust he's making!" In another moment the monoplane was seen in the air.
"By Jove, he's up again. Splendid! That's the first time this machine has left the ground single-handed, I'll bet. He's coming back."
In a minute or two the aeroplane began to descend. It brought up nearly on the spot it had started from.
Jim clambered down, and to the volley of questions from his brother officers merely explained that he had dropped his note-book, and had descended to pick it up.
"Look here, Major," Jim said to the Commandant. "I want to take my servant, Jackson, instead of young Hayward, but I don't like to tell him myself. Will you break it to him gently?"
"Good lord, Crichton, why on earth did you not say so before? Why do you prefer Jackson?"
"I shall have a much better chance with Jackson if I have to descend with engine trouble, because he's a trained mechanic, as you know, while young Hayward would be practically useless. I don't want to be stuck in the middle of Dartmoor, you know!"
"All right, I'll tell him; but it's rather rough on him, all the same."