CHAPTER VIII
UNCLE SAM'S FLYING SQUADRON
"How—-oo—-ooo!"
Ralph gave the long-drawn cry of the timber wolf as he hurried in the direction of Bud's shouts. Hugh speedily joined him, coming from some side quarter, and the pair were soon closing in on the other scout.
They found Bud clinging to a shattered sapling and staring down into a gaping aperture that looked big enough for the excavation of a church cellar. All around were evidences of a most tremendous explosion or upheaval, some trees being actually shattered and others leaning over as though ready to fall.
"Talk to me about your meteors," burst out the wondering Bud as he saw the others coming along, "I hope to goodness one of them never drops down on our roof at home. Just looky here what it did to the poor old earth! That sky traveler's as big as the parsonage, I should think."
Hugh turned to Ralph.
"No doubt about what happened now, is there?" he asked.
"Well, I should say not," came the answer, as Ralph stared down into the hole.
"Must be some new sort of explosive they're experimenting with," added the patrol leader seriously; "and to look at that gap you'd believe it beats dynamite all hollow. Drop a bomb made of that stuff on a fort, and goodby to the whole business."
"W—-what's that?" exclaimed the wondering Bud. "Do you mean to tell me that it wasn't a meteor that made all that racket the last two nights?"
"So far as I know," Hugh told him, "when a meteor drops down, it buries itself in the earth and gradually cools off, for it's been made almost red-hot by passing so swiftly through space. But it doesn't, as a rule, burst and tear a horrible slash in the ground like this."
"Then what made it, Hugh?" asked the other, evidently puzzled.
"A dropped bomb!"
"A bomb, you say? Oh, Hugh, that was why the old aeroplane kept circling all around, wasn't it? They were picking out some place to make a big hole! Whee! No wonder then they came up here to this lonely place to try things out. A farmer'd be apt to kick like a steer if he waked up some fine morning and found holes like this in his garden or field. It's good we didn't happen to be standing here when they dropped the bomb, as you call it."
"I had an idea of something like this last night," Hugh said; "but thought best not to mention it until I could see my way clearer. But now the last doubt has gone, and I know the truth."
"But Hugh, who could it be trying out this awful explosive, and wanting to do it where no curious eyes could watch the operation?"
"I don't know that, Bud, but we can guess. It must be either some company in the market with explosives, or else the Government itself trying to see how the Flying Squadron, as they call their aerial arm of the service, could work in time of actual war."
"Say, if they could drop bombs like that just, where they wanted," remarked Bud admiringly, "I'd pity the enemy, whether Japanese or German or anything else. Just think of a great big bat circling around in the darkness of night, sending down a searchlight, maybe, to pick out the right spot, and then, bang! Good-by to your old fort or battleship! It would be all over before you could wink twice. And let me tell you, fellows, we've got the bully boys in the army to do this same stunt, if anybody on earth can!"
"Thank you for the compliment, my boy!"
A quiet voice said this, and the three scouts looked up hastily to discover that a man clad in a faded suit of khaki was standing close by, watching them with an expression of amusement on his clear-cut face.
There was something about his make-up that instantly convinced Hugh of his connection with the aviation corps of the Government service. This, then, would seem to prove that it was the army engaged in making these secret experiments with the new explosive, perhaps from a war aeroplane that may have been given over into the charge of the Flying Corps for trial.
Hugh immediately advanced toward the officer and gave the regular salute, as every scout is taught to do when he meets one who is above him in rank. To his delight, the other acknowledged the salute immediately.
"We are Boy Scouts belonging to a town some miles away from here,"
Hugh started to explain.
"And what are you doing here?" inquired the officer pleasantly.
"We came up to watch one of my chums experiment with a device he believes he has discovered," replied Hugh. "For the last two nights we have been puzzled to understand what that terrible roar and flash meant. At first, we thought a meteor had fallen; but when it came again last night and we saw the aeroplane swinging around up there in the sky, I began to believe there was some connection between them. And now that we've found this hole in the ground, I know it shows where your bomb struck, Lieutenant."
"Yes, that is what happened," remarked the officer. "I came here this morning to take notes, so that I could make a full report of our practice. We have not thought it necessary to make use of our searchlight so far when dropping a bomb; but now that we know others besides ourselves are up here, we must be more careful. Perhaps I would hesitate to say all this to most people whom I happened to meet by accident, but I know what Boy Scouts are and how devoted they have always proved to patriotic motives. I'm positively certain that nothing could tempt one of you lads to betray any confidence I placed in you."
"Thank you, sir," said Hugh, flushing with keen pleasure at hearing such words of praise from an army officer. "And perhaps you may not know that there are others up here who seem to be deeply interested in all that you are doing."
"What is that, my boy?" exclaimed the other, showing sudden interest.
"Why, by chance my friend here, Ralph Kenyon, who has trapped all through this section in years gone by, saw two men talking and acting in a strange way. They've been spying on us, too, while we've occupied the old shack close by. They even crept in while we were off yesterday, to steal some plans of an aeroplane improvement which this other scout, Bud Morgan, had carelessly left there."
"Two men, you say," the officer commented, knitting his brows with sudden suspicion and uneasiness. "Could you tell whether they seemed to look like natives or foreigners, son and he wheeled so as to face Ralph as he asked this.
"I had an idea that one looked like a Japanese and the other a
German," the boy answered promptly.
At this, the army man rubbed his chin and seemed to consider.
"I've taken you into my confidence so far already, boys," he observed presently, "that I suppose I might as well go right along and tell you everything. We are up here, representing the Flying Squadron of the army, to experiment with a new war aeroplane much more powerful than anything before devised; also to ascertain whether there is any truth in the wild claims put forth by the inventor of the latest explosive, that his discovery must make war so horrible that nations would be compelled to keep the peace after this. And, judging from what that one small bomb did here, I fancy he was not mistaken in his estimate. We could destroy the largest battleship afloat as easy as to snap our fingers. Of course there are secret agents of numerous Great Powers constantly floating around in Washington, trying to learn what Uncle Sam has up his sleeve in the way of new inventions calculated to destroy the enemy in time of war. And we have feared all along that one or more of these spies may have gotten on our track. I'm very much gratified with what you have told me, for now we know what to expect, and can avoid taking any unnecessary risk."
"Would these foreign spies dare attempt to ruin your war aeroplane, or try to blow you all up with some of your own explosive?" asked Ralph.
"I wouldn't put it past them," replied the other. "They are playing a desperate game, you understand, and have their orders from the home Governments to keep us from forging ahead too fast. But I haven't introduced myself as yet. I am Lieutenant Fosdick, and I have had some little experience in army aviation."
"I wonder if you can be the same Lieutenant Fosdick I've heard so much about from our Scout Master, a retired army officer named Lieutenant Denmead?" Hugh ventured to say eagerly.
"Well, this is a pleasure to be sure!" remarked the other smilingly. "To be sure I know Denmead. I saw a great deal of him several years ago. And so he is spending his spare time in teaching the young idea how to shoot, but with the arms of peace rather than those of bloody war? He was always crazy over boys, and must be a cracking good Scout Master, because he knows so much of Western life among the Indians. He was with Miles in the Sioux War long ago, as you may know. But what was this you said about one of your mates inventing something in connection with the management of aeroplanes? That would seem to be right in my line, and if he has no serious objections, I'd like to hear about it."
At that, Bud turned fiery red, but with pleasure more than embarrassment. It was a crowning triumph in his career to find himself an object of interest in the eyes of so famous an aviator as Lieutenant Fosdick, of whom he remembered reading quite frequently as the most fearless air pilot in the Flying Squadron of Uncle Sam.
Encouraged by the winning smile on the bronzed face of the army officer, Bud only too gladly started to explain what his hopes were.
"I'd like to see this wonderful little model of yours in action, son," the experienced air pilot remarked afterwards. "Suppose all of you come over to our headquarters, which happen to be not more than half a mile away from here. We have a fine open spot where we can ascend and alight with ease, day or night. You will be welcome, I assure you. We have a dozen men there besides those connected with the war aviation corps, simply to guard against any spies giving us trouble. If you can go now, I'd be pleased to wait for you, so as to pass you through the lines."
"How long will it take you to get your little machine dismantled, so we can handle it, Bud?" asked Hugh.
"Oh! I can do it in a jiffy, because, you see, it's fixed for taking apart," the inventor of the party hastened to declare.
So Lieutenant Fosdick accompanied them to the shack. While Bud busied himself with his model, Ralph and Hugh chatted with the army officer. He asked more questions concerning Bud and the idea he had been trying out.
"It would seem as though your friend might have a touch of genius about him somewhere," the aviator said with a smile, "though I'm afraid that he's too late with that wonderful stability device, because it is very similar to one the Wright Brothers got out some time ago. That's the way it often happens, and many a man has studied some clever thing out only to find that he has been anticipated by some earlier inventor. But say nothing about this for the present. Your friend surely deserves to have a little glory out of the game before the blow falls. And I shall be curious to see how he manages with this model of his, for it looks good to me."
Evidently Bud had found favor with the army man. Even though doomed to disappointment with regard to his wonderful invention, the boy might derive satisfaction in knowing that his work had not been entirely in vain.
When half an hour had passed, Bud declared everything in readiness for the change of base; and soon the boys were accompanying the skilled aviator through the woods headed for the camp of the Flying Squadron.