ace, wet with rain.
Strength, youth, rugged health was their first impression of this
leather-clad man from the clouds.

He stepped inside the house immediately, halted when he caught sight of
Wayland in his undress uniform, glanced involuntarily at his crutches and
bandaged leg, cast a quick, penetrating glance right and left; then he
spoke pleasantly in his hesitating, imperfect French--so oddly imperfect
that Wayland could not understand him at all.

"Who are you?" he demanded in English.

The airman seemed astonished for an instant, then a quick smile broke out
on his ruddy features:

"I say, this _is_ lucky! Fancy finding an Englishman here!--wherever this
place may be." He laughed. "Of course I know I'm 'somewhere in France,' as
the censor has it, but I'm hanged if I know where!"

"Come in and shut the door," said Wayland, reassured. Marie-Josephine
closed the door. The aeronaut came forward, stood dripping a moment, then
took the chair to which Wayland pointed, seating himself as though a
trifle tired.

"Shot down," he explained, gaily. "An enemy submarine winged us out yonder
somewhere. I tramped over these bally moors for hours before I found a
sign of any path. A sheepwalk brought me here."

"You are lucky. There is only one house on these moors--this! Who are
you?" asked Wayland.

"West--flight-lieutenant, 10th division, Cinque-Ports patrolling
squadron."

"Good heavens, man! What are you doing in Finistere?"

"_What!_"

"You are in Brittany, province of Finistere. Didn't you know it?"

The air-officer seemed astounded. Presently he said: "The dirty weather
foxed us. Then that fellow out yonder winged us. I was glad enough to see
a coast line."

"Did you fall?"

"No; we controlled our landing pretty well."

"Where did you land?"

There was a second's hesitation; the airman looked at Wayland, glanced at
his crippled leg.

"Out there near some woods," he said. "My pilot's there now trying to
patch up.... You are not French, are you?"

"American."

"Oh! A--volunteer, I presume."

"Foreign Legion--2d."

"I see. Back from the trenches with a leg."

"It's nearly well. I'll be back soon."

"Can you walk?" asked the airman so abruptly that Wayland, looking at him,
hesitated, he did not quite know why.

"Not very far," he replied, cautiously. "I can get to the window with my
crutches pretty well."

And the next moment he felt ashamed of his caution when the airman laughed
frankly.