Air Stories — page 71: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BREECHES OF DISCIPLINE ‘‘A Hun!’’ he blurted. ‘‘ How the devil did you get here ? You surrender, of course ? ”’ The smile, which a moment before had lit the stranger’s face, vanished. ‘* Please not to use that word again,’’ he snapped. ‘‘It is not what one gentleman expects from another.’’ Nobby felt his face redden. After all, the fellow had helped him, and seemed a decent sort. ‘*Sorry,’’ he mumbled. ‘‘ Force of habit, you know. But how did you get here ? ’’ The German pilot pointed across the field to where a trim biplane, its engine ticking over, was facing up-wind, evi- dently ready for a quick take-off. ‘‘A Roland!’’ exclaimed Nobby blankly. ‘‘ Why, I was having a scrap with one ...’’ he broke off suddenly. ‘‘Were you the fellow I was sparring with ? ’’ he demanded with a thin smile. The German bowed slightly—mock- ingly it almost seemed—from the waist. | ‘‘T fad that honour,’’ he replied. ‘‘T landed for the purpose of offering my apologies for setting fire to your aeroplane. Normally, I should not apolo- gise, but I had been drachen—you know, balloon ‘ strafing ’,’’ he continued. ‘‘I can only assume that an incendiary bullet was accidentally placed in the belt by a careless loader. With my apologies—which I trust you will do me the politeness to accept—lI proffer you my sincere congratulations on your fortunate escape.’’ While he had been speaking in the painstakingly accurate English of the educated, high-caste German, Nobby was regarding him with interest. It was not so much the words he uttered, though they were surprising enough in the cir- cumstances, but the individual himself who interested him. When he had finished, Nobby held out his hand : ‘I’m probably guilty of fraternising with the enemy, and due to be shot at dawn, and all that,’’ he remarked, ‘‘ but all the same I’d like to say you’re a darned good sportsman.” The other drew himself up stiffly to atten- tion, then he clicked his heels and bowed. ‘*I have the honour to introduce myself : the Leutnant Count Ejitel von Dortmusse,’’ he announced. Sudden astonishment showed Nobby’s eyes, then, also coming to attention, he gave a very fair imitation of both the click and the bow. ‘* Come off the high horse, Dormouse,’’ he grinned. ‘‘ Don’t you remember me ? ”’ Von Dortmusse started in surprise, then peered into the Englishman’s face. A smile of recognition lighted up’ his rather saturnine features and he clapped him on the shoulders with both hands : ‘*Nobbee Clarke !’’ he proclaimed. ‘*Nobbee Clarke! Gott im Himmel. Nobbee—and to think I tried to shoot you down! Forgive me, dear friend. Ach, leider! This war—that makes us kill our friends. It is terrible ! ’’ ‘‘Never mind, old thing,’’ Nobby reminded him, ‘‘I tried to do the same to you. It’salong way from...’’ ‘‘, . . Tipperary,’’ interposed the Ger- man quickly and with evident pride. ‘‘ Well—yes,’’ agreed Nobby, ‘‘ but I was going to say Brasenose. I knew we’d met somewhere as soon as I spotted that beak of yours, but I didn’t think of pre-War Oxford for the moment. Look here, old bean, will you lend me your trousers for a few minutes ? ”’ es Y—my trousers? ’’ gasped the astonished German. ‘‘ Did you Say trousers? ”’ ** Yes—so I can go and have break- fast. This is really a most providential meeting. I'll let you. have ’em back ; honour bright I will.’’ ‘*I do not understand, Nobbee. We are men now, not undergraduate students. My trousers ? Is it a joke ? ”’ *“Not by a dashed long way. Stop that revolving bit of old iron of yours for a minute and I’ll tell you a story. I'll spin your prop. for you when you want to beetle off again.’’ ‘*But am I not your prisoner? ”’ asked the German ironically. ‘“Shut up. Don’t be an ass,’’ Nobby laughed. Together, they walked over to the 165 EO LOO) in ° ©