Bumpus did not say anything more. He needed all the breath he could gather in so as to keep within reasonable distance of his three chums, who were making pretty fast time toward the tall tree.
As they drew closer to the spot all doubt concerning the nature of the heap on the ground was dissipated. It was undoubtedly a wrecked aeroplane, and Thad, who had taken pains to look these things up, told the others it was without question a Taube model, small but swift.
“That means the man up yonder will turn out to be a German aviator, doesn’t it, Thad?” asked Allan, who was at his side, with Giraffe leading.
“No question about that,” was the reply, “because the Germans are the only ones who are using the Taube model exclusively. They seem to think it about fills the bill for safety and speed.”
They had seen the man who was held fast among the branches of the tree almost at the apex, in fact, wave his hand to them several times. This told the boys he was still alive, even though possibly suffering tortures. It also informed them that he had been watching their coming, and while restraining from shouting out, meant to implore their assistance.
“How are we going to get him down?” asked Giraffe, as they reached the foot of the tree, which looked as though it could be easily scaled, since the lower limbs came close to the ground.
“Three of us must climb up,” said Thad. “We can help each other, and it strikes me we ought to be able to make it.”
“One thing in our favor,” remarked Allan, who was famous for seeing things, “the aviator is a rather small man. That’s going to be lots of help.”
“What can I do, Thad?” asked Bumpus, willing to attempt anything going, though his bulk would hardly allow him to be useful up aloft; in fact he was apt to bother the others rather than prove of assistance.
“Stay down here, and take the man when we lower him from the limbs,” Thad told him.