I craned and peered around on all sides, but could see nothing else-- only the glare from the incendiary fire. The night was rapidly growing brighter, and we could see the stars. Again we heard a violent cannonade, and once more half a dozen beams of searchlights swept the sky from several points evidently much nearer to London. More than once the searchlights picked us up and examined us with suspicion, blinding us with their glare the while. Once more from below there came up two loud detonations--high explosive bombs--yet we could see no Zeppelin, though we peered into the darkness again as soon as the searchlight left us. Blinded by the glare, I had banked a little too steeply, and nearly had another bad nose-dive. Teddy noticed it, and said something, but what it was I could not hear for the roar. That an enemy airship was about, and that it had dropped incendiary bombs was proved by the three or four red glares we could distinctly see beneath us. No doubt the Zeppelin was moving fast, dropping her bombs preparatory to rising and escaping beyond the zone of our anti-aircraft guns. I rose higher, but still no sign of it. Apparently the searchlights, having once located it, had again lost it, for once more all the guns were silent. I began to lose heart. How horribly cold it was! I was now over London, unless I was much mistaken. Several other of our bomb-dropping aeroplanes were circling below me, also unable to find the Zeppelin. Suddenly Teddy gave me a sharp nudge and pointed upward. I glanced in the direction he indicated, and there saw the great long dark hull of the airship hovering quite near us. We were then over eight thousand feet up, and the airship was perhaps another thousand feet higher. I could distinguish its two gondolas, and as we passed near its stern its fins and planes were now plainly silhouetted against the bright, steely sky. With all speed possible I shot upward, but apparently the commander of the Zeppelin had discovered us, while at that very same moment a searchlight from somewhere below picked him up and revealed him, a huge silvery object, upon the side of which was painted in black a large iron-cross, the Hun badge of frightfulness, together with initial and number "L39." Scarcely had I become aware of the close proximity of the enemy when I saw a little spurt of red flare from the forward gondola. It continued for several moments, and I knew that it was a machine-gun spitting forth its leaden hail upon us. Therefore I drew away and rose still higher, while, next second, the propellers of the monster airship began to whirr and it started away, nose upward and due east, evidently upon its homeward journey.