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Netlips, the grocer, driving himself solemnly ever to Riversford one day, came back with a board 'a banner with a strange device' painted in blue letters on a white ground, which said: PETROL STORED HERE. This startling announcement became a marvel and a fascination to the eyes of the villagers, every one of them coming out of their houses to look at it, directly it was displayed.
It grunted and groaned and emitted evil-smelling fumes because it couldn't digest its petrol. Basil named the creature Old Blunderbore, but said he would not dare to call it so before its chauffeur-owner, who glared behind his goggles when it was blamed for anything.
The grease made us despatch riders look as if we were beginning to learn. I rode gently but surely down the side of the road into the gutter time after time. Pulling ourselves together, we managed to slide past some Indian transport without being kicked by the mules, who, whenever they smelt petrol, developed a strong offensive. Then we came upon a big gun, discreetly covered by tarpaulins.
The petrol tank had been filled, and, everything being in readiness, they would have nothing to do but jump aboard and make a quick start. But Tom was too old a pilot to take things for granted. After that recent experience with treachery he meant to be doubly careful before risking their lives in the air.
REQUIRED IMMEDIATELY, FOR East Africa, a thoroughly competent Plane and Dirigible Driver, acquainted with Petrol Radium and Helium motors and generators. Low-level work only, but must understand heavy-weight digs. MOSSAMEDES TRANSPORT ASSOC. 84 Palestine Buildings, E. C. MAN WANTED-DIG DRIVER for Southern Alps with Saharan summer trips.
Meanwhile Juve had received a cypher telegram at the police station, confirming the news, with the addition that, after replenishing the motor with petrol, they had set off again at once they had received a telegram. Juve and de Loubersac returned to the quay. "Our beauties will not be so long now," said he. With twilight the tempest had died down, night was falling fast.
Our bird again got on top, but there was no fight left in Fritz; he scooted for a hundred yards in the direction of home, but was winged while running, part of his left wing dropping off. The rest was easy; his machine became unmanageable, an explosive bullet smashed into his petrol tank and he dropped in flames.
Daly's driver was refilling the lamps with carbide, and when he finished asked for petrol. "Ye're for the road again," the man who brought the tin remarked. "For Langholm," replied the driver. "I don't expect we'll go farther to-night, but I must have things ready if the boss wants to go on."
He tightened the nut and turned to measure the petrol in the tank. A glance showed him that a mere drain only remained. "Curse it all," he muttered, "that's the second time that confounded nut has left me in the soup." His position was a trifle awkward. He was still some twenty-five kilometers from Bordeaux, and his machine would not carry him more than perhaps two.
Late in the afternoon we discovered we were very short of petrol, so I was sent off to Crécy in our famous captured car, with a requisition. We arrived amidst cheers. I strode into the nearest garage and demanded 100 litres of petrol.
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