"We have both earned our dinner. You will pilot the machine back?"
"Of course. Are you sure you are not seriously hurt?"
"Quite. I only hope I get nothing worse before the war is over."
[CHAPTER XII--A FIGHT WITH A ZEPPELIN]
Nearing Liége on their return journey, the airmen became aware of a momentous change from the peaceful scene of the morning. A pall of smoke hung over the country for miles. Wherever there were rifts in it, they caught glimpses of immense grey masses that appeared to be crawling towards the city from every side except the west. It was evident that the Germans were attacking in stupendous force.
Kenneth steered to the west, doubtful whether he should find the headquarters of the Flying Corps in the spot where he had left it. The monoplane escaped the Germans' attentions, and when it came within range of the Belgians' rifles, Pariset hung out the Russian flag, which was his surety.
Locating the aeroplane park with some difficulty, considerably to the westward of its former position, Kenneth at length brought the machine to the ground. The air quivered with the shock of artillery fire; the noise was incessant.
"What is the news?" asked Pariset of a comrade who had come up to greet him.
"They are shelling us with heavy guns, and devoting particular attention to Fort Loncin, where General Leman is," was the reply. "And it is said that they have got into the town. The people are making off in crowds.... You have had a knock!"
"A slight bruise. We managed it!"