"You've got it, exactly. Now we must get away; it must already be seven o'clock, and a fine morning to boot. What says the weather report about the Channel crossing?"
"Here it is," exclaimed Sharpe, passing a copy of the Times across to his friend, who turned over the pages and read as follows:--
"Flying prospects for to-day:--South-east England and Continent, including the Channel crossing, favourable for flying for all types of machines till mid-day, after that conditions will deteriorate, squalls and heavy rains will predominate, visibility will be poor, and conditions will become unsuitable for cross-country flying."
"Good! Then we must get away at once," observed Sharpe, and within another five minutes they were being hurled along towards Hounslow, the aerodrome from which this new adventure was to begin.
Forty-five minutes later a couple of S.E.9s, the fastest machines in the service, rose from the flying ground and steered a course east-south-east for the Straits of Dover. Thirty-five minutes later, the necessary signals having been accepted by the Dover patrols, with throttles wide open, the two daring young aviators rushed the Channel at one hundred and fifty miles an hour.
The French patrols having been informed by Dover, permitted them to pass unchallenged. And now changing course till they steered almost due south-east, they sped onwards, catching now and again a glimpse of the old battle-front of the days of 1914-1918, where the shell-marked craters of the Hindenberg line were still visible from the air.
Then they followed the railway line from Laon to Rheims, left the ancient town of Nancy to their left, and, crossing the Vosges Mountains and forests a little to the north of Belfort, they dropped down quietly to the landing ground outside Mulhausen in Alsace, as the clock in the Market Square struck the hour of noon.
Having left their machines and flying gear in charge of the commandant, they entered the town, purchased a portable camp outfit, and, dressed as tourists of the pedestrian and naturalist type, continued their journey, crossed the Rhine and entered the Schwarzwald, ostensibly to study the fauna and flora of the Black Forest.
"Phew! I'm tired of this load. Let us camp here for the night, by this little clearing, where these seldom trodden footpaths diverge," said Keane, some hours later, as, weary and dusty with his three hours' tramp through the bracken and the tousled undergrowth, he threw down his heavy knapsack and nets, and began to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.
Then they lit a small fire of dried twigs, cooked their evening meal, and lit their pipes.