Then, with less than a gallon of petrol on board, EG 19, despite her bullet-wounds and the weight of a passenger, made a good landing almost at the entrance to the hangar.
"Feel a bit rotten," admitted Kaye, as ready hands assisted him to the ground. "Not a bad stunt, was it? A sticky time, but——"
His voice trailed off into an indistinct murmur.
"Hang on to him, somebody," shouted Derek, leaping from his 'bus.
Supported by two other pilots Kaye was carried off, while Derek, knowing that all that could be done for his chum would be done, hastened to make his report to the Flight-Commander.
As soon as possible he made his way to the field-hospital where Kaye had been carried. The pilot was still unconscious, suffering from no less than three shrapnel-wounds, in addition to being severely burnt by the flaming petrol and shaken by his involuntary crash.
"Wonder if it will be a Blighty business?" thought Derek. "He'll be horribly sick about it if the war's over before he's out again. But, by Jove! it looks like it. We've got Fritz cold."