rop bombs perhaps on Syrian
fortresses; to estimate the numbers of Turkish columns on the march, to
reckon their strength in artillery; to take desperate risks; to swerve
and dart amid clouds of bursting shrapnel. How much more gloriously
exciting such a life than that of men baking slowly in the monotony of a
desert camp.

Maitland, stimulated by his reading to an unnatural effort of
imagination, recognized in the men of the Flying Corps the true
successors of Mallory's adventurous knight-errants. For them war still
contained romance. Chivalry was still possible. Haddingly caught the
thought and expanded it Knights of old had this wonderful spirit,
because to them the forests through which they roamed were unknown
wastes, where all strange things might be expected. Then when all the
land became familiar, mapped, intersected with roads, covered thick with
towns, sailors inherited the spirit of romance. Afterwards all the seas
were charted, policed, and ships went to and fro on ocean highways. The
romance of adventure was lost to seamen, lost to the world, until the
airmen came and found it again by venturing on new ways.

In the evening the aeroplane returned. Once more its engines were heard.
Once more it appeared, a speck, a shape, a recognizable thing. But this
time it did not pass away. On reaching camp it circled twice, and then,
with a long swift glide, took the ground outside the camp a few yards
beyond Haddingly's church of St. John in the Wilderness. The pilot
stepped out of the machine.

"Good man," said Dalton. "Friendly of him dropping in on us like this.
Must want a drink after that fly. Eight hours at least. I'll go and
bring him along to the mess. Hope he'll tell us what he's been doing.
Wonder if the Turks potted at him."

The pilot left his machine. He walked stiffly, like a man with cramped
limbs, towards the camp.

"Something wrong with the engine, perhaps," said Dalton. "Or he's short
of petrol. I'll fetch him along. A whisky and soda in a big tumbler is
the thing for him. I dare say he'll stay for dinner."

He started and walked quickly towards the machine. The airman,
approaching the camp, reached the church. Instead of passing it he
stopped, opened the door, and went in. Dalton paused and looked back.

"Must have mistaken your tin cathedral for the mess, padre," he said.
"I'll run on and fetch him out."

"If he's made a mistake," said Haddingly, "he'll find it out for himself
and come ou