"Possibly," rejoined his new chief drily. "Only it happens that our new pilots are specially warned to fly low when making for the French coast."
"I had no such instructions," declared Blake.
"Therefore it would not have been a great surprise to me if you had carried on right over our lines and dropped gently on one of the Germans' aviation grounds. We have already had one or two cases like that. Our new pilots, not being sufficiently acquainted with the locality, have overshot the mark. Deplorable of course, but the fact remains."
"Here comes the expected monoplane, sir," reported a young flight-lieutenant.
Still flying low and rocking under the influence of the eddying air currents the monoplane battled towards the aerodrome. At that altitude there was no mistaking the nationality of the men awaiting the aviator's arrival. Two mechanics, detaching themselves from their comrades, made ready to steady the planes when the machine touched ground.
With admirable precision the airman "flattened out." So well timed was his descent that it was almost impossible to determine the precise moment when the monoplane was air-borne and when it was supported by its landing wheels.
Rolling over the ground for nearly fifty feet the monoplane stopped head to wind. The pilot descended, removed his goggles and flying helmet, revealing the boyish, clear-cut features of a man barely out of his teens.
Numbed by the cold he walked unsteadily, rubbing his hands as he did so in order to restore the circulation.
"A bit nippy," he remarked casually, after he had formally reported his arrival. "She did it jolly well, though. By the bye, I see you've got here ahead of me," he added, addressing Blake and nodding in the direction of the securely held battleplane.
"I didn't imagine that you saw us; we were ten thousand feet up when we overtook you," said Blake.