CHAPTER XXI
A VISITOR
Jerry Hopkins, with his two chums and some of the hospital patients who were able to move about, rushed toward the sound of the shouting and firing. Jerry’s leg wound was healed, and save for a slight limp he was all right again.
The boys saw a group of soldiers gathered about a battery of guns erected a short time before to repel air raids. And that this was now a time to use the weapons was evident after a glance aloft.
For, hovering just below the clouds, were three big Hun planes, and that they had come over the lines to bomb the American positions was only too evident.
There was no time to stop and inquire how the hostile aircraft had managed to elude the vigilance of the Allied airmen at the front. It was time to act and act promptly, and at once the anti-aircraft batteries opened, while word was quickly telephoned to the nearest aerodrome, so that American, French, or British fliers might ascend to attack 172 the Germans. It was the shooting at the Hun planes with the guns nearest the hospital that had broken in on Jerry’s remarks.
“They won’t bomb the hospital, will they?” asked Ned, in wonder.
“They’re very likely to,” declared Jerry. “Then later on they’ll claim they couldn’t see the red crosses on the roof, or else they’ll say they meant to drop bombs on an ammunition dump or a railroad center and they miscalculated the distance—the beasts!”