Afterwards we returned into the farm-house and I helped Roseye into her flying-suit, with its strapped wind-cuffs and wide belt. She loosened her wealth of hair and, twisting it up deftly, without pins, placed it beneath her leather helmet, after which she stuffed her padded gloves into her pocket.
“It’s going to be cold,” I said. “I hope you’re warm enough, darling?” I asked anxiously.
“Quite,” she assured me. “My suit is wind-proof.”
Very quickly I also got into my kit—a kit I had used for months, because in an experiment of that sort one wants to be hampered with nothing new. Then, when we were both ready for the flight, we went into the field and, climbing into our seats, buckled the straps across us.
Theed junior and his father were attending to us, the former being at the propeller and in readiness.
“As soon as we’ve gone, jump into the car and go out for Mr Ashton,” I said to the younger man. “You’ll find him somewhere near Stockhurst church.” He knew the road, for he had gone over it on the previous day in order to explore.
“Right, sir! I’ll get away at once and leave father to light the flares for landing,” was his reply.
Then, one after the other, I made tests. First, I ran the engine, then I switched on the small light which showed our compass, the map in its celluloid cover, the altimeter, and the other instruments ranged before me. Afterwards I switched on the searchlight which for a few seconds shot a white beam of intense brilliancy towards the sky.
Having proved to my satisfaction that both engines the and dynamo were working well, I shouted the word to Theed.
In a few seconds there was a sudden throb of the engine which instantly developed into such a roar that to speak to Roseye at my side became quite impossible.