ts on the map, nodded
over his shoulder, and set a course for Bouchavesnes.

Could we do it? I prayed to the gods and trusted to the pilot. Through
my mind there flitted impossible plans to be tried if we landed in Boche
territory. After setting fire to the machine we would attempt to hide,
and then, at night-time, creep along a communication trench to the enemy
front line, jump across it in a gap between the sentries, and chance
getting by the barbed wire and across No Man's Land. Or we would steal
to the Somme, float down-stream, and somehow or other pass the
entanglements placed across the river by the enemy. _Wouff!_ _wouff!_
Archie was complicating the odds.

Further broodings were checked by the sudden appearance of a German
scout. Taking advantage of our plight, its pilot dived steeply from a
point slightly behind us. We could not afford to lose any distance by
dodging, so V. did the only thing possible--he kept straight on. I
raised my gun, aimed at the wicked-looking nose of the attacking craft,
and met it with a barrage of bullets. These must have worried the Boche,
for he swerved aside when a hundred and fifty yards distant, and did not
flatten out until he was beneath the tail of our machine. Afterwards he
climbed away from us, turned, and dived once more. For a second time we
escaped, owing either to some lucky shots from my gun or to the lack of
judgment by the Hun pilot. The scout pulled up and passed ahead of us.
It rose and manoeuvred as if to dive from the front and bar the way.

Meanwhile, four specks, approaching from the west, had grown larger and
larger, until they were revealed as of the F.E. type--the British
"pusher" two-seater. The Boche saw them, and hesitated as they bore down
on him. Finding himself in the position of a lion attacked by hunters
when about to pounce on a tethered goat, he decided not to destroy, for
in so doing he would have laid himself open to destruction. When I last
saw him he was racing north-east.

There was now no obstacle to the long glide. As we went lower, the torn
ground showed up plainly. From 2000 feet I could almost count the
shell-holes. Two battery positions came into view, and near one of them
I saw tracks and could distinguish movements by a few tiny dots. It
became evident that, barring accident, we should reach the French zone.

When slightly behind the trenches a confused chatter from below told us
that machine-guns were trained on the machine. By way