``I hope they are all right,'' said someone, ``and that
they haven't had difficulties with the fog. It rolled up very
quickly, you know.''
``Never fear,'' remarked a Flight-Commander. ``I know
the Pilot well and he's a good 'un; far too good to carry on
into a fog.''
``They say the machine is really something out of the
ordinary,'' said another, ``and that, for once, the Designer
has been allowed full play; that he hasn't been forced to
unduly standardize ribs, spars, struts, etc., and has more
or less had his 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.
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