There was only one thing to do. The way out being closed, I must get away in the car.
"It doesn't matter, Harden. After all it's not necessary, you know."
"I'm afraid it would take an hour or two at least," he said, looking up from the engine. "I'm really most annoyed about it."
"Well, I'll stroll back to my car, I've left some papers there I want;" and I turned away when Max made a suggestion.
"There's a No. 5 over there. She's not so good as No. 2 here, but she could take the lieutenant up. I filled her tank in case, when I found No. 2 was wrong."
"Why didn't you say so before, Max?" cried Harden.
If he had, he would have saved me from a very nasty heart spasm. As it was, there would only just be time to get off safely. But it might have been fatal to appear in any hurry, so I strolled over casually to the No. 5, pretended to look her over, as if time was no sort of consideration, and was climbing into the fuselage when we heard the furious tooting of a motor horn in the distance.
"Hullo, what can that be?" exclaimed Harden.
"Sounds as if some one had had a breakdown and was tooting for help," I suggested with a smile.
A few seconds later the horn sounded again; much nearer this time. Schiller was in a hurry and no mistake. But all this hurry wouldn't help him now. The bus was an old type needing the help of the mechanics to get moving, and Max struggled with the propeller to start her.