"Accident be jiggered!" said the farmer. "You don't come breaking into
my yard by accident. Better stand quiet or he'll tear you to bits."

"Oh, come now!" said Smith. "Look at this. Here's my aeroplane, fixed
up here. You don't suppose I came down here on purpose? I lost my way
in this confounded mist, and don't know where I am. Just be sensible,
there's a decent chap, and get some of your men to help us out. I'll
pay damages."

"I'll take care of that," said the farmer curtly. "What the country's
coming to I don't know, what with motors killing us on the roads and
now these here airyplanes making the very air above us poison to
breathe. There ought to be a law to stop it, that's what _I_ say.
Down, Pompey! What's your name, mister?"

Smith explained, asking in his turn the name of the place where he had
alighted. Farmer Barton was a good patriot, and the knowledge that the
intruder was a navy-man sensibly moderated his truculence.

"Why, this be Firtop Farm, half-a-mile from Mottisfont station, if you
know where that is," he said. "Daze me if you hain't been and cut into
my hayrick!" He sniffed. "And what's this horrible smell? I do believe
you've spoilt the whole lot with your stinking oil." He was getting
angry again.

"Well, I've said I'll pay for it," said Smith impatiently. "Get your
men, farmer, or I shan't be home to-night. I suppose I can get some
petrol somewhere about here?"

"You might, or you might not, in the village; I can't say. My men are