CHAPTER VI
CATCHING THB SPY
"Well, well, Orry! How do you feel after your stunts of yesterday?"
This from Sergeant Blaine as he jumped from his bunk in the aerodrome dormitory the following morning just as the dawn was breaking.
Erwin, still drowsing, opened one eye. The next instant, remembering what the day probably hold in store for him, he threw off the covers and leapt from his bunk. At the same time, in order impress Blaine with his general fitness, he hit the big Sergeant a mock blow on the midwind region where, according to ring history, Fitzsimons dropped Corbett in their historic championship fight. Then he sprang back, arms and fists feinting.
"Can't you see how I feel?" he retorted. "Want to try me more?"
"Nit, you shyster, nit!" Blaine was laughing as he recovered, retreating and grimacing, as if in mock misery. "I don't want no more solar plexus stuff at this stage of the game. I guess you're all right."
"Bet your thick cocoanut I am! I was a bit drowsy at first. Say,
Lafe, you know I must be in on this, whatever it is."
"Sure! I was at first a bit afraid that all those air stunts might have frazzled you a little, seeing you are just out of hospital."
"Honest Injun, Lafe, I'm all right! Don't you forget to remember that!"
"Well, then, get your clothes on. I want to talk to you private like." And Blaine sauntered off, lighting, a cigarette, while Erwin hastily put on his clothes. Going out soon, he encountered Blaine on the parade before the hangars where the starting of planes usually began.
It promised to be a lovely day. Not a cloud was in the sky. Off to the east a lone airplane was, soaring high over No-Man Is-Land, doubtless one of the night scouts that are maintained along that portion of the front.
Said Lafe:
"Last night after the rest of you had gone to the clubroom, Byers sent for me and told me briefly what he wanted us to attempt today. You know those sausages the Boches got now, over back of that bluff you unearthed the day you came home after our last raid?"
"Appincourte?" Orris blinked and nodded. "I ought to remember."
"Well, the French have tried a time or two to get them, but the Boche planes have been too much for them so far. Kept them so busy fighting back, they had no time to do much bombing. And now word has come from headquarters that they must go. Must! See?"
Erwin nodded. He took a deep breath, feeling already the lift in the pure morning air. Blaine continued:
"Well, Anson was to have headed this raid, but he's been promoted also. He's an ensign now. I am in his place and they made you corporal under me for two reasons. One was on account of the stunts you did along with me; then for what you did after you went on your own hook and busted into that Boche communicating trench which made them try to Archie you and thus exposed to us what they had done in making themselves at home under Appincourte Bluff."
"Yes, yes! Come to the point, Lafe! What is it you and I have got to do today, or whenever it comes off?"
"Don't be so impatient. The second reason is because they now think you have nerve enough for most anything, and that we two, working together might succeed in puffing off this sausage business best in our own way."
"You mean we are to bomb them where and when we please?"
"No — of course not! But Byers, who is the real head here, thinks you and I, taking as many other chaps along as we please, can force our way in our fighting planes to where these pesky gas keep hanging and spying on us, and literally blow them to dashed smithereens. See?"
"But how? Their Archies will blow us to Hades and be gone before we reach anywhere near. It looks like a forlorn hope —"
Blaine smiled, as he interrupted with:
'Like Balaklava, eh? Or old Pickett's third day charge at Gettysburg?"
Erwin did not reply. Blaine continued:
"If we go strong enough and swift and low enough, we'll got there; and, once there we'll do the bombing all righty!"
"And in broad daylight, too?"
"I don't say that, Orry. All this is strictly between you and me. Byers rather favors a daylight raid as affording a better chance to regain our own lines, either after bombing or in case we fail. But we're not going to fail . These dratted sausages have got to come down!"
"Are you sure they stay up at night?"
"Ever since we busted up that bluff you exposed, there they stay day and night, half a dozen or more. And my own notion is that if we have a new offensive here, which I think looks likely to a man up a tree, those blamed sausages will give the Boches too much leeway in nosing out ahead what we might be trying to do in getting ready."
"Well, what else? Will Captain Byers leave it to you? "
"I think he will . Having tried every other way and failed, he will let us — you and me in private but me in public, decide upon the way we'd prefer. Both of us have been over the ground. We know how far we have to go. I also know about what the Boches have got behind those balloons. It was only a few miles from there that we — you and me — got that Taube and the German aviator. Believe me, unless things have changed mightily, there isn't much there in the way of reinforcements or more planes or anything."
"You've been back there since?"
"You bet! Finzer and I went over there the day before you left the hospital. The Boches have no notion that our side is doing anything here, except air-raiding in No-Man's-Land or using our planes. That is one reason the headquarters thinks that it is a good place to — to do something."
"Well Lafe," Orris spoke deliberately, "you know I am with you. Tell me as much or as little as you please. I'll follow you to the last notch."
"I knew it!" Blaine grasped his comrade's hand and nearly wrung the fingers off. "Well, keep mum! Don't say anything to anybody but me. If Byers says anything, give him to understand you are in it from the word go, but no more. We'll win out again. Hear me?"
For reply, Erwin shook his released fingers, regarded Blaine with mock reproach, and volunteered:
"I'll agree to everything after that grip, I'm with you to the death.
But don't do that again."
Blaine laughed gleefully as he turned away, patting Orris on the shoulder approvingly.
"I always thought you were a sticker, Orry."
"That's better 'n being a slicker or a slacker, isn't it?"
Again the big fellow laughed as he hurried off towards the Captain's quarters at the far end of the grounds.
The day passed quietly. From time to time, Blaine held private conferences with various members of the flying squad. These were mostly Americans who had either served a year or two at the western front, or were more recent arrival who had joined because of special aptitude for flying.
During the day sundry scouts penetrated here and there over the enemy lines and their report were favorable for the plan Blaine had in mind. A risky plan, yet promising well if skillfully carried out.
Towards night he had a last conference with Byers, who had more than hesitated over the proposed program, yet gave in before the Sergeant's enthusiasms.
"I agree," said the commander. "But it is risky. It can be done. Yet whether you are the man to do it — well, we'll know in the morning. Do your best. Be prudent; not too prudent; but at the same time try to be wise to things as they come up. Remember I have more responsibility than you. Your responsibility is only to me. It ceases where mine begins."
"Don't fear, Captain. Let what Erwin and I did the other night be duly considered. I need your full support —"
"Young man, you have it!" Here Byers took Blaine's hand and shook it heartily. "Bring back as many of your squad as you can, but above all carry out your program."
Night came, and with it a comfortable fog that rose white and misty, good for the purpose in hand. The clocks were pointing towards seven when something like a dozen men, wearing the regulation uniform, gathered at the usual open space, while from the doors of several hangars mechanics were silently rolling out machines.
Each aviator gave a few comprehensive looks and touches to his own plane, just to reassure himself that things were all right. Then came a brief moment or two of silent waiting. There were no, spectators. Even the rest of the men at the aerodrome did not appear. This was according to orders.
Out in front stood Captain Byers, attended by Blaine and Erwin, talking in low, indistinct tones. Finally Byers looked at his watch.
"Time's up, I guess. Do your best, you two. You, Blaine, will veer to the right as you approach the enemy trenches. You, sir," to Orris, "will draw to the left. Your squads will follow their respective leaders. Should you meet opposition before you reach the balloons, don't flinch. Pour on more speed. Don't signal unless necessary but obey signals when given. Au revoir, lads! Don't come back until you have delivered the goods."
Back went the Sergeant and Corporal, each to his own machine, which headed a short double line holding six planes, or a dozen in all.
At a quiet signal the leaders rose, spiraling into the upper darkness. Presently all had vanished, zigzagging in an easterly direction. About this time there came a sudden blue flare as a solitary rocket shot upward from beyond the grove of trees that that marked the landing place within the enclosed area that formed this aerodrome.
Instantly Byers was on the qui vive, he being nearest the point indicated by the blue flare. Bursting into a full run, he sped towards the spot, at the same time breaking in on several sentries unobtrusively posted about the grounds where the raiders had departed.
"Scatter lads!" he ordered. "Hurry! Spies at work! Halt any one you see, no matter who! Bring 'em in!"
Never halting in his race, he made directly for the spot whence the flare of the rocket had gone up. As he neared the trees, the sounds of a child's voice came to his ears, just inside the grove. It was remonstrating to some one.
"D — don't, papa! I — I want to get the pieces. My! Wasn't it pretty —"
Another voice, hoarse, gruff, stopped the childish words, but what it said was indistinguishable. Byers looked around. Two of his sentries were near, all of them running.
"Did you hear that child?" queried the captain. "Scatter! Don't let either child or the grow one escape. Be spry! Watch out!"
As Byers uttered the last exclamation, a running figure emerged from the shadow of the nearer trees and started full tilt towards the quarters where the cook's galley was. All three, running hard had slightly scattered, in order to intercept the fugitive should he try to dodge amid the various buildings.
Swift as were the pursuers, the fugitive was more speedy.
At one instant they saw him in a twinkling of light from one of the open doors. The next instant the form was gone. There came a faint echo of half-smothered infantile cries.
Byers dashed by the lighted door, then stumbled over a small form on the ground and there rose another wail, now of terror if not of pain.
Quickly the captain picked up the small figure in big arms and ran on, holding it gently, yet firmly, and saying:
"There, there, little one! I won't hurt you!"
"D — don't you hurt my pa, " wailed the small figure in his arms. "He — was only making show for me —" More crying.
Where was the man? Only one clew had the captain. The fellow was round-shouldered, or seemed so in the glimpse Byers caught of them just before he dropped the child. Presently, one after another of the sentries came in, breathless yet unsuccessful. Somehow the fugitive had vanished, and look as they might, no further sign of him was seen.
"Skip around some more!" ordered the captain. "Try every door you pass. The fellow must be around somewhere. Call me if necessary. I'll be on hand."
While the baffled sentries did as directed Byers who was a father himself, placed the child on a convenient bench beside him, patting its head soothingly with one hand while he searched his pockets with the other. Then he produced the remnant of a package of chocolate drops, part of the contents of a box recently received from home.
"Like candy?" he asked, putting some of the candy in the child's lap.
"Good candy — right, from my home across the sea."
This in such French as Byers could command, which was plenty for the purpose. At first the child, whom he now perceived was a girl, would not try it, but presently a sight of the sweet was more than it could stand.
Seizing the offered sweets, it began to eat greedily.
"My papa have no sweets like this," munching greedily. "Who you?
Where my papa?"
"Know where your pa stays? I take you back to him."
For an answer the girl jumped down, still clutching the candy. She took Byers' hand, leading him back by another alley amid buildings here devoted to the culinary department of that cantonment. One of the sentries appeared. The child pushed on, leading Byers, who cautioned the sentry to say nothing, but to follow.
"What is your papa's name?" asked the captain.
"He name Bauer — Monsieur Bauer —" The child suddenly stopped.
"What is the matter, little one?" asked Byers, pulses thrilling under a vague suspicion. But here the sentry, forgetting the captain's caution, interposed with:
"I know him, Sir! Hermann Bauer, our assistant quartermaster -"
'Hush-h-h!" admonished Byers, frowning, shaking his head and pointing at the child, now staring at him wonderingly, then pouting as she queried:
"You no hurt my papa?"
The door of a nearby house suddenly flew open and a fleshy, round-shouldered man appeared. He saluted, then said:
"Good evening, Messieurs! I see you have my little girl with you."
"Monsieur Bauer!" The captain stood up, ignoring the other's salute.
"I suppose you know that you are now under arrest?"
"It is what I feared. May I take my little girl inside?"
"Yes, provided the sentry and I go with you."
"You may as well: you'll go anyway. Please do not give me away."
With remarkable nerve, Bauer lifted the wondering child to his arms and led the way inside.
Five minutes later he emerged, the captain and the sentry on either side, and set out amid childish protests from within.
"She overtook me while I was on my way," he confessed. "It is fate, I guess."
Then the three started on the way to aerodrome headquarters.
About this time came the sounds of heavy firing over No-Man's-Land.
"That is one result of your rocket, Bauer, Byers, grimly.