CHAPTER IX. A Mysterious Warning.
Ned gave a gasp of astonishment at the statement.
Rushing toward the window he attempted again to secure a view of their surroundings. Driven before a gust of wind a puff of smoke entered, causing the boy to step back choking.
"Can you crawl through that window, Jimmie?" asked Ned.
"Guess it's too small!" returned Jimmie, eyeing the window speculatively. "I'll try it, but I don't believe I can make it!"
Accordingly the lad stripped off his jacket, handed his automatic and holster to Jack and prepared to make the attempt.
"Look out for The Rat, Jimmie!" cautioned Harry anxiously.
"Yes, look out for him!" put in Jack. "It would be just like him to stand to one side and pot you as you drop from the window!"
"I'll keep an eye out for him!" Jimmie answered. "Just as soon as I get out of here I'm going to devote a few minutes to using the brass knuckles on that fellow! He surely needs something!"
Ned and Harry stood by to give Jimmie any possible assistance in his endeavor to leave the building. A cloud of smoke drifted past the window. The crackling of flames grew louder momentarily.
"That's some smoke!" declared Jimmie, coughing as he approached the narrow opening. "I'll bet the fellow that built this shack never intended to have it burn! Wish he'd made the window a bit bigger!"
"Are you ready, Jimmie?" asked Ned. Then as the lad nodded his reply, continued, "Scoot around in front and let down the bar from the door just as quickly as you can. That thatch won't last long!"
"Sure, Jimmie," put in Jack, "don't stop to put the knuckles on with The Rat until you let us out of here. We'll referee the bout!"
Jimmie did not reply to this suggestion, but shut his jaws with an expression familiar to the boys. They knew that the lad would do his best to rescue them from their dangerous situation.
Jimmie's first attempt to crawl through the window met with unquestionable defeat. Without a doubt the opening was too narrow to permit him to pass with any degree of ease.
Supported from the floor by his two chums, Jimmie gave a backward glance and shook his head doubtfully, then turned again to the task in hand. It would be a tight squeeze, but he was determined.
Thrusting up one arm he put that through the window first, then laying his head on his shoulder he attempted to push that through the opening. Only with the greatest difficulty did the lad manage to get his head through. Wriggle as he might, he found it impossible to follow with his chest. Evidently the passage could not be negotiated.
"Come back, Jimmie," called Ned in fear. "We don't want you to get stuck in that place if the old trap is going to burn down!"
"Come on back, Jimmie; we'll find some other way!" cried Jack.
By this time the smoke swirling around the stack of fodder had filled Jimmie's eyes. With every breath he drew in great draughts of smoke-laden air until he was nearly choking. Reluctantly he admitted defeat and endeavored to return. That seemed far from easy.
Just as he was about to draw his head through the opening a gust of wind fanning the growing fire dashed a burst of flame toward the lad. Caught fast in the vise-like embrace of the frame the boy could not escape this scorching onslaught. Quickly he jerked himself back, badly lacerating one ear. He was not in time, however, to escape the loss of his eyebrows and a part of his red hair.
"Don't try that again, Jimmie," advised Harry. "It won't do!"
"Much obliged, I'm sure!" coughed Jimmie. "You're right!"
"How about the door, fellows?" suggested Ned. "Do you suppose we could batter it down? It may not be as solid as it looks!"
"Never can tell till you try!" hopefully spoke up Jack. "What shall we use as a battering ram? They failed to leave us anything."
"Pull loose some floor boards," Jimmie advised, wiping the blood from his injured ear. "Get a good heavy plank!"
"Guess not this trip!" said Harry, rejecting the suggestion. "This floor is made of hard packed dirt and there are no boards!"
"If it was lighter in here, we could see better!" Ned cried. "Have any of you got an electric searchlight with you?"
A quick canvass of the group showed that none of the boys had the desired article. All had been left on the Grey Eagle.
"Pull out that post there!" advised Jack, handing the pistol and jacket back to Jimmie. "All of us get hold of it."
"I'm going to turn in a 'four-eleven'!" announced Jimmie, adjusting the strap of his holster over his head and drawing his automatic from its place. "Maybe someone will hear it and unbar the door!"
"Shoot straight up, Jimmie!" cautioned Ned.
"All right, Boss!" replied the lad, pointing the weapon toward the thatch and pressing the trigger. "Look at that fire up there!" he added, directing the attention of his chums toward the roof.
"The thatch is burning through!" gasped Harry excitedly.
"It won't be long before the roof falls!" added Jack.
Jimmie pressed the trigger again and again in the hope that the sound of his shots would reach friendly ears and procure their release.
Fire now began dropping from several places in the thatch, while the barn filled with smoke. The crackling of the flames grew louder as the fire spread. All the boys were coughing and choking from the smoke they were compelled to inhale. They grouped near the door.
"Here comes the fireman!" yelled Jimmie in delight, as the others were preparing again to attempt an onslaught on the post that had resisted their previous efforts. "Go, slow, lads! One at a time!"
His shout had been called forth by a rattle at the barred door. Springing quickly toward the entrance he called out:
"Hurry up, there! Pull that bar off the door! We're choking!"
A few words unintelligible to Jimmie came in reply.
Directly the bar was removed and the door opened, letting in a great rush of fresh air. As if urged to greater effort in its mad attempt to destroy the boys, the fire blazed up with redoubled fury. The entire roof burst out in flame, no doubt augmented by the sudden rush of air through the now wide opened doorway. The barn was doomed.
Bursting through the entrance, the boys nearly ran over an old man trembling with excitement. His peculiar costume excited their curiosity at once. Dressed in a loose fitting jacket that fell outside baggy trousers, his bare feet thrust into wooden shoes, and with his long white hair falling down over his shoulders, he presented a sight the boys long remembered. He was talking excitedly in French.
"Well, Rip Van Winkle," offered Jimmie, after his first full breath of pure air, "we're much obliged to you, I'm sure. Come away from there, now," he added, "the roof will fall presently!"
But in spite of Jimmie's urging the old man tried to enter the stable again, all the time mumbling to himself.
"What is he saying?" inquired Ned, detaining the old man.
"Listen!" commanded Jimmie. Then addressing their rescuer:
"What did you say? What do you want in there?" he shouted.
"Jimmie, Jimmie!" cautioned Ned. "Maybe he isn't deaf!"
"Sure enough!" agreed Jimmie, in a self-condemnatory tone, "I forgot, and tried to shout at him because he doesn't understand English!"
"What is he saying?" again asked Ned, drawing nearer.
"La vasche, la vasche!" repeated their friend.
"Oh, it's the boss you want?" triumphantly responded Jimmie. Then, indicating Ned, he said: "This is our boss; ask him!"
But the old man shook his head and tried again to enter the barn.
"I'll bet I know what he wants!" cried Jack. "He thinks his cow is in the barn, and he's looking for it! Here, Mister, is this it?" Jack emitted a long and very dignified "Moo-oo-oo!"
A smile overspread the aged features as the man nodded vigorously.
Ned glanced at Jimmie with a twinkle in his eye. Catching Ned's glance, the lad turned away with a very red face and mumbled:
"She ain't here! She went down to the delicatessen about half an hour ago to get a pint of milk. You needn't wait!"
"That's a good one, Jimmie!" Ned laughed. "He didn't want me!"
"That's a horse on me, all right!" admitted Jimmie sheepishly.
Taking the old gentleman by the arm, Ned led him carefully away from the burning building. He pointed back and shook his head as if to indicate that nothing remained inside the building. In a short time the roof fell with a crash. Silently weeping, the old man sat watching the destruction of his stack of fodder and barn.
"Well, where is The Rat?" asked Jimmie, recalling the boys to the present. "If I could get hold of him, I'd warm his jacket!"
"Don't know, I'm sure!" replied Ned. "Maybe he went away in the other airship that arrived just as the fire started!"
Jimmie gave a gasp. Turning to Ned in astonishment, he said:
"Ned, you don't suppose that the officer returned and then they burned the place and left us there to die! I don't believe it!"
"Say," put in Jack, "if it wasn't so hard to believe, that would be the most reasonable solution of the whole matter!"
"Wonder what they did to the Grey Eagle before they left!" suggested Harry. "Suppose we take a stroll over there and look about."
"I can see the machine there in the field where we left it," spoke up Jimmie. "Suppose we ask the old party here for some supper!"
"Hungry again, Jimmie?" laughed Ned.
"Sure I am, and so are you, if you'd admit it!" returned the boy. "Let's get something to eat and ask the old fellow if he noticed which way the airship went as it left here. He must have seen it!"
"All right, go ahead and ask him!" grinned Ned.
"Aw, shucks!" sputtered Jimmie. "You know I can't talk French!"
"Go on, Jimmie, say 'Polly Voo' to him, anyway!" laughed Jack.
"Polly Voo, yourself, if you want to!" answered Jimmie, somewhat sulkily. "I've made a fool of myself once, and that's enough! Besides," he added, "I want to wash this blood and dirt off my ear!"
"That's right, Jimmie, we nearly forgot you!" said Ned. "We ought to be scolded for neglecting you after your brave effort!"
Approaching the old man, who still bemoaned the loss of his property, Ned indicated by signs that they wanted water to bathe the injured boy's bleeding ear. Comprehending at once, the man fetched a basin of water and set it down before them.
"Now, when it comes to the supper, I'll ask him for it myself!" declared Jimmie. "You promised while we were in New York I might do that!"
"Sure as you live!" agreed Jack. "I remember that!"
Filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of his venture in sign language, Jimmie tapped the man's shoulder and then pointed to his own mouth. Describing a circle with his hands, he indicated a plate heaped high, and then patted his stomach. His efforts were effective.
Instantly comprehending, the man smiled and disappeared into his cottage, to return at once with a bowl of stew and loaf of black bread.
Under the attack of four hungry boys the bread and soup were soon dispatched, and Ned pressed upon their host a piece of money.
"Let's be on our way now," suggested Harry. "I don't believe we need to wait for the officer's return. He and The Rat are probably miles away by this time. Maybe they're in Paris!"
"We'd better head for Paris, too!" advised Jimmie.
"Let's overhaul the Grey Eagle first, and see if it's all there!"
"Come on, fellows, we've paid the landlord, and I'm ready!"
Jimmie raced the short distance to the airship. Followed by his chums, the lad examined closely every part of the machine.
"Hello, what's this?" he cried in a moment. "It looks as if The Rat and the officer left us a farewell note!"
"Not The Rat!" urged Harry. "That's a Boy Scout message!"