"It's rather a long story; I'll tell you all as we go along. I was waiting for you on the tell when I saw you come down, and finding you in the enemy's hands, I managed to get a friendly tribe to come to the rescue. Are you badly hurt?"
"Not a bit; I got one through the shoulder and another through an unsuspected roll of fat just above my thigh. The Turks patched me up with their own field dressings; they seem quite decent chaps; and I'll do very well till we get back to our own M.O. I can manage to fly right enough."
"The machine's all right?"
"I think so—or will be with a little attention. The engine wasn't behaving very well; still, I hoped to get to the tell and overhaul it there; but it began to misfire badly, and I thought it safer to come down at once, though I'd seen this mounted patrol. Unluckily they rushed me before I had well got to work. I held them off in front, but they attacked in the rear and pipped me."
"Jolly lucky it's no worse. I'll get the men to clear the wing; then we'll haul ashore, and start for home. You might have a look at the engine at once: it'll save time."
He returned to the bank and set some of the Arabs to cut away the vegetation. Meanwhile Ellingford opened up his engine. "I say," he called in a minute or two, "this is bad luck. The petrol tank is riddled. I can't repair it here."
"You can't fly, then?"
"Absolutely impossible."
"That's a blow. We shall have to haul it, then, as the Turks did."
"But where to? We can't possibly get through the Turkish lines."