"No, but repairs will take two hours," was the reply. Then, after a pause, "How far am I from Douai?"
Setley thought fit to enlighten the Hun, who had evidently lost his bearings in addition to sustaining damage to his machine. By enquiring for Douai, where the Germans had an aviation ground, the Boche had given himself away.
"Quite an impossible distance, Herr Aviatiker," responded Ralph. "Meanwhile, you are our prisoner. Surrender instantly."
Even then the German failed to grasp the significance of the position.
"Surrender yourselves," he retorted, and placing a whistle to his lips he blew three short blasts. "Our patrols will be up at once, Englishmen," he added, "so do not give increasing trouble."
Another airman joined the first—the observer most likely. Dark forms were approaching. These gave the Huns mistaken confidence, for both began blazing away with their revolvers at Setley and his companion, who, dropping on one knee, promptly returned the compliment.
"Hullo!" bawled an unmistakably English voice. "What's the rumpus?"
"German airmen," shouted Ralph in reply.
"Then they're booked," rejoined the speaker.
The disconcerting nature of their blunder completely astounded the lost airmen. Without attempting to set fire to their machine they turned and bolted. Neither of the opposing parties had been hit in the exchange of pistol shots. Revolver firing at sixty yards on a misty night is not conducive to accurate aim, but with a rifle matters are placed on a different footing.