“No; I’m all right. You?”
“’Twas bad planned, all.” The Irishman took blame upon himself for the catastrophe which had befallen the others. “I doubt whether any of them——”
His lips lay to Gerry’s ear; but Gerry turned his head.
“You can stand and fight a minute, O’Malley?”
“Arrah! You see them coming?”
“It’s overhead, O’Malley; listen. One of them’s trying to get down. Maybe there’s two men in it.”
“What do you mean I should hear?”
“The silence,” Gerry said. “One of them just shut off above us.”
“I’m affecting you, bye,” said O’Malley. “But I know what you mean.”
The silence to which Gerry referred was only comparative; the motor was shut off in the German airplane which was trying to “get down”; but the rush of the volplane kept the airscrew thrashing audibly. The sound passed a hundred yards overhead; it increased suddenly to a roar as the pilot opened his throttle; and Gerry knew that in volplaning down, the cadet had misjudged the ground and had switched on his engine to give him power to circle about and try for the landing again.