At Kenneth’s shout Pariset turned his head, understood that some discovery had been made, and nodded. He did not at once prepare to alight. If Germans were in possession of the mill they would notice the sudden cessation of the noise of the propeller, which they must have heard, and might take warning from the descent of the aeroplane in their neighbourhood. Luckily he had been flying low, so that the course of the machine could not be followed for any considerable distance. Having run out of sight beyond a wood, he selected an open field for his descent, and alighted a few hundred yards from a farmhouse. "Have you found it?" asked Pariset eagerly. "I saw a mill and a railway bridge," replied Kenneth; "but we were going too fast for me to be sure it’s the right place." "Well, we shall have to find that out. We’ll get the farmer to help us run the machine into his yard, and then reconnoitre." The farmer and a group of his men were already hurrying towards them. In a few words Pariset enlisted their help. The aeroplane was run into the yard, and placed behind a row of ricks that concealed it from the outside. "We should like some bread and cheese and beer," Pariset said to the farmer. "May we come in?" "Surely, monsieur," was the reply. "Come in and welcome. Ah! these are terrible times. I don’t know how long I shall have a roof over my head. But they say the English are coming to help us. Is that true?" "Quite true. My friend here is an Englishman." "Thank God! Oh! les braves Anglais! All will be well now. Come in, messieurs; you shall have the best I can give you." CHAPTER VI--THE OLD MILL Sitting in the farm-kitchen, and eating the farmer’s homely fare, Pariset talked a little about the war, and led the way discreetly to the questions he was eager to ask. "The mill, monsieur? ’Tis twenty years since it was used. I used to send my corn to it, but nowadays I send it to Charleroi, where a steam-mill grinds it more cheaply. The old miller is a good friend of mine, but he retired twenty years ago; he’s a warm man, to be sure. That’s his house yonder:" he pointed to a cottage half a mile away across the fields. "We often have a gossip over a mug of beer." "It’s just as well he made his money before steam-mills became so common," said Pariset. "I suppose it wasn’t worth any one’s while to keep the water-mill going?" "No; there’s no money in milling of the old sort now. But it goes to my heart to see the old mill idle. Such a loss, too. But the miller can stand it; he’s a warm man, as I told you. And after all, he has made a little out of it lately. But it’s a come-down, that’s what I say." "It is idle, you said."