At that moment, to her great surprise, she became aware of a second machine in the vicinity. She heard a low droning like that of a big bumblebee, and on looking up saw an Army monoplane coming down swiftly in her direction.
Indeed, its pilot brought it to earth within a few hundred yards of where she had landed. Then, springing out, he came across to where she stood.
On approaching her he appeared to be greatly surprised that the big biplane had been flown by a woman.
“I saw you were in trouble,” explained the pilot, a tall, good-looking lieutenant of the Royal Flying Corps, who spoke with a slight American accent, “so I came down to see if I could give you any assistance.”
“It is most awfully kind of you,” Beryl replied, pulling off her thick gloves. “I don’t think it is really very much. I’ve had the same trouble before. She’s a new ’bus.”
“So I see,” replied the stranger, examining “The Hornet” with critical eye. “And she’s very fast, too.”
“When did you first see me?” she asked with curiosity.
“You were passing over Huntingdon. I had come across to the railway from the Great North Road which I had followed up from London. I’m on my way to Hull.”
“Well, I had no idea you were behind me!” laughed the girl merrily. The air-pilot with the silver wings upon his breast seemed a particularly nice man, and it showed a good esprit de corps to have descended in order to offer assistance to another man, as he had no doubt believed the pilot to be.
Without further parley, he set to work to help her in readjusting her engine, and in doing so quickly betrayed his expert knowledge of aeroplane-engines.