Burton stood motionless. Schnauzzahn was a little to his left. Bramarbas faced him, holding the revolver. The captain suddenly fired off two rapid shots, moving the revolver to the right so as to avoid hitting his prisoner. The airman’s life is punctuated by swift decisions, depends on the perfect co-ordination of act with thought. Burton’s mind worked quicker than lightning. Before the German had time to cover him again, he shot out his right arm, rigid as a rod of metal, struck up the captain’s wrist with a sharp jerk that sent the revolver flying, and a fraction of a second later dealt him with the left fist a fierce upper cut beneath the jaw, and lifted him into the bushes. A bullet scorched Burton’s cheek as he spun round to deal with Schnauzzahn. Another stung his left shoulder. But he hurled himself upon the agitated lieutenant, and with a sledge-hammer blow sent him to join his captain. There was now only the sergeant to dispose of. That worthy stood over the prostrate farmer some little distance away, and though he had heard the thudding blow and the crash as each of his superiors fell, he had not clearly seen what had happened. Burton was dashing towards him when a Verey light illumined the scene. And then the sergeant was transfixed with amazement and terror, for on one side of him he saw the figure of a British airman, on the other, sprinting up towards the lip of the hollow, a score of silent forms in the well-known khaki. Ordinarily, no doubt, he was a brave man, but at such a moment as this valour melted in discretion. He flung up his hands. [Illustration: HANDS UP!] The German officers meanwhile had picked themselves up. They were surrounded and seized. The light had died away. "Quick!" said Hedley. "I hear the Huns rushing out of the farm. Where’s Lumineau?" The farmer had risen, and came to him. "Get away to the cave," said Burton. "I’ll be after you in a second: must fire the machine." He rushed to the aeroplane, poured some petrol out and applied a match, and as the flame shot up into the air, dashed after the Rutlands and their three prisoners, who, under the guidance of the farmer, were disappearing into the wood. Five minutes later, when the Pomeranians arrived on the scene, their amazed eyes beheld only a blazing aeroplane; not a man was in sight. Arriving at the cave, the panting Englishmen threw themselves down; some laughed silently; the spectacle of three gagged Germans was very pleasing. "What brought you up so opportunely?" asked Burton. "Not the shots? There wasn’t time." "No. Old Jacqueline warned us. She missed the officers, saw the open window, and guessed that they had got on the track of Lumineau. Trust a Frenchwoman’s wits! But I say, what’s your news?" "It couldn’t be better. The Brigadier, as it happened, had ordered an attack on the German trenches for to-night. When your C.O. explained the circumstances, he was quite keen to fit his arrangements to our scheme."