“The British, with reinforcements coming up every day, seem to be holding all the ground around here,” Frank was saying. “Can you see Dunkirk yet, Billy?”
“Oh! yes, easily enough. It isn’t such a great distance away from where the fighting is taking place. They’ve heard the roar of the big forty-two centimeter German guns at Dunkirk more than once this winter.”
Still lower they dropped, until at less than a thousand feet they sailed along, now over the water, with the Channel on their right, and the disputed shore of France to the left.
“Will you alight on the water, and then head straight for our hangar, Frank?”
“That is the easiest way to do it,” came the answer, as though Frank had every detail mapped out in his head.
“I warrant you Pudge is standing somewhere, and watching us come along, with his heart beating furiously, ready to fairly hug us after we get ashore.”
Billy grinned as he thus pictured the delight of their fat chum on hearing how magnificently the gallant Sea Eagle had disported in the air high above the German Headquarters, and what a spasm of alarm their coming had sent to the hearts of the various air pilots belonging to the invaders.
With the grace of a monster swan, the seaplane circled around several times and then alighted on the bosom of the water, as softly as floating thistle down. Equally at home in the air or on the water, the strange hybrid craft immediately commenced to move along in the direction of the wooden inclined plane leading by a gradual rise from the water into the elevated hangar.
So ended the amazing and satisfactory trial trip of the Sea Eagle.