tidied and thoroughly spring-cleaned! A doll's
country it looks, with tiny horses and cows ornamenting the fields
and little model motor-cars and carts stuck on the roads, the latter
stretching away across the country like ribbons accidentally dropped.

At three thousand feet altitude the Pilot is satisfied that he is now
sufficiently high to secure, in the event of engine failure, a
long enough glide to earth to enable him to choose and reach a good
landing-place; and, being furthermore content with the steady running of
the engine, he decides to climb no more but to follow the course he has
mapped out. Consulting the compass, he places the Aeroplane on the A--E
course and, using the Elevator, he gives his craft its minimum angle of
incidence at which it will just maintain horizontal flight and secure
its maximum speed.

Swiftly he speeds away, and few thoughts he has now for the changing
panorama of country, cloud, and colour. Ever present in his mind are the
three great 'cross-country queries. "Am I on my right course? Can I see
a good landing-ground within gliding distance?" And "How is the Engine
running?"

Keenly both he and the Observer compare their maps with the country
below. The roads, khaki-coloured ribbons, are easily seen but are not
of much use, for there are so many of them and they all look alike from
such an altitude.

Now where can that lake be which the map shows so plainly? He feels that
surely he should see it by now, and has an uncomfortable feeling that
he is flying too far West. What pilot is there indeed who has not many
times experienced such unpleasant sensation? Few things in the air
can create greater anxiety. Wisely, however, he sticks to his compass
course, and the next minute he is rewarded by the sight of the lake,
though indeed he now sees that the direction of his travel will not take
him over it, as should be the case if he were flying over the shortest
route to his destination. He must have slightly miscalculated the
velocity or direction of the side-wind.

"About ten degrees off," he mutters, and, using the Rudder, corrects his
course accordingly.

Now he feels happier and that he is well on his way. The gusts, too,
have ceased to trouble him as, at this altitude, they are not nearly so
bad as they were near the ground the broken surface of which does much
to produce them; and sometimes for miles he makes but a movement or two
of the controls.

The clouds just above race b