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Just
then
I
heard
a
noise
in
the
sky
,
and
lo
and
behold
there
was
that
infernal
aeroplane
,
flying
low
,
about
a
dozen
miles
to
the
south
and
rapidly
coming
towards
me
.
I
had
the
sense
to
remember
that
on
a
bare
moor
I
was
at
the
aeroplane
's
mercy
,
and
that
my
only
chance
was
to
get
to
the
leafy
cover
of
the
valley
.
Down
the
hill
I
went
like
blue
lightning
,
screwing
my
head
round
,
whenever
I
dared
,
to
watch
that
damned
flying
machine
.
Soon
I
was
on
a
road
between
hedges
,
and
dipping
to
the
deep-cut
glen
of
a
stream
.
Then
came
a
bit
of
thick
wood
where
I
slackened
speed
.
Suddenly
on
my
left
I
heard
the
hoot
of
another
car
,
and
realized
to
my
horror
that
I
was
almost
up
on
a
couple
of
gate-posts
through
which
a
private
road
debouched
on
the
highway
.
My
horn
gave
an
agonized
roar
,
but
it
was
too
late
.
I
clapped
on
my
brakes
,
but
my
impetus
was
too
great
,
and
there
before
me
a
car
was
sliding
athwart
my
course
.
In
a
second
there
would
have
been
the
deuce
of
a
wreck
.
I
did
the
only
thing
possible
,
and
ran
slap
into
the
hedge
on
the
right
,
trusting
to
find
something
soft
beyond
.
But
there
I
was
mistaken
.
My
car
slithered
through
the
hedge
like
butter
,
and
then
gave
a
sickening
plunge
forward
.
I
saw
what
was
coming
,
leapt
on
the
seat
and
would
have
jumped
out
.
But
a
branch
of
hawthorn
got
me
in
the
chest
,
lifted
me
up
and
held
me
,
while
a
ton
or
two
of
expensive
metal
slipped
below
me
,
bucked
and
pitched
,
and
then
dropped
with
an
almighty
smash
fifty
feet
to
the
bed
of
the
stream
.
Slowly
that
thorn
let
me
go
.
I
subsided
first
on
the
hedge
,
and
then
very
gently
on
a
bower
of
nettles
.
As
I
scrambled
to
my
feet
a
hand
took
me
by
the
arm
,
and
a
sympathetic
and
badly
scared
voice
asked
me
if
I
were
hurt
.
I
found
myself
looking
at
a
tall
young
man
in
goggles
and
a
leather
ulster
,
who
kept
on
blessing
his
soul
and
whinnying
apologies
.
For
myself
,
once
I
got
my
wind
back
,
I
was
rather
glad
than
otherwise
.
This
was
one
way
of
getting
rid
of
the
car
.
"
My
blame
,
sir
,
"
I
answered
him
.
"
It
's
lucky
that
I
did
not
add
homicide
to
my
follies
.
That
's
the
end
of
my
Scotch
motor
tour
,
but
it
might
have
been
the
end
of
my
life
.
"
He
plucked
out
a
watch
and
studied
it
.
"
You
're
the
right
sort
of
fellow
,
"
he
said
.
"
I
can
spare
a
quarter
of
an
hour
,
and
my
house
is
two
minutes
off
.
I
'll
see
you
clothed
and
fed
and
snug
in
bed
.
Where
's
your
kit
,
by
the
way
?
Is
it
in
the
burn
along
with
the
car
?
"
"
It
's
in
my
pocket
,
"
I
said
,
brandishing
a
toothbrush
.
"
I
'm
a
colonial
and
travel
light
.
"
