the north-west, and the aeroplane passed over the Galata bridge that
spans the Golden Horn. The bridge was thronged with people, who, as
they caught sight of the strange machine flying over their heads,
stood and craned their necks, and the airmen heard their shouts of
amazement. To the right they saw, beyond the hill of Pera, a stretch
of low open country. Passing the second bridge over the Horn, they
came to a broad green space just without the city. It was the old
archery grounds of the Sultans.

"Dive, Roddy!" Smith cried.

Rodier jerked the lever back: the humming clatter of the engine
ceased; and the aeroplane swooped down as gracefully as a bird,
alighting gently on the green sward.




CHAPTER IV

A FLYING VISIT


It was Friday morning. Groups of Turkish women, out for the day,
hastily veiled their faces and ran away, shrieking, "Aman! Aman! oh
dear! oh dear!" Swarms of children, clustering, like ants, about
nougat-sellers, fled in terror, screaming that it was the devil's
carriage, and the devil was in it. Two Greek teams playing at football
stopped their game and gazed open-mouthed; young naval cadets at
leapfrog rushed with shouts of excitement towards the aeroplane; and a