In the direction of the farmhouse was no sign of animation except the thread of smoke that rose from the kitchen chimney. The back of the hangar was just in front of them, a bare wall of wood, a hundred and fifty feet long. The opening was upon the other side, to the west, a huge canvas flap, toggled at the bottom to rings in the sill. Hammersley came back and whispered to Doris to follow him. Until the starting of the engine, this was the most hazardous part of the proceeding, for, if they were seen from the house, there would be no time for Hammersley to put the engines in order. He led her south to a point in the woods where the storehouse hid them from the main buildings, when, crouching low to avoid possible detection from the Windenberg road, they covered the fifty yards to the storehouse and waited again, completely hidden from all points except the forest behind them, while Cyril looked around the edge of the building, and then beckoned to her to follow. In a moment they had slipped between the end of the canvas flap and the door, and were within the dusky interior of the shed.

Before them stretched the wide expanse of the Yellow Dove, a huge biplane with a spread, as nearly as Doris could figure it, of a hundred and twenty feet from tip to tip. She stood before it in wonder and awe, admiring its fine lines and sturdy appearance. A dragon-fly her Nieuport was beside this great eagle of the air. The other machine, an Etrich monoplane, which was used by Udo von Winden, seemed lost in the shadows of the larger wings. Doris stood quite still, as Cyril had directed, while he moved off noiselessly in the dim light. She saw him slipping from one spot to another, quickly examining this and that, and at last saw him climb up into the machine with his kit of tools. She came nearer as he whispered down to her:

“They’ve taken out some plugs. I’ll have ’em in shortly.” And then: “Go around the lower plane and tell me if the guys are all taut.”

She did as he asked, while she heard him above working over the engines.

“How long will it take?” she whispered.

“I can’t tell—twenty minutes, perhaps. The petrol tanks are empty, too.”

“I want to help.”

“Are the wires all fast?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then bring me the hose from the petrol tank. It’s there beside you in the corner. You can run it in while I’m workin’.”