"Beg pardon, sir," sheepishly muttered the man who had knocked him down. "It's raining so hard----"
"That's all right," Burton interposed. "Where am I?"
"It's you, Burton!" said the officer. "Come among the trees. You men, lug the aeroplane in; the rain's so thick that perhaps the Huns haven't seen where it fell."
"But we're in no danger in our own lines?" said Burton in surprise.
"We aren't in our own lines," rejoined the officer, dragging Burton into the wood. "We're marooned."
"Gad, Hedley, are you the missing platoon?"
"Yes; I'll tell you."
"Let me have a look at the machine first. By George! I thought I was done for."
"It was a narrow squeak. But you've always had wonderful luck. Here's the machine. What's the damage?"
Burton examined the aeroplane and gave a rueful shrug.