CHAPTER X. Boy Scouts for Targets.
"Pooh!" scorned Jimmie. "I suppose you think the old gentleman is leader of the Patrol and wrote this note to ask us to come again!"
"Maybe he's asking us to return his lost——. What was it he was looking for and couldn't find?" asked Ned, with twinkling eyes.
"He said he wanted his 'Vosh'!" was Jimmie's brazen reply, for he had now quite recovered from his embarrassment. "I've got a French word that I won't forget in a hurry! Oh, I'm learning!"
"Let's examine that message a little more closely," requested Ned, from his position on the ground beside the machine. "It surely looks like Boy Scout work, but was evidently prepared in a hurry."
"It looks like a leaf from a memorandum book!"
"I believe that's what it is! Where did you find it, Jimmie?"
"Right here, under the spark lever. It was jammed beneath the click. I was just going to throw it away when I saw the marks on it!"
"Look at the signature!" spoke up Harry, peering over Ned's shoulder. "That's English, anyway! Can you read it, Ned?"
"Yes, it says 'Jean Voisin,' just as plain as can be!"
"That isn't English!" put in Jack. "That's French!"
"What Patrol does he belong to?" asked Jimmie. "Look for his mark. If he's a friend of ours he'll put that in, too."
"Here's a picture of a Hawk's head. Maybe that's his Patrol. And then here are some other marks that indicate his rank, no doubt!"
"He makes a pretty good picture of 'Signs in Stones!'" was Jack's comment. "Three stones piled one on top of another. That's a neat picture. Why," with a startled glance around, "that's 'Danger!'"
"Correct! Go to the head of the class!" decided Jimmie.
"I vote we get going somewhere!" put in Harry, moving around the end of the planes. "Hello!" he added, stumbling over an object on the ground. "Guess my eyesight is poor! I didn't see those stones!"
"Take another look!" advised Jimmie. "Weren't they piled on top of each other? I thought I saw the pile just as you kicked it!"
"Guess they were," admitted Harry. "Who did that, I wonder?"
"Maybe The Hawk did it," Jimmie suggested from his perch in the aeroplane. "It would be just like him to add that to the note."
"Hello!" cried Ned, as he examined the ground near Harry's position. "There's another little pile of three stones!"
"I see them!" shouted Harry, pointing out their position. "And here's another one lying beside the pile. That means 'Danger in this direction,' according to my understanding. What do you think it means?"
"Wait a minute!" cried Jimmie. "Ned, in what direction is Paris from our present location?"
"Roughly speaking, southeast," answered Ned.
"Then I'll bet that's a warning for us not to go to Paris!" Jimmie exultantly went on. "The compass shows that the two piles of stones lie almost directly southeast from the Grey Eagle! That's it!"
"I wonder if The Rat knows Boy Scout signs and put those things there to head us off from following him! It is a sure thing that he was headed for Paris when he left here!" decided Jack.
"Guess you're right, Jack," Ned agreed. "But why should he sign himself 'Jean Voisin'? I can't understand that!"
"What does 'Voisin' mean, Jimmie?" asked Jack, laughing.
"Search me!" replied the lad. "I'm not up on French!"
"I think it means 'Neighbor'," Ned answered thoughtfully. "Wasn't that the meaning given in the article we were reading about airships where it told that 'Taube', the German name, means 'Pigeon' and that 'Voisin' means 'Neighbor?' I believe that's it!"
"Rather sarcastic, I should say!" ventured Harry. "It wasn't a very neighborly act to shut us up in that barn and then burn it down, while he flew away! He added insult to injury when he left this note! How did he expect us to find the note if we were burned in the barn?"
"That was rather a nervy piece of business!" scornfully decided Jimmie. "I vote we use the brass knuckles on him!"
"It's too bad you didn't live a hundred years or so ago, Jimmie!" Ned laughed. "If we didn't know you so well, we'd be thinking all the time that you were a pirate and itching for a fight!"
"I'm not much of a scrapper," Jimmie stated, "but if we ever meet, you will have a chance to practice 'First Aid' on The Rat!"
Laughingly the boys received this statement, for they all knew well Jimmie's tendency to exaggerate, yet they all felt that he had ample grounds for feeling aggrieved at the one called "The Rat."
It was decided that their recent captor and his companion had departed for Paris and that, as nothing could be gained by returning to Havre at this time, their best course would be to go to Paris also.
No time was lost in preparing for flight. Waving a farewell to the friendly old man who had saved their lives, the boys seated themselves in the Grey Eagle and were soon under way.
Dusk was falling as they rose above the row of trees at the roadside, and as Jimmie turned on the switch controlling the lights illuminating the instruments under the pilot's cowl, he asked:
"Shall we put on the searchlight, Ned?"
"No, I don't think we'd better have that going," Ned decided. "Some of the country people hereabouts might become alarmed and send word to the War Department that a German invasion is taking place!"
"Good idea!" assented Jimmie. "But do you know how to steer?"
"Yes. Southeasterly is the general course. I'll make it a little southeast by east about a quarter south, for we flew some distance to the southward of Havre in crossing the river before we were overhauled."
"We ought to see the lights of Paris when we get up higher, anyway," Jimmie suggested. "How big a place is Paris? How far is it?"
"It is a little bigger than Peapack, N. J.," replied Jack, "and is just about a hundred miles from Havre, unless they have moved it since the last maps were made. I don't think they've moved it, though!"
"Would they move it if the Germans took it?" asked Jimmie, with a grin at his tormentor. "I don't suppose the river is near enough the ocean to be 'tied'!" he added. "That last is a pun!"
"Well," returned Jack, "I understand they would move all but the stores where writing paper and envelopes are sold!"
"Oh, I know that one!" shouted Jimmie. "They're 'stationery'!"
"I see a light ahead!" cried Harry. "What is it?"
Out of the darkness ahead the boys descried a train with lights carefully guarded. In a short time the Grey Eagle was sweeping near the flying monster as it wound its way across the country.
"Chase 'em a little way, Ned!" suggested Jimmie.
Ned nodded his head in response, and veered the planes a trifle.
Soon the people on the train became aware of the presence of their flying visitor. Heads were thrust out, but quickly withdrawn.
"Goodness!" cried Jimmie, aghast. "Just look at that, will you! Why," the lad continued in a horrified tone, "that whole train seems to be filled with injured persons. Every one is bandaged up!"
"Probably a train with wounded coming from the battle front," suggested Ned, giving a touch to the levers. "Let's get out of here!"
"I should say 'Yes'!" replied Jimmie, horrified at the sight of so many wounded men. "Why, they had a whole trainload of injured!"
"That's the way they injure them nowadays—by the trainload!" declared Jack. "They tell me those guns the Germans have are awful!"
"I guess they can't be much worse than the machine guns the French use!" put in Harry. "Six hundred shots a minute, I understand to be the capacity of one of the modern machine guns. That's going some!"
"And if the United States got into war with some nation, we'd probably have to see things just like this, with Americans instead of Frenchmen as the wounded!" shuddered Jimmie. "That is awful!"
"Well, what can you expect when a whole nation gets to shooting up another nation? They try to kill as many as they can!" said Ned.
"But I can't comprehend why they do it!" declared Jimmie emphatically. "It doesn't seem right! I think it is cruel!"
"Imagine a nation represented by one man," suggested Harry. "Take your own case. Didn't you go out and declare war on Pete and his gang on Long Island? And see what chance The Rat has if you ever get him!"
"Well, that wasn't so very different, come to think of it," admitted Jimmie. "But I had a perfectly good reason!"
"That's what these nations think!" declared Harry. "They don't stop to think of the individual soldiers any more than you stopped to think of your lips and fists. The ones to suffer are the fellows like that trainload of wounded boys bound for Paris!"
"You win the argument!" admitted Jimmie. "But that makes me think——. If they're bound for Paris, why not follow their trail, and we'll get there, too. That's Boy Scout trailing for you!"
"All right, we'll follow," replied Ned, turning on power. "Only we're not going to poke along like that train!"
At Ned's touch the Grey Eagle responded with an increase of speed that soon left the train far behind. Jimmie sighed as it disappeared from view. Jack noticed the sigh and comfortingly said:
"You should worry about that stuff, Jimmie. Forget it!"
"I'm worrying about what would happen to the boys of the U. S. A. if we get into a war with some other country! Maybe they couldn't lick us, but before it stopped a good many would be hurt!"
"What's that thing over there to the northward?" asked Harry, pointing in the direction indicated.
"Where?" asked Ned. "I can't see anything!"
"It looks like a tall pole or something standing straight up!"
"I see it!" cried Jack, looking through a pair of binoculars. "It looks like the pictures of the Eiffel Tower! That's what it is!"
"Let's see," requested Jimmie, reaching for the glasses.
"Yes, sir, that's what it is, I believe!" he added. "Look, Ned!"
Ned surrendered the levers to Jimmie and gazed at the object.
"I believe you're right, Jimmie!" he agreed. "We're near Paris!"
"Then we'd better decide where we want to stop," suggested Jimmie. "Have you any idea as to localities?"
"Not in the slightest," replied Ned. "I think we'd better get in touch with the War Office as quickly as possible to head off The Rat!"
"I can see the houses below us!" spoke up Harry.
"Nobody home but the clock, and that's on a strike!" put in Jimmie. "Why don't they have a few lights going down there? The town's as dark as a miser's pocket! Have they all gone visiting?"
"Probably it is an order on account of the war!" explained Jack. "They're afraid of German aeroplanes flying over and dropping bombs."
"Well, we won't drop any bombs!" asserted Jimmie.
"Yes, but they don't know it!" argued Jack. "Let's put on the searchlight and try to find a good landing place. What do you say?"
It was agreed that this would be the proper thing to do, and the boy turned the switch. He directed the shaft of light downward.
Housetops, trees, streets, were revealed in the glare from the powerful flame. By its light the boys saw that they were only a short distance above the earth. No place for landing appeared.
"I see the river," announced Jimmie. "Don't get us wet!"
"Guess we'll have to swing around and land in one of these wide streets, Ned!" suggested Harry. "I can't make out any other vacant spot big enough for a safe landing. Is that a good idea?"
"I guess it's as good as any," replied Ned. "I'll swing around and try that broad street we just crossed!"
"Hope there's somebody home when we land!" Jimmie put in.
At that moment the boys saw below them a flash of light. A sharp report assailed their ears, and again they heard the peculiar tearing, whistling sound of a bullet in its flight through the air.