"Bit of sheer hard luck," he replied, in answer to Derek's question as to how he came to be hit. "Had a chance of a lifetime. Caught a whole Boche battalion out in the open and started machine-gunning the bounders. Put the wind up them properly; they scooted like hares. Used up all my ammunition and, like Oliver Twist, came back for more. I got more--of a different sort. A bullet through the arm--that didn't worry me very much--and then a regular crump. Thought the old 'bus was blown to bits. Felt like it anyhow. But she wasn't, so I managed to pancake just behind some tanks and here I am. Who's the old bird?" "The old bird," repeated Derek, "is a pal of yours." "Don't know him," replied Rippondene, raising his head and looking across to the other stretcher. "Haven't had much to do with fellows in the Tank Corps, and so I'll swear I haven't met him. Bet you a sovereign on it." "Don't throw good money away," protested Daventry. "This is Count von Peilfell." "Rot!" ejaculated the Flight-Commander. "Fact," declared Derek; "and I'll explain why he's in this rig." "Another time, old thing," said Rippondene feebly. "I'm feeling jolly rummy. I'm----" "He's fainted, sir," announced the Corporal in charge of the party. "We'll soon fix him up all right when we get to the dressing-station. And, sir----" "Yes; what is it?" "It looks as if there's something wrong with this Hun, sir." The stretcher-party halted. The Corporal turned Von Peilfell's head and placed a finger upon one of his wide-open eyes. Not a muscle on the Hun airman's face quivered. "He's gone west, sir," said the Corporal. "'Tain't much good carrying a corpse. There's plenty of living who want bearing off." The bearers set the stretcher on the ground. Deftly the R.A.M.C. man examined the corpse. The cause of the spy's death was soon evidenced. While he was being carried off a chance bullet had struck him, passing through his heart. Without a groan or a struggle, Hertz von Peilfell's career had ended--ignominiously. "I'll take my men back, sir, if I may," suggested the N.C.O. "Yes, carry on," replied Derek. Without ceremony the dead German airman was placed by the trunk of a shattered tree, and the bearers returned to their work of succour; while Derek, who was beginning to feel the effect of his strenuous work, set out in the direction of the still distant air-sheds. CHAPTER XVI The Shell-crater