uce an explanation, the shrill bells of the
airship were ringing to quarters, and he had to go. Bert hesitated and
stepped thoughtfully into the passage, looking back at the window as
he did so. He was knocked off his feet at once by the Prince, who was
rushing headlong from his cabin to the central magazine.

Bert had a momentary impression of the great figure of the Prince, white
with rage, bristling with gigantic anger, his huge fist swinging. "Blut
und Eisen!" cried the Prince, as one who swears. "Oh! Blut und Eisen!"

Some one fell over Bert--something in the manner of falling suggested
Von Winterfeld--and some one else paused and kicked him spitefully and
hard. Then he was sitting up in the passage, rubbing a freshly bruised
cheek and readjusting the bandage he still wore on his head. "Dem that
Prince," said Bert, indignant beyond measure. "'E 'asn't the menners of
a 'og!"

He stood up, collected his wits for a minute, and then went slowly
towards the gangway of the little gallery. As he did so he heard noises
suggestive of the return of the Prince. The lot of them were coming back
again. He shot into his cabin like a rabbit into its burrow, just in
time to escape that shouting terror.

He shut the door, waited until the passage was still, then went across
to the window and looked out. A drift of cloud made the prospect of
the streets and squares hazy, and the rolling of the airship swung the
picture up and down. A few people were running to and fro, but for the
most part the aspect of the district was desertion. The streets seemed
to broaden out, they became clearer, and the little dots that were
people larger as the Vaterland came down again. Presently she was
swaying along above the lower end of Broadway. The dots below, Bert saw,
were not running now, but standing and looking up. Then suddenly they
were all running again.

Something had dropped from the aeroplane, something that looked small
and flimsy. It hit the pavement near a big archway just underneath Bert.
A little man was sprinting along the sidewalk within half a dozen yards,
and two or three others and one woman were bolting across the roadway.
They were odd little figures, so very small were they about the heads,
so very active about the elbows and legs. It was really funny to see
their legs going. Foreshortened, humanity has no dignity. The little man
on the pavement jumped comically--no doubt with terror, as the bomb fell
beside him.

Then