The Scotchman had signed his name to the document certifying to the stop of the flyers at Kuka,--the paper on which they were to secure certifications at every scheduled airport,--and they were just in the act of starting over to the field tank to get some water for the airplane's radiators, when, without a moment's warning a hair-raising chorus of yells broke out on the brooding night air, and scores of savage-looking figures sprang from the shadows of the buildings into the open field.
