"That was the interesting part of it. After a half hour more of flying I again ordered the assistant to go down two hundred meters. It was now evident that the storm was abating. Soon we again passed out of the rain clouds, and the assistant shouted that he had reached the level indicated. 'Go lower,' I shouted. As we did so it grew lighter, and we began to feel a relief. 'Lower yet,' I ordered. At 600 meters the rain poured steadily, but still nothing was visible."
"You were up then about a half a mile," said Ralph.
"Just about that," was the reply. "Soon we noticed a peculiar white patch, and then another. This was puzzle to me. 'Go still lower,' I shouted, and down went the machine. Then we saw some white houses, and I almost shouted for joy. But where could we be? We were passing over a city, a city located within the bend of a large river. I racked my brain to find out where and what it could be. If it was the river Meuse it might be Verdun, or Sedan, or Charleville. We were forced to go down still lower, and then I could see forts, and I felt sure we were over Sedan.
"We were even then going east. I was so agitated that I could hardly speak, and motioned to my assistant to turn around. He understood, and the ship was swung around; we were now going right into the blinding rain, but we were fifty miles behind the German advance columns, and in order to enable us to make more rapid progress I told the assistant to change the course nearly due south. We were flying very low, certainly not over a thousand feet.
"Thus far we had not seen a soldier, or any evidences of warfare. In a half hour we sighted another stream. My heart leaped with joy, for I was sure it must be the Aisne. To assure myself of this we followed the stream for twenty kilometers, and then the forests of Argonne came into sight, thus assuring me of the position. I knew that the army of the Crown Prince was in that region, and it would not be safe to descend; I, therefore, directed the machine to the west, crossed the river, and was about to go still lower, when I heard a boom,—several of them.
"This startled me, you may be sure. 'Up, up!' I shouted. The machine obeyed. We rose to an altitude of eight hundred meters, then suddenly the engine stopped. My assistant turned and shouted: 'We have no petrol.' I crawled back and tested the tank. It was empty. 'Volplane to the south,' I said. It was the only thing I could do. Now that the engine was silent the sounds from the earth were startling. There was terrific firing to the right and left, and all about us; but we must go down; there was no help for that.
"Soon the earth again came in sight, and then the location of the batteries was made out by the volumes of smoke, which could be seen at each volley. My assistant tried to hold up the machine as long as possible, but we were now down to 300 meters, then the barometer registered 250. We both noticed a large, apparently smooth field, and the final volplane began. We landed a hundred feet from a first-line trench, and although the Germans made it hot for us for about fifteen minutes we were soon able to reach the laterals and thus escape their fire. But the machine was in a bad condition when we rescued it that night. It was literally shot full of holes. What is left of it is now in the end warehouse where the scraps are kept."