CHAPTER VIII. Imperiled in a Trap.
"He can't be shooting at us!" protested Harry vigorously. "We haven't done anything to him. It must be a mistake!"
"Mistake or not, I know the sing of a bullet by this time, and if that wasn't one that just passed us, I'll give up!"
"Watch out!" shouted Jack, peering through a pair of binoculars he had hurriedly seized. "He's aiming at us again!"
Again the peculiar sound as of quickly torn silk cloth greeted the ears of the boys. Jimmie involuntarily ducked his head.
"Perhaps we'd better slow up a bit, Ned, and see what this chap wants," suggested Harry anxiously. "This is a warm reception to France, I must say! Wonder if they always do this to newcomers?"
"Don't know, I'm sure," replied Ned as he slackened speed.
"Let's descend a little and see if he follows. Maybe we can land and he'll explain himself. Try it and see, Ned."
"Pick out a good spot and I'll make a landing," Ned replied.
"Here's a good one," Jimmie announced. "Come down in that field by the barn with the thatched roof. See, by that clump of trees."
"Sure I do! But do you notice how the houses are set close to the barns? How neat the country looks from this position!"
"Don't try to get our attention off the chap behind us like that, Ned!" protested Jimmie. "If he shoots again, I'll get sore!"
Evidently the aviator in the monoplane divined their intention of landing, for he fired no more shots, but contented himself with following closely in their wake, although keeping slightly above them.
In a short time Ned had brought the Grey Eagle gently to earth in a vacant field beside the buildings indicated by Jimmie.
The monoplane was circling slowly about, evidently in an effort to make a good landing. The pilot did not seem to be sure of his ground.
Directly the machine had reached the earth, however, the pilot, accompanied by another person, leaped from the machine and with a drawn revolver in his right hand walked rapidly toward the boys.
"What uniform is that he's wearing?" questioned Jimmie.
"I don't know. Possibly that of the French Aviation Corps."
As the two men neared the Grey Eagle the one in uniform addressed the lads in French. They shook their heads to indicate that they did not understand. At this he addressed his companion.
With the stoop of his slender frame accentuated by the sloping shoulders, his quick, shifty movements of the hands and hurried glances from small, beady black eyes, the other man did not compare favorably with the erect carriage and frank, honest appearance of the man in uniform. Jimmie tapped Ned excitedly on the arm.
"I've got his number!" he whispered eagerly. "That's The Rat or I'm a Dutchman! Look at his chopped-off chin and peaked nose."
"He looks remarkably like the pictures Mr. Bosworth gave us!" declared Ned in a startled tone. "I wonder if it is really he?"
"If it is the same one, we'll soon find out!" declared Jimmie.
Then clearing his throat the lad called out brazenly:
"Well, Old Horse, how's Panama?"
Accustomed as he evidently was to surprises of all sorts, the suddenness of this question startled the man under discussion. He gave a quick start and glanced keenly at the lad. A flush overspread his face.
"The Nymph made a quick voyage, didn't she?" continued Jimmie in an aggravating tone. "I didn't think she could do it!"
Evidently recovering himself with an effort the man did not deign a reply to the lad's remarks. Instead, he directed his conversation to the officer, evidently endeavoring to convince that functionary of something. Apparently he was having a hard time doing so.
At length the officer spoke again to the boys, this time using rather imperfect English. He smiled pleasantly as he said:
"Your pardon, gentlemen, but I shall ask you to excuse my English. I am an officer of the French army and shall have to ask you to show your passports and explain your presence here."
"Your English seems to be all right," answered Ned, speaking slowly and in a low tone. "We are citizens of the United States and are here on a pleasure trip. Our passports will convince you. Will you be pleased to examine them?" he continued, drawing forth a document from his inner pocket. The other boys followed his example.
In a manner that impressed the boys very favorably the officer examined the papers, comparing the descriptions given therein with the lads standing before him. Evidently he was satisfied. Turning to his companion the officer spoke a few words in French, whereat the other turned and made for the monoplane. As he departed the officer said:
"I am sorry to make you trouble, but I have a report that you are German spies. I shall have to place you under guard for a short time while I go for assistance and orders. You will not object?"
"Certainly not!" replied Ned pleasantly. "We will do everything we can to help you to establish our identity. But I wish to ask," he continued, "that you do not let that other fellow get away."
"Why not?" asked the officer in surprise.
"Because we suspect him of having committed a crime in America and it is our purpose to arrest him and have him extradited!"
A look of astonishment came over the officer's face.
"But he gave me the information concerning you!" he protested.
"Ah, ha! Just as I thought!" declared Jimmie with some heat.
"However," continued the officer, "I shall make sure he remains until my return. I shall leave him on guard!"
"Good night!" wailed Jimmie. "The Rat! That's the limit!"
Evidently pleased at his solution of a difficult problem the officer turned to his companion, who came hurrying back from his trip to the monoplane. Addressing him rapidly in French, the officer evidently outlined his plan, for the boys saw a crafty look of satisfaction appear on the repulsive face. He eyed the boys with a disgusting leer.
"I shall be compelled to search you, gentlemen!" announced the officer, stepping forward. "One at a time, please!"
Rapidly he felt the pockets of the lads, but discovered nothing.
"Now, if you please, will you not step into the stable so convenient?" he asked pleasantly as if inviting the boys to lunch. "I shall leave the gentleman on guard armed with my pistol and shall return with my superior officer as quickly as I can. Thank you," he added as the boys stepped toward the stable in obedience to his request.
Adjusting a big bar across the door, their captor called out:
"Await me with patience. I shall not be gone long."
"Here's hoping he falls and breaks his neck!" growled Jimmie, kicking a post. "What a rotten jail this is, anyhow!"
"Wonder what's the idea, anyway?" mused Jack. "This Rat chap seemed to have the officer fellow hypnotized!"
"Oh, it's just the Continental idea of policing a place, I suppose," Ned answered with an attempt at cheerfulness. "He'll return soon with a squad and they'll take us to some place for examination."
"And I suppose The Rat will be on his way by that time!" protested Harry with an injured air. "Or maybe he'll shoot us up a little first. He's got a gun that officer gave him!"
"If he goes doing any stunts like that," Jimmie flashed, "I'll show him two can play at the same game! I've got my automatic!"
"Where did you have it?" asked Ned incredulously.
"In my breast pocket holster," replied Jimmie. "The brainy officer just punched my hip pocket and forgot that I had this slung around my neck. He's a bright chap, that fellow!"
"Wonder what's the chances of getting out of this place," Jack ventured. "This window looks too small for us to climb through."
"Maybe we could get out through the roof!" Ned suggested.
"I don't believe it," Jack replied thoughtfully. "That roof is good, old-fashioned thatch put on to stay and we couldn't burst through unless we had a hole made in it to start with!"
"Let Jimmie pretend he's hungry and burrow out below the walls," laughed Harry. "Set a full meal outside the place and I'll wager Jimmie would be out of this prison inside of five minutes!"
"I'm going to endeavor to get the ear of our pleasant looking jailer!" Jimmie announced suddenly. "I have an idea that his beautiful white soul might by some chance be sullied to the tune of a bribe!"
"Don't do it!" advised Ned. "He's not worth wasting time on!"
"But we've got to get out of this hole some way!" protested Jimmie impatiently. "Do we sit around here all night?"
"It isn't night yet by a long ways!" argued Harry. "Keep your temper, Jimmie; we're coming out all right! We're not down yet!"
"I'd like to know what you call it!" Jimmie answered, somewhat aggrieved because his plan was not accepted. "They've got us fast!"
"Listen!" commanded Ned, holding up a warning hand. "What's that?"
"That," cried Jimmie excitedly, "is Monseer Le Officaire on hees r-r-return. He brings wiz heem zee whole French ar-r-my!"
"Not much!" declared Harry at the window. "It doesn't sound like his engine! If this stack of fodder wasn't in the way I could see!"
"Ask The Rat to remove the stack!" suggested Jimmie. "Let me look!"
Although the boys did their best to catch a glimpse from the window of the approaching motor they found it impossible. However, the noise grew more distinct and presently the droning of the motor sounded nearly overhead. As Harry had said, the reports of the exhaust had a sound unlike those from the monoplane. Evidently a third machine was approaching the place where the boys were held prisoners.
"Let's break out!" protested Jimmie. "This is fierce!"
"Wait a minute!" cautioned Ned. "We'll know soon enough!"
"Anyhow, he's got a hot box!" declared Jimmie. "I can smell smoke and he has landed close by. He's been running pretty fast!"
"You've got a great nose on you, Jimmie!" declared Jack, laughing. "If everything you smell was true, what would we do?"
"I smelled your hot box out on Long Island!" Jimmie returned tartly. "Besides," he added, "my nose is as good as the rest of 'em!"
"Nothing the matter with your nose," maintained Jack, "only it's stubbed and freckled and wrinkles when you lose your temper!"
"Yes," agreed Jimmie with a laugh, "and it's got a perfectly good smeller inside! That's more than some folks can say!"
"Wonder what our friend The Rat is doing just about now?" put in Harry. "We haven't heard from him for quite a few minutes."
"Call to him and ask him for a drink of water!"
"Maybe he wouldn't pay any attention," protested Harry.
"I'll shoot through the door, then! That'll fetch him!"
"Jimmie, you're reckless!" laughed Ned, knowing full well that Jimmie would not consider such a dangerous experiment. "Perhaps we'll find out in a short time just what is going on."
"Yes, I think so!" agreed Jimmie. "I can smell that hot box again! It is getting stronger! I'll bet he's got two hot boxes!"
At this a general laugh went up. The boys found it impossible to resist Jimmie's droll humor in trying moments. Many times had the lad held courage in their hearts by his comments on trivialities.
Directly the boys heard the loud clamor of an engine which evidently belonged to the aircraft that had so recently approached.
"Now, what's he up to?" queried Harry, trying vainly to look from the one small window. "Sounds as if he were starting away!"
"That's what he's doing!" replied Jack. "Cooled his hot box!"
"He did not!" protested Jimmie vigorously. "I smell it yet!"
"That doesn't smell like burning grease!" protested Ned as he sniffed the air. "It smells more like hay or straw burning!"
"Listen!" commanded Harry, raising a hand for attention.
All distinctly heard a crackling noise just outside the barn.
"Boys, this barn's on fire!" shouted Jimmie.