It was not much, Bumpus thought, but then he could at least say that he had had a hand in the rescue of the unfortunate aeroplane pilot.
Giraffe climbed quickly, and reached the vicinity of the stranded aviator first. He was even talking in German with him when the other two arrived. They could see just how the garments of the man had become caught in the branches, so that he was held there as in a vise, utterly unable to help himself.
“He says he’s been here all night,” said Giraffe, eagerly, his face aglow with pride over the fact that once more his high school German was proving valuable. “He was swinging up pretty high, taking notes of the disposition of the Belgian forces, when he found himself a target for heavy firing. He thinks his machine must have been hit as well as himself, for it started to act queer. So he made off like the wind to get as far away from the firing line as he could, always falling, and in the end he struck this tree just before dark.”
“He’s been wounded in the left arm,” said Thad, “for you can see how it hangs helpless, and there’s dried blood on his sleeve too, caking it hard. He might have bled to death here if that arm didn’t happen to be above him, which has helped to stop the flow. I’m afraid it’ll start in again while we’re getting him down, but that can’t be helped.”
“We’ll fix that soon enough, Thad,” said Giraffe, eagerly, “once we get him on the ground. Scouts ought to know their business enough to fix up any ordinary hurt like that. But have you arranged your plan, Thad? Tell us what to do, and you’ll see us get busy.”
The patrol leader had taken a hasty survey of the situation. He saw there was only one way in which they could get the aviator free from the clinging branches, and swing him in to the body of the tree.
Accordingly he began to give his orders clearly.
“You reach him on that side, Giraffe, and I’ll take hold here. When we swing him in, Allan, you catch hold, and keep him steady. Then we’ll cut these twigs, and free his leather coat. But be careful, both of you, for a slip would mean broken bones, if not something worse. Now, ready, Giraffe? Then when I say three, start swinging!”
CHAPTER XVIII.
GOOD SAMARITANS.
“Well done, Allan!” exclaimed Giraffe as the third boy successfully clutched the aviator, after they had managed between them to swing him in.