opened fire with a deafening clatter at
point-blank range from behind. In an instant the surrounding air
became full of innumerable tiny, brilliant flames, passing me at an
incredible speed like minute streaks of lightning, each one giving
forth a curious staccato whistling crack as it plunged through or
beside the tormented machine, leaving in its wake a thin curling line
of blue smoke. I was in the middle of a relentless storm of burning
tracer bullets, vying one with the other for the honour of passing
through the petrol tank, thereby converting my machine into a seething
furnace. Having no observer to defend my tail I turned steeply to meet
my new adversary. However, before completing the manoeuvre I
received another deadly burst of fire, which, though it somehow missed
me, shot away several of my control wires. What happened next I cannot
be sure, but the machine seemed to turn over, and my machine gun fell
off with a crash. This took place at an altitude of six thousand feet.
My next impression was that I seemed to be in the centre of a whirling
vortex, around which all creation revolved at an extraordinary speed,
and realised that my trusty steed was indulging in a particularly
violent "spinning nose dive." A "spin" at the best of times rather
takes one's breath away, so, shutting the throttle, I endeavoured to
come out of it in the usual way. To my surprise, the engine refused to
slow down, or any of the controls to respond, except one, which only
tended to make matters worse.

The one thing left to be done was to "switch off" and trust to luck.
This, however, was more easily decided on than accomplished, for by
this time the machine was plunging to earth so rapidly, with the
engine full on, that I felt as if I were tied to a peg-top, which was
being hurled downwards with irresistible force. Fighting blindly
against the tremendous air-pressure, which rendered me hardly able to
move, I forced my left arm, inch by inch, along the edge of the
"cockpit" until I succeeded in turning the switch lever downwards. A
glance at the speedometer did not reassure me, the poor thing seemed
very much overworked. Descending very rapidly I kept getting a glimpse
of a pretty red-roofed village, which became ominously more distinct
at every plunging revolution.

I vaguely thought there would be rather a splash when we arrived at
our destination, but at eight hundred feet Providence came to the
rescue. I heard the welcome cessati