own way. I wonder who he is. It seems
strange we hear so little of him."

"Ah! my boy. You do a bit more flying and you'll discover that things
are not always as they appear from a distance!"

"There she is, sir!" cries the Flight-Sergeant. "Just a speck over the
silvery corner of that cloud."

A tiny speck it looks, some six miles distant and three thousand feet
high; but, racing along, it rapidly appears larger and soon its outlines
can be traced and the sunlight be seen playing upon the whirling
propeller.

Now the distant drone of the engine can be heard, but not for long, for
suddenly it ceases and, the nose of the Aeroplane sinking, the craft
commences gliding downwards.

"Surely too far away," says a subaltern. "It will be a wonderful machine
if, from that distance and height, it can glide into the Aerodrome."
And more than one express the opinion that it cannot be done; but
the Designer smiles to himself, yet with a little anxiety, for his
reputation is at stake, and Efficiency, the main reward he desires, is
perhaps, or perhaps not, at last within his grasp!

Swiftly the machine glides downwards towards them, and it can now be
seen how surprisingly little it is affected by the rough weather and
gusts; so much so that a little chorus of approval is heard.

"Jolly good gliding angle," says someone; and another, "Beautifully
quick controls, what?" and from yet another, "By Jove! The Pilot must be
sure of the machine. Look, he's stopped the engine entirely."

Then the Aeroplane with noiseless engine glides over the boundary of the
Aerodrome, and, with just a soft soughing sound from the air it cleaves,
lands gently not fifty yards from the onlookers.

"Glad to see you," says the Squadron Commander to the Pilot. "How do you
like the machine?" And the Pilot replies:

"I never want a better one, sir. It almost flies itself!"

And the Designer turns his face homewards and towards his beloved
drawing-office; well satisfied, but still dreaming dreams of the future
and... looking far ahead whom should he see but Efficiency at last
coming towards him! And to him she is all things. In her hair is the
morning sunshine; her eyes hold the blue of the sky, and on her cheeks
is the pearly tint of the clouds as seen from above. The passion of
speed, the lure of space, the sense of power, and the wonder of the
future... all these things she holds for him.

"Ah!" he cries. "You'll never leave me now, when at last ther