"Doe accident, thag you," he replied miserably. "Somethig's gone wrong
with the worgs, but it's nothing serious, worse luck."

M. Feriaud, having by this time adjusted the defect in his engine, rose
to his feet, and bowed.

"Excuse if we come down on your lawn. But not long do we trespass. See,
_mon ami_," he said radiantly to Roland, "all now O. K. We go on."

"No," said Roland decidedly.

"No? What you mean--no?"

A shade of alarm fell on M. Feriaud's weather-beaten features. The
eminent bird-man did not wish to part from Roland. Toward Roland he
felt like a brother, for Roland had notions about payment for little
aeroplane rides which bordered upon the princely.

"But you say--take me to France with you----"

"I know. But it's all off. I'm not feeling well."

"But it's all wrong." M. Feriaud gesticulated to drive home his point.
"You give me one hundred pounds to take you away from Lexingham. Good.
It is here." He slapped his breast pocket. "But the other two hundred
pounds which also you promise me to pay me when I place you safe in
France, where is that, my friend?"

"I will give you two hundred and fifty," said Roland earnestly, "to
leave me here, and go right away, and never let me see your beastly