"Land ahead!"

The hail brought Fosterdyke and Bramsdean from their cabins with the utmost alacrity. They had not expected to sight Australia for another hour and a half, and now there was certainly land far away to the east'ard.

During the last three hours the clear sky had given place to a thick bank of dark clouds. Observations to determine the "Golden Hind's" position were therefore out of the question. She was steering a compass course with the wind almost dead aft. It was a case of dead reckoning, and now no one knew exactly what part of Western Australia they were approaching--whether it was north or south of the Fremantle aerodrome.

"We'll do it before dark," declared Fosterdyke, confidently.

He had hardly spoken when Murgatroyd's head and shoulders appeared through the hatchway of the navigation-room.

"We're on the last few gallons of petrol, sir," he reported. "I've me doubts if the engines'll run another ten minutes. They're slowing down now," he added.

"Switch off all but numbers 1 and 2 motors," ordered the baronet. "Keep these running for twenty minutes if you can, and we'll manage it."

But before the chief engineer could regain the for'ard motor-room the six aerial propellers were motionless. The "Golden Hind" no longer drove through the air, but simply drifted broadside on to the strong breeze.

Just as the sun sank in the Indian Ocean the airship crossed the coastline. Ten miles to the north could be discerned Perth and Fremantle--ten miles that, as far as the "Golden Hind" was concerned might have been a thousand.

"Down with her," ordered Fosterdyke. "Stand by with both grapnels. We'll have to trust to luck to find a good anchoring-ground."

It was not until the airship had passed over the railway running southward from Perth to Busselton that Kenyon noted a hill that might afford shelter from the strong wind.

Rapidly several thousand cubic feet of brodium were exhausted from the ballonets, with the result that the "Golden Hind" dropped to within a hundred feet of the ground.

There was just sufficient twilight to make out the nature of the landing place. It was a wide belt of grassland, dotted here and there with small trees. Hedges there were none.

"There are a couple of men on horseback, sir," reported Frampton.

"Good," replied Fosterdyke. "Let go both grapnels. See how she takes that."

Both of the stout barbed hooks engaged the moment they touched the ground. Even though the wire ropes were paid out in order to reduce the strain, the jerk was severe. Round swung the giant airship head to wind, but still she dragged. The grapnels had caught in a wire fence, and having uprooted half a dozen posts, were doing their level best to remove a five-mile sheep fence.

Up galloped the two farmers. The uprooting of their boundary fence hardly troubled them. The arrival of the airship--the first they had ever seen--occupied all their attention.

"Make fast for us, please," hailed Fosterdyke, having ordered another rope to be lowered.

"Right-o," was the reply. "We'll fix you up."

Dismounting and tethering their somewhat restive horses, the two Australians took the end of the third wire rope to the trunk of a large tree-the only one for miles, as it so happened. Fortunately they knew how to make a rope fast--an accomplishment that few people other than seamen possess.

"Where are we?" asked the baronet.

"In Minto County, ten miles from Kelmscott," was the reply.

"Any petrol to be had hereabouts?"

"Sure," was the unexpected answer. "How much do you want?"

"A hundred gallons--enough to take us to Fremantle," replied Fosterdyke rather dubiously.

"Two hundred if you want," offered the good Samaritan. "I'll run it along in less than an hour."

"Will to-morrow at daybreak do equally as well?" asked Sir Reginald, knowing the difficulty and possible danger of handling quantities of the highly volatile spirit in the dark. "We'll be all right here until morning if the wind doesn't increase."

"It won't," declared the farmer, confidently. "If anything it'll fall light. If you're in a hurry, I'll hitch you on to my motor lorry and tow you into Fremantle."

Fosterdyke thanked him and begged to be excused on the score that he was obliged by the terms of the race to make a flight without outside assistance in the matter of propulsion.

The two Australians, declining an invitation to go on board the airship, rode away in the darkness.

As the farmer had predicted, the wind fell away to a dead calm, so the airship was able to rest upon the ground, but ready, should the breeze spring up, to ascend to a hundred feet and there ride it out until the promised petrol was forthcoming.

"Now for our first dinner on or over Australian soil," exclaimed Fosterdyke. "By Jove, I'm hungry! What's going?"

He scanned the menu card. The cooks on the airship were good men at their work, and dinner, whenever circumstances permitted, was rather a formal affair.

"Hullo!" exclaimed Peter. "Covers laid for four, eh?"

"Yes," replied the baronet. "I'm expecting a guest. Ah! here he is. Let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Trefusis."

Kenyon and Bramsdean could hardly conceal their astonishment, for standing just inside the doorway, immaculately dressed in well-cut clothes, was the man they had hitherto known as Otto Freising, the fellow who had attempted to shoot Fosterdyke at Alexandria.

"Secret Service," explained the baronet. "Had to keep the affair dark, even from you two fellows."

"You certainly did us in the eye," said Peter.

"No more than I did SeÑor Jaures," rejoined Trefusis. "I had a rotten time cooped up with that bird, but it was worth it."

"So you've succeeded?" asked Fosterdyke.

Trefusis nodded.

"Wouldn't be here if I hadn't," he remarked. "It took me some time to get the right side of SeÑor Enrico, but I managed it. He rather looked a bit sideways at me when I pitched a yarn about being a Hun. However, I've got it out of him that he was employed by von Sinzig to kipper your part of the show, and judging by accounts he almost succeeded. You'll have enough evidence, Fosterdyke, to disqualify von Sinzig."

"I'll think about it," drawled the baronet. "After all's said and done the Hun is a sport, only his idea of sport differs radically from ours. It's his nature, I suppose. But another time you fire at me with blank cartridges, Trefusis, old son, please don't aim at my head. Grains of burnt powder in one's eyes aren't pleasant."

"Nor did I feel very pleasant," rejoined the Secret Service man, "when that officious blighter suggested putting me under arrest and trying me in a Civil Court. He must have thought you pretty high-handed, rushing me off in your airship."

"Yes, it was as well I took Colonel Holmes into my confidence," said Fosterdyke. "Otherwise you might at this moment be cooling your heels in a 'Gippy' prison. However, we've got evidence against von Sinzig, if needs be."

"What are you going to do with SeÑor Jaures?" asked Trefusis.

"Do with him? Nothing much. Fact, I'll do it now, directly we've finished dinner."

The meal over, Fosterdyke ordered Enrico Jaures to be brought in. The look on the miscreant's features was positively astounding when he found his former companion in captivity revealed in his true colours.

"Now, Enrico Jaures," began Fosterdyke, without further preliminaries. "You understand English, in spite of your previous denial. Read that. If you agree to it, you are a free man the moment you've signed the statement."

At the promise of liberty Enrico plucked up courage. He had a wholesome respect for the word of an Englishman.

The document was in the form of a confession, stating that Enrico Jaures had agreed, for a certain sum promised by Count Karl von Sinzig, to hinder, either by crippling or destroying the "Golden Hind," Sir Reginald Fosterdyke's attempt to fly round the world.

"I'll sign," said Enrico.

He wrote his name. Kenyon and Trefusis witnessed the signature.

The baronet folded the document and placed it in his pocket.

"Now you can go," he said.

"But how am I to return to Gibraltar?" asked Jaures.

"That's your affair," replied Fosterdyke, sternly. "You ought to be thankful you're still alive. Now go."

At the first sign of dawn the Australian farmer, true to his word, arrived with a large motor-lorry piled with filled petrol cans. He was not alone. The seemingly sparsely-populated district now teemed with people. Hundreds must have seen the "Golden Hind" pass overhead the previous evening, but how they discovered the airship's temporary anchorage was a mystery. There were townsmen in motorcars, sturdy farmers on motor-cycles, waggons, and carts, backwoodsmen on bicycles and on foot. Even the "sun-downer" class were represented.

The "Golden Hind" had just completed her preparations for flying back to Fremantle aerodrome when a motor-cyclist rode up and handed Fosterdyke a telegram.

"It was fortunate we didn't make Fremantle last night," observed the baronet, handing the message to Kenyon and Bramsdean. "The aerodrome was destroyed by fire at one o'clock this morning."