At the pilotage office I found five others ahead of me; all of us were
bound in the same direction. We were given [v]barographs, altimeters and
maps and full directions as to forced landings and what to do when lost.
We hung around the voyage hangar until about eight in the morning, but
there was a low mist and cloudy sky, so we could not start out until
afternoon; and I didn't have luncheon at "Suzanne's."

After noon several of the others started out, but I wanted to plan my
supper stop for the second point, so I waited until about four o'clock
before starting.

Almost before I knew it a village, which on the map was twelve
kilometers away, was slipping by beneath me and then off to one side was
a forest, green and cool-looking and very regular around the edges.
Pretty soon I came to a deep blue streak bordered by trees, and was so
interested in it--it wound around under a railroad track, came up and
brushed by lots of back gates and, finally, fell in a wide splash of
silver over a little fall by a mill--that I forgot all about flying and
suddenly woke up to the fact that one wing was about as low as it could
get and that the nose of the machine was doing its best to follow the
wing.

Long before I came to the stopping point, I could see the little white
hangar. The field is not large, but it is strange, so you come down
rather anxiously, for if you can't make that field the first time, you
never will be able to fly, they tell you before leaving. I glided down
easily enough, for, after all, it is just that--either you can or you
can't--and made a good-enough landing. The sergeant signed my paper, and
a few minutes later away I went for "Suzanne's." The next stop is near a
little village--Suzanne's village--so when I came to the field and
landed I was sure to be too tired to go up again immediately. Instead,
off I went to town after making things right with the man in charge.
That wasn't a bit difficult, either, for all I did was to wink as hard
as I could, and he understood perfectly.

I knew where "Suzanne's" was, so I made directly for it. It was a little
early, but you should never miss the [v]_apertif_. With that first,
success is assured; without it, it is like getting out of bed on the
wrong foot.

Up I marched to the unimposing door and walked in to the main room--a
big room, with long, wooden tables and benches and a zinc bar at one
end, where all kinds of bottles rested. It isn't called "Suzanne's,"