Small cause for mirth, and yet he laughed, pointing to the dwindling speck high upon the north horizon that represented the worldly prospects of Sherbrand, and a handsome sum in cash. The Bird, just then entering a broad belt of gold-white mackerel-cloud, was lost to view in another instant. But the Chief had wheeled upon the pointing gesture, and seen, and understood.
Then he was upon them, saying in accents jarred with anger:
"How was this allowed to happen? You were warned. You had my wire?"
Sherbrand's mouth was wrung awry with another spasm of mirthless laughter. He fought it back and held out the crumpled slip of paper, saying:
"I did, but luck was on his side. Thanks to a relapse on Macrombie's part, I got this after the Bird had flown."
"The Bird..."
The blue-grey eyes and the keen hazel met, and struck a spark between them.
"'The Bird.' He has taken French leave—or, more appropriately, German—by the help of your machine?"
Sherbrand nodded, setting his teeth grimly. The wailing voice of the pallid clerk came in like a refrain:
"'Ooked it. Bunked—so 'elp me Jimmy Johnson! With our young guv'nor's mono', and the gyro 'overer!"