"Out of essence–he’s got to come down," said Harry, appraisingly, to Dick. "He’ll manage it all right, too. He knows his business through and through, that chap." "I wonder where he’ll land," speculated Dick. "He’s got to pick an open space, of course," said Harry. "And there aren’t so many of them around here. By Jove!" "Look! He’s certainly coming down fast!" exclaimed Dick. "Yes–and, I say, I think he’s heading for this meadow! Come on–start that motor, Dick!" "Why? Don’t you want him to see us?" "I don’t mind him seeing us–I don’t want him to see the car," explained Harry. "We’ll run it around that bend, out of sight from the meadow." "Why shouldn’t he see it?" "Because if he’s out of petrol he’ll want to take all we’ve got and we may not want him to have it. We don’t know who he is, yet." The car was moving as Harry explained. As soon as the meadow was out of sight Harry stopped the engine and got out of the car. "He may have seen it as he was coming down–the car, I mean," he said. "But I doubt it. He’s got other things to watch. That meadow for one–and all his levers and his wheel. Guiding an aeroplane in a coast like that down the air is no easy job." "Have you ever been up, Harry?" "Yes, often. I’ve never driven one myself, but I believe I could if I had to. I’ve watched other people handle them so often that I know just about everything that has to be done." "That’s an English monoplane. I’ve seen them ever so often," said Dick. "It’s an army machine, I mean. See its number? It’s just coming in sight of us now. Wouldn’t I like to fly her though?" "I’d like to know what it’s doing around here," said Harry. "And it seems funny to me if an English army aviator has started out without enough petrol in his tank to see him through any flight he might be making. And wouldn’t he have headed for one of his supply stations as soon as he found he was running short, instead of coming down in country like this?" Dick stared at him. "Do you think it’s another spy?" he asked. "I don’t think anything about it yet, Dick. But I’m not going to be caught napping. That’s a Bleriot–and the British army flying corps uses Bleriots. But anyone with the money can buy one and make it look like an English army ’plane. Remember that." There was no mistake about that monoplane when it was once down. Its pilot was German; he was unmistakably so. He had been flying very high and when he landed he was still stiff from cold. "Petrol!" he cried eagerly, as he saw the two boys, "Where can I get petrol? Quick! Answer me!" Harry shot a quick glance at Dick. "Come on," he said, beneath his breath. "We’ve got to get him and tie him up."