Once more, instead of listening to the whisper of wisdom, he started, on
Lieutenant Lagache's machine; and this time the annoyance was the
gasoline spurting over the loose top of the carburetor. The oil caught
fire, and Guynemer had to give in, having failed three times, and having
been in the air five hours and a half on unsatisfactory airplanes. No
wonder if, with the weather, the machines, and circumstances generally
against him, he felt tired and nervous. He had never done so much with
such poor results. But his will, his will cannot accept what is forced
upon him, and we may be sure that he will not acknowledge himself
beaten.
III. THE LAST FLIGHT
On Tuesday, September 11, the weather was once more uncertain. But
morning fogs by the seaside do not last, and the sun soon began to
shine. Guynemer had had a restless night after his failures, and had
brooded, as irritable people do, over the very things that made him
fretful. Chasing without his new airplane--the enchanting machine which
he had borne in his mind so many months, as a women bears her child, and
which at last he had felt soaring under him--was no pleasure.
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