When reduced to that method of landing, Frank wanted to be as well down as he could with safety allow the seaplane to drop. What little danger they risked of being struck by some shot sent by the astonished Germans was not worth while considering. The great speed they were making would in itself serve to protect them from this threatening evil.
It was a critical moment for the aëroplane boys, and one that none of them would be likely to forget soon. They could notice that the rattle of the exhaust was growing more and more deadened. That told them the end was very near and then the last feeble effort of the motors would end in a total collapse.
“A pint of gasoline would see us through with flying colors!” exclaimed Billy.
“Just to think of it,” cried Pudge dismally, as though the thought of falling into the hands of the Germans and being treated as a prisoner of war filled his heart with dismay.
“On! on! keep her going, young m’sieu!” almost shrieked the Frenchman, as he half stood up in his great excitement, and turned his gaze from Frank to the prospect before them.
Frank had changed his plan of action. He no longer pushed the motors to their utmost. The muffler, too, now shut off those spiteful looking greenish flames, and the rattle was silenced.
In truth, Frank, in the belief that if they could only keep afloat, their momentum would be sufficient to carry the seaplane across the line of trenches, was trying to conserve every atom of power. He asked nothing more than this, and would be willing to take his chances of making a fairly successful landing, though a craft of that description was never intended to start or finish a voyage save on the water.
Pudge became more alarmed, now that the shrill clatter of the exhaust had been silenced, for unlike Billy he had not grasped just why this had come about.
“Oh! will we make it, Frank?” he cried in an agony of fear.
“I think so,” the pilot told him steadily.