which they shook hands heartily
and went to the fence to lend a hand there.

In half-an-hour the work was done; the fence was down, and the six men
carefully dragged and lifted the aeroplane over the debris, and placed
it on the road outside. While Rodier made a rapid examination of it,
to see that no damage had been done, Smith got the men to empty into
the tank the can of petrol they had brought, paid them for their
work, and handed his card to the farmer.

"Send in your bill," he cried. "Ready, Roddy?"

"All right, mister."

They jumped into their seats. Smith called to the men to stand clear,
and pulled the lever. At the same moment Rodier switched on the
searchlight. The propellers flew round with deafening whirr; the
aeroplane shot forward for thirty or forty yards along the road, then
rose like a bird into the air.

The men stood with mouths agape as the machine flew over the
tree-tops, its light diminishing to a pin-point, its clamour sinking
to the quiet hum of a bee, and then fading away altogether. In a
minute it had totally disappeared.

"Daze me if ever I seed anything like that afore," said the farmer. "A
mile a minute, what?"

"More like two," said the motorman. "I lay she'll be in Portsmouth
afore I'm half-a-mile up road. Good-night, farmer, I'm off to the
Three Waggoners."

"Bust if I don't go, too. There be summat to wet our whistles on
to-night, eh, men?"

CHAPTER II

EASTWARD HO!

Before the farmer reached the hospitable door of the Three Waggoners,
Smith had made his descent upon a broad open space in his father's
park near Cosham. There stood the large shed in which he housed the
aeroplane; adjoining it were a number of workshops. It was quite dark
now, and no one was about; but Smith clearly had no intention of
putting his machine up for the night. As soon as he came to the ground
he hurried off on foot in one direction, Rodier on a bicycle in
another, their purposeful movements betokening a course of action
arranged during the few minutes' conversation at the farm.

Smith walked rapidly through the park, and, entering the house, found
his mother placidly knitting on a settee in the large old-fashioned
hall.

"Ah, my dear boy," she said, as he appeared; "how late you are, and
how dirty! We have waited dinner for you."

"You shouldn't have done that, mother," he replied cheerfully; "though
it's very good of you."

"Well, you see, it's your last night with us for ever s