A little before eleven on the following night, the Germans on that partof the front were thrown into agitation by a sudden burst of unusuallyviolent gun-fire from the British artillery. Such a bombardment wascommonly preliminary to an infantry attack, and the German soldier,though brave enough, is no longer quite easy in mind at the prospect ofmeeting British "Tommies." The few men in the front trenches cowered onthe ground or in their dug-outs; the communication and support trenchesfilled up; and Verey lights illuminated the No Man's Land across whichthey expected the enemy to swarm when the bombardment ceased.
The deafening din and crash stopped as suddenly as it had begun. TheGermans rushed into their front trenches. But there was no sign ofmovement on the now brightly lit space. There was no rifle fire, nobombs, no sound of cheering. All was quiet. They were puzzled. Wasthe attack postponed? The shelling had not lasted long enough to do verymuch damage. Perhaps it was intended to frighten them. None wouldadmit that, if such were the object, it had succeeded. For a time theystood to arms, watchful, suspicious, uneasy. But the bombardment wasnot resumed. Nothing showed above the British parapets. They loosedoff a few shots to relieve their feelings; then settled down to theweary night-work of the trenches.
At the moment when this brief bombardment opened, Burton made his ascentfrom the aerodrome behind the British lines. At the moment when itceased he was circling behind the German lines, some 2000 feet in theair, vainly endeavouring to pick up the pre-arranged signal-lights inthe hollow. His flight had been carefully timed with the bombardment;he ought to have landed under cover of the noise; but the bestarrangements are apt to be nullified by the unforeseen. A mistblanketed the ground, dense enough to obscure completely any lights ofless than electric intensity.
This was baffling. It was also alarming. The purring of the engine,hitherto smothered by the continuous gun-fire, must now be distinctlyaudible below. One searchlight had already begun to play; before longthe aeroplane would be in the full glare of their intersecting rays.What should he do? To go back meant the breakdown of the whole scheme;the opportunity might not recur. Yet to land haphazard would be to courtdisaster; to land at all might throw him into the hands of patrols sentout to capture him.
While he was thus uneasily turning over the problem, his eyes, strainedearthward, suddenly discovered three tiny points of light arrangedtriangularly. They as suddenly disappeared; a puff of wind had for themoment broken the mist, which had then rolled back and obscured them.But the glimpse was enough to decide him. He dropped a thousand feet,wheeling, so far as he could judge by guesswork, around the spot atwhich he had seen the lights. Once more he caught sight of them; theywere brighter. Another searchlight was sweeping the sky: it was neck ornothing now. Keeping the lights in view, he dived steeply, coming toearth with a sharp jolt, within twenty paces of the apex of thetriangle. Before the machine had lost its impetus, however, it crashedagainst the stump of a tree at the edge of the hollow. Burton wasthrown forward in his seat; fortunately the strap prevented him frombeing hurled out. Recovering from the shock, he loosened the strap,climbed down, glanced around, and seeing no one, proceeded to examinethe forward part of the machine. He gave a gasp of dismay. Thepropeller was smashed.
The consequence of the disaster immediately flashed into his mind. Hecould only get back in company with the Rutlands. If they failed, hewould fail too.
He had just assured himself that the damage was irreparable with suchappliances as were at his command in the cave, when he became aware oflight footsteps rapidly approaching. Expecting to see some of theRutlands, who had been no doubt looking out for him, he raised his headtowards the crest of the rise. Next moment he was in the grasp of twomen, one of whom, mouthing guttural triumph, gripped his throat in astrangle hold.