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 Roseye was an illustration. I had often stood in breathless fear watching her bank in a manner that I should never have dared to, yet she had come to ground lightly as a bird, and hopped out of her seat laughing with the pure joy of living the exhilarating life in the air.

Truly the cobwebs are blown away from the brains and lungs of those who fly. Indeed, it is a chilly proceeding, even when indulged in during the dog days. Motoring without a wind-screen is considered rough by many people, but let them fly an aeroplane at forty miles an hour at 8,000 or 10,000 feet on any day. It is always chilly in the air, and by our thermometer that afternoon we both knew that we should have a cold night-flight.

Beyond the little front garden of the farm, a square ill-kept grass patch, bordered by neglected standard roses, was a big grass-field, while beyond lay the open down sloping away to the valley. At each corner of the field we had already placed big acetylene lights, ready charged, so that after we left, old Theed could light them to show us our landing-place, for a descent at night is always dangerous, especially if there is no landmark and the night be dark.

Through those exciting days of our sojourn at Holly Farm, I, assisted by Teddy and Roseye, had worked night and day attending to every detail. Indeed, at six o'clock that very morning—almost before the grey dawn—I had gone round to these four lamps, the intense white light of which would be visible for many miles, and lit and tested them in order to assure myself that all was in working order.

The afternoon wore on. Mulliner brought us out