Thirst was my chief torment. My tongue was like a stick, and to
make it worse I could hear the cool drip of water from the mill-
lade. I watched the course of the little stream as it came in from the
moor, and my fancy followed it to the top of the glen, where it
must issue from an icy fountain fringed with cool ferns and mosses.
I would have given a thousand pounds to plunge my face into that.
I had a fine prospect of the whole ring of moorland. I saw the
car speed away with two occupants, and a man on a hill pony
riding east. I judged they were looking for me, and I wished them
joy of their quest.
But I saw something else more interesting. The house stood
almost on the summit of a swell of moorland which crowned a sort
of plateau, and there was no higher point nearer than the big hills
six miles off. The actual summit, as I have mentioned, was a
biggish clump of trees--firs mostly, with a few ashes and beeches.
On the dovecot I was almost on a level with the tree-tops, and
could see what lay beyond. The wood was not solid, but only a
ring, and inside was an oval of green turf, for all the world like a
big cricket-field.
I didn't take long to guess what it was. It was an aerodrome, and
a secret one. The place had been most cunningly chosen. For
suppose anyone were watching an aeroplane descending here, he
would think it had gone over the hill beyond the trees.
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