One of the engineers on the ground below had a strong rope with him, and this was thrown over the limb of the tree. A noose was placed around the German’s body, and then he was slowly and carefully lowered to the ground, after which Dave and the others descended from the tree.
While the rescue was taking place three of the engineers had gone around to the other side of the blaze, trying to get at the burning plane. They had managed with long sticks to poke a few things away from the fusilage, but these proved to be of but little importance and were carried off by all of the crowd merely as souvenirs.
The German was still insensible, and it was not until he had been carried to a safe distance and the engineers had dashed some water into his face that he recovered and opened his eyes. In the meantime, five of the men were detailed to watch the fire and see to it that it burned itself out without starting a general conflagration through the forest.
“We don’t want these woods burned up just yet,” was the way Dave expressed himself. “We need the trees to screen our operations in this vicinity.”
The prisoner proved to be a man not over twenty-five years of age. That he was well educated was evident. Like most aviators, he was of slight build, and he had light hair and gray eyes. He gave his name as Heinrich Eberhardt, and told the aviation unit to which he belonged.
“I am very thankful to you for having saved my life,” he said, in his broken English, to Dave and the others. “If you had not come to my aid, I would have been burned up,” and he shuddered.
“I’d hate to see anybody burned alive,” returned Dave. Then he questioned the aviator about himself and learned that the fellow had leaped from the burning scout-plane while he was yet a hundred feet or more above the tree.
“Had I not done that I would have been burned alive in mid-air,” continued Heinrich Eberhardt, in his broken English. “Such things often happen. One of my best friends was burned up that way last year.”
As the hurt aviator was in no condition to walk, word was sent back to the camp of the engineers, and a little later hospital men came after him with a stretcher. This, however, took some time, and in the meanwhile Dave had an opportunity to ask the fellow some questions, being glad to know that the man could speak English, even though brokenly.
“I and my twin brother, Fritz, are alone in the world,” said Heinrich Eberhardt. “Both of our parents died when we were small boys, and we were brought up by an uncle who had spent a few years in America and England. He could speak English very well indeed, and he insisted upon it that we learn something of the language, stating that it would be good for us in business. But neither my brother Fritz nor I cared to study any too well, so we didn’t learn any more than we had to,” and Heinrich Eberhardt smiled faintly. Dave and the others had rendered him what first aid they could, and made him as comfortable as possible on a pile of brushwood. He was, of course, suffering much pain, but he was too plucky to complain.