"They've gone away across London," he said.  "I guess they've got a
bigger camp there.  Of a night, all over there, Hampstead way, the sky
is alive with their lights.  It's like a great city, and in the glare
you can just see them moving.  By daylight you can't.  But nearer--I
haven't seen them--" (he counted on his fingers) "five days.  Then I
saw a couple across Hammersmith way carrying something big.  And the
night before last"--he stopped and spoke impressively--"it was just a
matter of lights, but it was something up in the air.  I believe
they've built a flying-machine, and are learning to fly."

I stopped, on hands and knees, for we had come to the bushes.

"Fly!"

"Yes," he said, "fly."

I went on into a little bower, and sat down.