"Merci bien," said Tinker, lowering the rope ladder.
The gendarme held it steady, and the financier descended gingerly.
When he was off it, and the gendarme had loosed it, Tinker said "Au
revoir! and mind you wire to my father at once, and let the grapnel
rope slip out of the windlass." Lightened of the financier, the
machine shot up into the air.
Tinker's task was done: he had only to restore the machine to Herr
Schlugst; but he had a long while to wait. He realised suddenly that
he was hungry and very, very sleepy. By letting some gas escape, he
reduced the machine to a controllable buoyancy, and set about warming
the coffee which the thoughtful Herr Schlugst had ready made. Then
with brown bread, butter, and German sausage, he made an excellent
breakfast. It was light by the time he had finished; and he set about
looking for a sleeping-place, for he could not keep awake long. A wood
on a hill some miles away seemed to him the spot he sought. He swooped
gently for it, and was soon anchored to a tree-top and sleeping
peacefully. It was past noon when a shouting awoke him. He looked
down to find the wood full of people, four or five bold photographic
spirits in the tree to which he was anchored, but nowhere near his
grapnel, which was among the smaller branches.
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