CHAPTER XX. Lost Above the Lines.
Impatiently awaiting the return of their comrade, the four boys sat in the Grey Eagle. Jimmie insisted on keeping the motor running, in order that it would be warm and ready for instant flight upon Ned's return with the receipt for the message.
"It seems to take an awful long time!" fumed Jack, peering into the growth of bushes nearest the Grey Eagle. "He can't be lost!"
"Lost nothing!" exclaimed Jimmie scornfully. "You can't lose Ned Nestor! He's probably having an argument with the guys over there, who will do everything they can to delay him so their friend can win!"
"That wasn't exactly a fair thing to do, anyhow!" protested Francois. "I think it was arranged for a huge joke!"
"Joke?" queried Jimmie, bristling. "Joke? If those things are jokes, I haven't any sense of humor. That's no joke!"
"It's a mighty low sort of trick, I say!" spoke up Harry.
"That's what it is," chimed in Jimmie. "And, say, Francois," he went on, "we like you, and you're a good friend of ours, but please don't try to smooth over this Frenchman's actions. It won't go!"
"All right," replied the lad. "I don't approve of it any more than you do, but I wanted to make peace, that's all."
"Well, you just remain neutral, and it'll be all right!"
A general laugh went up at this declaration. They knew that Jimmie loved neutrality and peace, even if he had to fight to get them.
Directly the clamor of the monoplane's motors ceased. The noise had been growing louder and more distinct, but now died away entirely. Jimmie stood up in his place and peered anxiously about.
"What's going on?" he questioned. "Is he stopping?"
"I don't think so," ventured Francois. "He's just shutting off power, and will volplane down to a point where he picks up the receipt. Then he will swing upward again under power and be away!"
The boy's conjecture was, indeed, correct. The pilot of the monoplane glided swiftly down to a level barely clear of the earth. Swooping along, he caught the immense hoop on which the message had been fixed, wrenched it from its standard, and again started upward.
"There he goes!" shouted Jimmie disgustedly, as the roar of the exhaust from the French machine reached their ears. "Engine working like an Ingersoll, everything all right, clear track, nothing to do till tomorrow! Great Frozen Hot Boxes; this is something fierce!"
"Keep your head, Jimmie," advised Jack consolingly. "We've lost this race, but there may be others. Ned will return directly."
"Well, what's keeping him?" demanded Jimmie, controlling himself with an effort. "I wonder if they are reading the message before replying."
"They're a bunch of pikers!" declared Harry.
Of course, we know that Harry's application of the term to the ones in charge of the receipt was in this case unwarranted. Ned's delay could not in any way be charged to their actions at this time.
"I'm going to run along the path a little ways and see what's keeping Ned!" declared Jimmie at length. "I know something's wrong!"
"Better stay here, Jimmie," advised Harry. "Ned wouldn't like it if you wander away from the machine even a little way."
"That's right, Jimmie," added Jack. "Ned might return here by another route than that which he followed, and you'd miss him!"
"Besides," continued Francois, "I think it is going to rain. I felt a big drop just now on my face, and it seems to be getting colder."
Glancing about, the boys agreed that a change in the weather was imminent. Their previous experiences enabled them to forecast changes with a fair degree of accuracy. Just now they could not decide what might be in store. Heavy clouds were forming on the horizon, but the sun was still shining on the Grey Eagle and its crew.
Speculating and debating on the cause of Ned's delay, the boys passed away several minutes. Presently the suspense became unendurable to Jimmie, who provided himself with several clips of cartridges for his automatic and, declaring his intention of finding Ned, set out.
"Go careful with that smoke wagon!" called Jack.
"Guess I know how to run one of these things!" declared Jimmie. "If it's necessary, I'm going to clean house on that bunch back there! They haven't any right to hold Ned so long as this! I'm sore!"
Walking rapidly, the boy soon entered the undergrowth that hid him from sight of those in the Grey Eagle. Every instinct alert, the lad slipped silently along in the general direction taken by his comrade some time previously. He was studying the ground carefully.
At one point he stopped abruptly, examined the turf at his feet, then glanced about without raising his head. He was standing in the very spot where Ned had been halted. Following the footprints with his eyes, Jimmie detected the opening, and on further examination noticed that the aperture had been made by hands wielding tools.
"Great Frozen Hot Boxes!" gasped the boy. "There's a cave, as sure as guns are iron! Some of those fairies or pygmies or hobgoblins have gone and geezled Ned! Here's their window!"
Stepping lightly over the surface, Jimmie took great pains to leave the tracks of Ned and his captor undisturbed. Arriving at the entrance behind the clump of bushes, the boy stooped, and for some time examined carefully every mark. At length he straightened and set off in the direction of the Grey Eagle, evidently following another trail.
Directly he glanced ahead and saw, to his amazement, that his chums were in trouble. He slipped cautiously out of sight behind a friendly shrub, and crept close to the machine and its occupants.
Jack, Harry and Francois had viewed with some misgivings the departure of Jimmie upon his quest, which they considered useless.
Determined to remain at the spot where Ned had left them until his return, they settled themselves and began a conversation on many topics. The scenery attracted their attention most, and they were admiring a range of hills to the eastward when they heard a command:
"Surrender! You will be shot!"
Surprised at the gruff voice, which they did not recognize, the boys turned instantly, to find themselves covered by two rifles held in the determined grasp of men in uniform. This, at least, was no joke!
"What do you want?" stormed Jack indignantly. "Put down those guns! Don't you know they might go off and hurt somebody?"
"This one has already accounted for several of your countrymen!" replied one of the men with a laugh. "It is ready to do a like service for you if you do not surrender at once! Come, time is short!"
"What does a fellow have to do when he surrenders?" asked Jack. "We strive to please, but are not quite posted as to your customs!"
"Alight from that machine instantly!" commanded the other.
"Why?" questioned Jack argumentatively.
"Because I have told you! I shall shoot if you do not!"
"That's a mighty good argument, Old Scout," agreed Jack, "but we don't like your methods. You are a little too rough in your play!"
"Play!" stormed the other, fast losing patience. "This is not play, as you shall soon learn. Come, I shall not argue!"
"Well, the nerve of some people's children!" exclaimed Harry. "Say, Buddy," he added, "we're from the United States, and we don't see how you can boss us around like that. We haven't harmed you!"
"United States!" scorned the soldier. "So said the other. All Germans come from the United States! No," he decided, shaking his head, "you must invent some other story. That is not good!"
"Do you mean to call us Germans?" Harry cried, rising. "Why, you better look out or I'll get sore! We're not Germans; we're Yankees!"
"Have your own way about it, but come out of that machine instantly!" replied the soldier, dropping his air of banter and raising his rifle.
Just as the boys were preparing to obey this command, they were startled to hear Jimmie's voice crying:
"Stay where you are, boys! And you Landsturm fellows, drop your guns and put up your hands! Do it quick, or something will drop!"
Chagrined at the thought of being captured by a single boy, the soldiers attempted a show of resistance. Their opinions underwent a swift change as Jimmie, seeing their intentions, fired into the ground at their feet. He was advancing, keeping the soldiers well covered.
"Take their rifles, boys," Jimmie directed. "Lay 'em away!"
Raging at this sudden reversal of affairs, the soldiers could do nothing else than meekly permit their arms to be removed.
"Now, then," went on Jimmie, "where did you put our comrade?"
"He went through the trenches with our superior," answered one.
"Where is he now?" asked Jimmie, keeping his automatic ready.
Characteristic shrugs of the shoulders was the only reply.
At that instant the boys heard a terrific screaming in the air, followed by the boom of a distant cannon. Instantly they felt the shock of a bursting shell of large proportions.
"Look, look!" cried Francois, using the French language. "It is one of those dreadful shells. Look at the awful black smoke!"
For the moment all eyes were turned in the direction indicated. It was, indeed, as Francois had said. The dreaded smoke was there.
Again they heard the scream of a shell, and this time as it exploded the tremor of the earth was greater, although the detonation was not so loud as in the case of the former shell.
"That hit into something!" declared Jimmie excitedly.
"Where are they coming from?" asked Harry. "Who's shooting?"
"Those are the dreaded German shells!" replied Francois.
For a few moments the boys stood, expecting to hear other shells. None came, however, and they were about to give their attention to the soldiers when Jimmie espied Ned's figure running toward them.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" he exclaimed, rushing toward his chum. "Where did you come from, Scout? Aren't you lost?"
Ned shuddered and hid his face. He was horrified at his recent experience. In a few words he told the details.
"There's an aeroplane rising from the eastward!" cried Harry.
"I'll bet it's a Taube!" declared Jimmie. "It's bird-shaped!"
Upon seeing the flier the soldiers became panic stricken. They declared that all were in danger from bombs and darts, and begged the boys to take refuge in the trenches, where only lay safety.
"Let's wheel the Grey Eagle under those trees," suggested Ned, "and get into the trenches with them. It is safer than out here!"
No time was lost in carrying out this suggestion, and friendship having been established by Ned's safe return, all were soon at ease in the somewhat crowded quarters. Their anxiety was not lessened, however, for the German flier proceeded to pass above their position, dropping an occasional bomb. This continued until darkness, accompanied by a fog and rain, compelled him to retire to the shelter of his own lines.
Jimmie's hunger, added to the discomfort of the trench, compelled the boys to consider a change. Finding repairs to the damaged trench possible, a detachment of soldiers had appeared. They were joined by the two with whom the lads had become so well acquainted. "Let's fly back to the aviation camp and get supper!" Jimmie proposed. "I have got another of those bad colds!"
In a short time the boys had mounted the Grey Eagle and were away from the scene. Below and all about them lay the fog. Sounds came faintly up to their ears. Suddenly a piercing scream indicated the passage of another of the giant shells. A roar told that it had landed and exploded. Ned steered away in another direction. Below them a great flash of light accompanied a terrific roar. A cannon had been fired.
"Where are we, Ned?" quavered Jimmie. "Can you tell?"
"We're right over a battery!" replied Ned, shifting the levers. "They seem to be firing and fired at! We're between two fires!"
"We're lost, that's what we are," cried Jimmie, "and no compass!"