and the rattle
of machine-gun fire. "That's near," he said. "Over the town, I should
say--an air-raid, though it may be long-distance firing. Come and see for
yourself."

He pulled himself back into the carriage, and Peter leaned out of the
window in his turn. It was as the other had said. Flares and sudden
flashes, that came and went more like summer-lightning than anything
else, lit up the whole sky-line, but nearer at hand a steady glow from
one or two places showed in the sky. One could distinguish flights of
illuminated tracer bullets, and now and again what he took to be Very
lights exposed the countryside. Peter saw that they were in a siding, the
banks of which reached just above the top of the compartments. It was
only by craning that he could see fields and what looked like a house
beyond. Men were leaning out of all the windows, mostly in silence. In
the compartment next them a man cursed the Huns for spoiling his beauty
sleep. It was slightly overdone, Peter thought.

"Good God!" said, his companion behind him. "Listen!"

It was difficult, but between the louder explosions Peter concentrated
his senses on listening. In a minute he heard something new, a faint buzz
in the air.

"Aeroplanes," said Langton coolly. "I hope they don't spot us. Let me
see. Maybe it's our planes." He craned out in Peter's place. "I can't see
anything," he said, "and you can hear they're flying high."

Down the train everyone was staring upwards now. "Christ!" exclaimed
Langton suddenly, "some fool's lighting a pipe! Put that match out
there," he called.

Other voices took him up. "That's better," he said in a minute. "Forgive
my swearing, padre, but a match might give us away."

Peter was silent, and, truth to tell, terrified. He tried hard not to
feel it, and glanced at Jenks. He was still asleep, and breathing
heavily. He pressed his face against the pane, and tried to stare up too.

"They're coming," said Langton suddenly and quickly. "There they are,
too--Hun planes. They may not see us, of course, but they may...." He
brought his head in again and sat down.

"Is there anything we can do?" said Peter.

"Nothing," said Langton, "unless you like to get under the seat. But
that's no real good. It's on the knees of the gods, padre, whatever gods
there be."

Just then Peter saw one. Sailing obliquely towards them and lit by the
light of a flare, the plane looked serene and beautiful. He watched it,
fascinated.

"It's