When I was high enough I turned round once more to look at our dear little Kiao-Chow, which had suffered and was still to suffer so much. Our beloved second country—Paradise on earth.
Two lines of fire, facing each other, were clearly distinguishable, and the faint roar of guns could be heard—sure forerunners of renewed attack and desperate defence.
Would we be able to ward it off for the third time? I waved my hand towards Kiao-Chow! Farewell, my faithful comrades, fighting down there!
This leave-taking was infinitely bitter, and I struggled for composure. I flung my machine round with a swift wrench, and steered it towards Cape Taschke.
When the sun rose in all its glory, I was already floating in the blue ether, high over the wild southern mountain peaks.
I had run the blockade in true modern fashion.
CHAPTER VIII
IN THE SLIME OF THE CHINESE RICE-FIELD