There was no sign of horses; but only a great bat-like machine with out-stretched pinions of taut white canvas, and by that machine a man clad from head to foot in brown overalls.
John stumbled down the slope.

As he neared the machine he stopped and gasped.
"Kara," he said, and the brown man smiled.
"But, I do not understand.

What are you going to do!" asked Lexman, when he had recovered from his surprise.
"I am going to take you to a place of safety," said the other.
"I have no reason to be grateful to you, as yet, Kara," breathed Lexman.
"A word from you could have saved me." "I could not lie, my dear Lexman.

And honestly, I had forgotten the existence of the letter; if that is what you are referring to, but I am trying to do what I can for you and for your wife." "My wife!" "She is waiting for you," said the other.
He turned his head, listening.
Across the moor came the dull sullen boom of a gun.
"You haven't time for argument.

They discovered your escape," he said.
"Get in." John clambered up into the frail body of the machine and Kara followed.
"This is a self-starter," he said, "one of the newest models of monoplanes." He clicked over a lever and with a roar the big three-bladed tractor screw spun.
The aeroplane moved forward with a jerk, ran with increasing gait for a hundred yards, and then suddenly the jerky progress ceased.