"A lamb! A witch! Absolutely tophole when you get used to her." The tophole lamb and witch was a smallish biplane with no great wing spread, but powerfully engined, whose points N. explained to me as--her speed, her climbing angle, her wonderful stability, etc., while the Captain and Lieutenant hastened off to find the Major, who, appearing in due course, proved to be slender, merry-eyed and more youthful-looking than the Lieutenant. Indeed, so young seeming was he that upon better acquaintance I ventured to enquire his age, and he somewhat unwillingly owned to twenty-three. "But," said he, "I'm afraid we can't show you very much, the weather's so perfectly rotten for flying." "Oh, I don't know," said the Captain, glancing towards the witch-lamb, "I rather thought I'd like to try this new machine--if you don't mind, sir." "Same here," murmured the Lieutenant. "But you've never flown a Nieuport before, have you, eh?" enquired the Major. "No, sir, but--" "Nor you either, C.?" "No, sir, still--" "Then I'll try her myself," said the Major, regarding the witch-lamb joyous-eyed. "But," demurred the Captain, "I was rather under the impression you'd never flown one either." "I haven't--yet," laughed the Major, and hasted away for his coat and helmet. "Can you beat that?" exclaimed the Lieutenant. The Captain sighed and went to aid the Major into his leathern armour. Lightly and joyously the youthful Major climbed into the machine and sat awhile to examine and remark upon its unfamiliar features, while a sturdy mechanic stood at the propeller ready to start the engine. "By the way," said he, turning to address me. "You're staying to luncheon, of course?" "I'm afraid we can't," answered our Intelligence Officer. "Oh, but you must--I've ordered soup! Right-oh!" he called to his mechanician; the engine hummed, thundered, and roaring, cast back upon us a very gale of wind; the witch-lamb moved, slid forward over the grass, and gathering speed, lifted six inches, a yard, ten yards--and was in flight. "Can you beat that?" exclaimed the Captain enthusiastically, "lifted her clean away!" "I rather fancy he's about as good as they're made!" observed the Lieutenant. Meanwhile, the witch-lamb soared up and up straight as an arrow; up she climbed, growing rapidly less until she was a gnat against a background of fleecy cloud and the roar of the engine had diminished to a whine; up and up until she was a speck--until the clouds had swallowed her altogether. "Pity it isn't clear!" said the Captain. "I rather fancy you'd have seen some real flying. By the way, they're going to practise at the targets--might interest you. Care to see?"