Hal headed the aëroplane due westward, making for the coast of England. Alexis had lapsed into unconsciousness upon being placed in the machine, but now he stirred feebly and spoke.
“A real fight, wasn’t it?” he gasped. “I told you I could do it if I were on the ground. How many was it I killed? Twenty–thirty–forty—”
He broke off and burst into a fit of coughing. Chester bent over him anxiously.
“You’ll be all right in a day or two, old man,” he said gently.
Alexis smiled feebly.
“Don’t try to fool me,” he said. “I am a man. I know when death is near and I am not afraid to face it.”
Both lads realized that their giant Cossack friend was near his end, but there was nothing they could do for him. Chester bound up the wounds as well as he could, stopping the flow of blood, but that was all.
As the aëroplane flew over the sea toward the coast of England, the dying man continued to talk. Now he sat up in the craft and gazed down over the side.
“I had always thought,” he said slowly, “that I should end my days in my own land. As it is I shall not end them in any land at all; but in the air. It is strange.”
Hal slowed the aëroplane down until it was barely moving and turned to Alexis.