There was no traffic at this spot, and they at once began to examine the engine.
"The plugs are choked," said Pariset after a few moments. "Luckily it’s only a five minutes’ job."
"Hadn’t we better wheel the machine round the corner of the wood?" suggested Kenneth. "We don’t know but that some Germans may come up at any moment."
But they had hardly moved the machine three yards when they heard the clatter of hoofs, and a patrol of Uhlans came dashing round a bend in the road. Neither hedge nor dyke bordered the field, and the Uhlans rode straight across it towards the aeroplane.
"We are in for it!" said Pariset, hastily adjusting his bandage. "For goodness’ sake try to bluff it out."
Kenneth went hot and cold; his brain seemed paralysed; and when the Uhlans reined up a few yards away he had cudgelled his wits in vain for something to say. A lead was given him by the lieutenant in command.
"Do you want any help, Herr Captain?" he said. "I saw you come down suddenly, and guessed there was something wrong."
"Thanks; it is a mere trifle," replied Kenneth somewhat breathlessly. "Two of the sparking plugs need cleaning. In five minutes we shall be up again."
He bent down to assist Pariset, who had turned his back and was unscrewing the plugs.
"Have you been hit?" asked the lieutenant, noticing the bandage.
"No, luckily; he ought to have gone to the dentist long ago, but couldn’t bear the idea of losing a moment at a time like this. A swollen jaw is very painful; you can’t eat with any comfort. The only thing to do is to bandage it tightly. But he’ll have to go to the dentist."
"You’re not attached to the 4th army corps, are you? I haven’t noticed you among our airmen."
"We are on special service," said Kenneth, feeling that matters were getting warm in spite of the officer’s apparent freedom from suspicion. "You’ll excuse me, won’t you? we are anxious to get to Liége."
He watched the two men at their work, remarking that it was a very dirty job.
Meanwhile one of the troopers had been edging his horse close to the aeroplane. Pariset, out of the corner of his eye, noticed him looking at it critically. He bent down to examine one of the planes, gave a grunt of satisfaction, and glanced at his officer, as if wondering whether he might venture to address him directly. Concluding that this might be a breach of discipline, he backed gently towards the Wachtmeister--the sergeant-major through whom he might communicate with the lieutenant without being snubbed.