The smooth-running machine was no longer firing regularly. Its speed had decreased.
“What are you going to do now?” cried Jack. “We’ll be mowed down by those machine guns if we slow up.”
“We must come down.”
“But the Germans?”
“There are no campfires below us now.”
“But can you make a good landing?”
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
“Parbleu! If I cannot zen all our troubles are over, mon ami.”
The aeroplane began to descend, slowly at first and then faster. The dark earth sky-rocketed up at them from below.