The sea-wall ended not far from Donovan's camp of mud and cinders, and having got there, Peter thought he would go on and get a cup of tea.

He crossed the railway-lines, steered through a great American rest camp, crossed the canal, and entered the camp.

It was a cheerless place in winter, and the day was drawing in early with a damp fog.

A great French airship was cruising around overhead and dropping down towards her resting-place in the great hangar near by.

She looked cold and ghostly up aloft, the more so when her engines were shut off, and Peter thought how chilly her crew must be.