"Shall I follow the road?" asked Dastral.
"Yes, till I pick up the hangars."
A moment later, the huge sheds came into view, and Jock, putting down his glasses, shouted with glee:
"There they are--three of them, and quite a crowd of people round about them. A little more to the left."
"Yes, I see them--why, there are hundreds of people there. What on earth can they be doing there?" asked Dastral.
"German soldiers waiting for the return of the Zeppelins that raided England last night, I expect."
"Phew! Our luck's in this time."
"They think we're friendly machines too, I believe," cried Jock, fingering the bomb release, ready to let go the first twenty-pound bomb on to the hangar. "Evidently, they can't make out our marks yet in the morning mist."
"They'll soon think differently," replied the pilot, as, coming up at full speed, followed by the rest of the flight, he did a rapid nose-dive of two thousand feet. Then, flattening out to get a better control over his machine, he swept on again till nearly exactly over the first huge shed, and did another rapid nose-dive, the speed of which must have approximated one hundred and fifty miles an hour.
"Look to it, Jock. Let go, man!" he yelled.