The ground appeared to be rising to greet the descending aeroplane—slowly at first, then with disconcerting acceleration. There was no time to stop and think; what had to be done must be done promptly, almost automatically. An error of judgment would certainly result in a crash of more or less seriousness.
"Now!" exclaimed Derek aloud, although he knew not why. The nose of the machine rose slightly; there was a perceptible jar, another, and then a series of bumps that decreased in force although they increased in duration. Mechanically the young pilot cut off his engine, and after travelling a few yards the 'plane came to a standstill.
"By Jove! I've landed," he soliloquized. "Wonder how I did it?"
Rippondene clambered out, sliding to the ground, and began to swing his arms to restore the circulation.
"Hurry up, old bird!" he exclaimed pleasantly. "We're the last down, and lunch will be over if we don't look sharp. Yes, we'll make a good airman of you yet. You've got it in you. Matter of fact I only had to touch the joy-stick once, and that was when you tried to loop the loop in that cloud. Didn't know you did, eh? I'm not surprised. We've all been in the same boat."
CHAPTER III
The Derelict
Lunch was almost over when Derek entered the crowded mess in which the quirks of Averleigh did justice to the plain but substantial food provided by a paternal administration for the benefit of the airmen of to-morrow. The air was buzzing with animated conversation, mostly upon subjects entirely unconnected with the serious art of aviation.
Concealing his anxiety to hear how his chum fared, Derek took a recently-vacated chair at Kaye's side. The latter nodded appreciatively as he passed Daventry a bowl containing a concoction which must never be referred to as margarine, but always as "nut butter".