se my steed and decided upon a big
"pusher," where both aviator and passenger sit forward with the
propeller and the roar of the motor behind them. She had been flown down
across England from the factory the day before and, tried out, was ready
for the channel passage.

"You'll take her over," said the master pilot to one of the group
waiting their turn.

Then it occurred to somebody that another official detail had been
overlooked, and I had to give my name and address and next of kin to
complete formalities which should impress novices, while youth looked on
smilingly at forty-three which was wise if not reckless. They put me in
an aviator's rig with the addition of a life-belt in case we should get
a ducking in the channel and I climbed up into my position for the long
run, a roomy place in the semi-circular bow of the beast which was
ordinarily occupied by a machine gun and gunner.

"She's a good old 'bus, very steady. You'll like her," said one of the
group of youngsters looking on.

There were no straps, these being quite unnecessary, but also there was
no seat.

"What is _a la mode_?" I asked.

"Stand up if you like!"

"Or sit on the edge and let your feet hang over!"

We were all laughing, for the aviation corps is never gloomy. It rises
and alights and fights and dies smilingly.

"I like your hospitality, but not having been trained to trapeze work
I'll play the Turk," I replied, squatting with legs crossed; and in this
position I was able to look over the railing right and left and forward.
The world was mine.

Flight being no new thing in the year 1916, I shall not indulge in any
rhetoric. The pertinence of the experience was entirely in the fact that
I was taking the aerial ferry which sent twenty planes a day to France
on an average and perhaps fifty when the weather had held up traffic the
previous day. I was to buffet the clouds instead of the waves on a
crowded steamer and have a glimpse behind the curtains of military
secrecy of the wonders of resource and organization, which are a
commonplace to the wonder-workers themselves.

It was to be a straight, business flight, a matter of routine, a flight
without any loitering on the way or covering unnecessary distance to
reach the destination. There would be risks enough for the plane when it
crossed into the enemy's area with its machine gun in position. The
gleam of two lines of steel of a railroad set our course. After we had
risen to a hei