ts side
with one wing in the air. There was no aeronaut near it, dead or alive.
There it lay abandoned, with the water lapping about its long tail.

Bert remained a little aloof from it for a long time, looking into
the gathering shadows among the trees, in the expectation of another
Chinaman alive or dead. Then very cautiously he approached the machine
and stood regarding its widespread vans, its big steering wheel and
empty saddle. He did not venture to touch it.

"I wish that other chap wasn't there," he said. "I do wish 'e wasn't
there!"

He saw a few yards away, something bobbing about in an eddy that spun
within a projecting head of rock. As it went round it seemed to draw him
unwillingly towards it....

What could it be?

"Blow!" said Bert. "It's another of 'em."

It held him. He told himself that it was the other aeronaut that had
been shot in the fight and fallen out of the saddle as he strove to
land. He tried to go away, and then it occurred to him that he might get
a branch or something and push this rotating object out into the stream.
That would leave him with only one dead body to worry about. Perhaps he
might get along with one. He hesitated and then with a certain emotion
forced himself to do this. He went towards the bushes and cut himself a
wand and returned to the rocks and clambered out to a corner between the
eddy and the stream, By that time the sunset was over and the bats were
abroad--and he was wet with perspiration.

He prodded the floating blue-clad thing with his wand, failed, tried
again successfully as it came round, and as it went out into the stream
it turned over, the light gleamed on golden hair and--it was Kurt!

It was Kurt, white and dead and very calm. There was no mistaking him.
There was still plenty of light for that. The stream took him and he
seemed to compose himself in its swift grip as one who stretches himself
to rest. White-faced he was now, and all the colour gone out of him.

A feeling of infinite distress swept over Bert as the body swept out of
sight towards the fall. "Kurt!" he cried, "Kurt! I didn't mean to! Kurt!
don' leave me 'ere! Don' leave me!"

Loneliness and desolation overwhelmed him. He gave way. He stood on
the rock in the evening light, weeping and wailing passionately like a
child. It was as though some link that had held him to all these things
had broken and gone. He was afraid like a child in a lonely room,
shamelessly afraid.

The twili