In such a predicament, two things only can save the airman; one his height above the ground, the other his nerve and presence of mind. If he is flying low when his machine side-slips, nothing can avert disaster. Falling at first sideways in a helpless lurch, then diving violently, the craft will strike ground with shattering force--completely beyond its pilot’s control. But if the airman is flying high, and granted he is a man of experience, he may escape even the worst of side-slips, and how he does so is as follows: as his machine slips he puts forward his elevating-lever as far as it will go, throws over his rudder to help the action of the elevator, and sets his motor at its fullest power--these actions seeming, in themselves, merely to aggravate the peril by causing the craft to fall more quickly. But the pilot knows what he is doing; he knows that, so long as his craft slips sideways, it is impossible for his controlling planes to act, seeing that they are effective only when the machine moves forward through the air. What he seeks to do, therefore, is to convert the side-slip into a forward dive. If he can do this--if he has space for the manœuvre before the machine strikes ground--he knows he can avert disaster. In throwing over his elevating-lever, and accelerating his motor, his aim would be to make his machine fall forward more rapidly than it is slipping sideways; and, as a rule, under the combined thrust of the motor, and the extreme angles of elevating-plane and rudder, the craft will--after a sickening slip, perhaps of several hundred feet--begin to lose its sideway motion and plunge straight downward. His elevating plane will then become operative, tending to check this dive and bring up the bow of the machine; and at the same time, feeling he has regained control, the pilot will throttle down his motor so as to reduce the speed of his machine. In this way, responding to the action of its elevator, the craft will pause in its downward rush, and sweep forward again upon an even keel. But the actions of the pilot, in such a quandary, need to be accurately and boldly made; and unless his craft flies high, no skill can save it. If he has not a thousand feet or more below him, he will be dashed to death before his manœuvre has time to take effect. The moral, therefore, lay in flying high, and it was one that pilots respected. Instead of passing across country at a few hundred feet, they began soon to ascend 3000 feet and more; and at such altitudes, apart from the greater safety in case of side-slip, an airman found usually a steadier and less gusty wind, and was in a better position to choose some landing-point should his motor fail suddenly.