It was a monoplane, flying fairly low, and proceeding in a westerly direction with a decided tendency to describe a right-handed curve. Although not immediately overhead, it was sufficiently close for the lad to distinguish the marking on the wings, fuselage, and vertical rudder.
Greatly to his surprise the monoplane bore the familiar red, white and blue concentric rings that denoted it to be a British machine.
"Whatever is that fellow doing over here?" wondered the lad. "He's placed the whole of Belgium between him and our lines. By Jove, if he starts dropping bombs about here there'll be trouble!"
But the airman made no attempt to let fall his cargo of explosives. Still describing a long erratic curve and decreasing his altitude as he did so he was soon almost invisible from the place where Athol stood—merely a shimmer of silvery-grey against the dark sky.
"Wish the fellow, whoever he is, had stopped to give me a lift," said the foot-sore subaltern as he resumed his dusty journey. "It's jolly rotten having to pad the hoof after one has been used to a hundred miles an hour or more through the air."
A few minutes later he noticed that the monoplane had swung round and was almost retracing its former course, and heading toward the east—in the direction of Germany.
"Perhaps he's trying to find Essen," thought Athol. "Krupp's place can't be much more than sixty miles away. Evidently he's lost his bearings and has just picked up a landmark. Yet it's strange that he's flying alone and right over a neutral country."
It was not long before the lad was forced to admit that his theory was at fault, for the monoplane suddenly executed a sharp turn and making a nose-dive was within an ace of crashing violently to the ground. Only in the nick of time did the machine "flatten out," alighting at a distance of almost two miles from the now highly-interested lad.
To see whether the pilot had effected a safe landing, or otherwise, Athol was at that time unable to determine, owing to the slight irregularity of the ground. He took to his heels along the highway in the direction of the settled monoplane.
Hitherto the road had been little frequented that morning, beyond a few market carts and knots of country-folk making their way to town. But now people appeared as if by magic. Every field seemed to disgorge two or three, every house half a dozen or more, including a large proportion of children—all intent on hurrying to see the foreign aircraft.