He pulled himself back into the carriage, and Peter leaned out of the window in his turn.  It was as the other had said.  Flares and sudden flashes, that came and went more like summer-lightning than anything else, lit up the whole sky-line, but nearer at hand a steady glow from one or two places showed in the sky.  One could distinguish flights of illuminated tracer bullets, and now and again what he took to be Very lights exposed the countryside.  Peter saw that they were in a siding, the banks of which reached just above the top of the compartments.  It was only by craning that he could see fields and what looked like a house beyond.  Men were leaning out of all the windows, mostly in silence.  In the compartment next them a man cursed the Huns for spoiling his beauty sleep.  It was slightly overdone, Peter thought.

“Good God!” said, his companion behind him.  “Listen!”

It was difficult, but between the louder explosions Peter concentrated his senses on listening.  In a minute he heard something new, a faint buzz in the air.

“Aeroplanes,” said Langton coolly.  “I hope they don’t spot us.  Let me see.  Maybe it’s our planes.”  He craned out in Peter’s place.  “I can’t see anything,” he said, “and you can hear they’re flying high.”

Down the train everyone was staring upwards now.  “Christ!” exclaimed Langton suddenly, “some fool’s lighting a pipe!  Put that match out there,” he called.

Other voices took him up.  “That’s better,” he said in a minute.  “Forgive my swearing, padre, but a match might give us away.”

Peter was silent, and, truth to tell, terrified.  He tried hard not to feel it, and glanced at Jenks.  He was still asleep, and breathing heavily.  He pressed his face against the pane, and tried to stare up too.

“They’re coming,” said Langton suddenly and quickly.  “There they are, too—­Hun planes.  They may not see us, of course, but they may....”  He brought his head in again and sat down.

“Is there anything we can do?” said Peter.

“Nothing,” said Langton, “unless you like to get under the seat.  But that’s no real good.  It’s on the knees of the gods, padre, whatever gods there be.”

Just then Peter saw one.  Sailing obliquely towards them and lit by the light of a flare, the plane looked serene and beautiful.  He watched it, fascinated.

“It’s very low—­two hundred feet, I should say,” said Langton behind him.  “Hope he’s no pills left.  I wonder whether there’s another.  Let’s have a look the other side.”

He had scarcely got up to cross the compartment when the rattle of a machine-gun very near broke out.  “Our fellows, likely,” he exclaimed excitedly, struggling with the sash, but they knew the truth almost as he spoke.

Langton ducked back.  A plane on the other side was deliberately flying up the train, machine-gunning.  “Down, padre, for God’s sake!” he exclaimed, and threw himself on the floor.