Jack had already started an examination on his own account, and he almost immediately announced a finding.
"Just what happened, Tom!" came his cry, in a tone of dismay mingled with disgust. "Why, there are two holes, one far above the other! I reckon it came from below, after all. But the tank is empty, and only for that automatic feed change, meant for such an emergency, we'd have been running on hot air before now."
"There's not enough petrol in the small tank to take us home, Jack, I'm afraid," Tom called next.
"Then what?" demanded the other eagerly.
"Only one thing left to us, I'm thinking."
"What's that? You're the skipper of this craft, and I take my orders from you. Whatever you say goes."
"We'll have to pick out a nice even spot and land," said the pilot, in the most natural tone imaginable; for he had by now shut off some of his power, and the noise accordingly diminished.
"And try to get enough gas, some way or other, to see us safely on our way—is that the programme, Tom?" queried the observer.
"There's really no other way. If we keep straight on we're likely to be forced to drop right back of the Hun lines, where we'd be gobbled up as quick as a flash."
"Too bad, isn't it?" cried Jack, in mock tones of chagrin. "And, Tom, wouldn't it be queer now, if after we did drop down we should find that we'd actually landed close to a half ruined chateau that's perched on a hilltop, and occupied by a Hun general as headquarters?"