When would they hear those reassuring sounds again? What chance had Bill and his friends of ever returning to their comrades? And, worst thought of all, what opportunity would they have to circumvent the plans of Heinrich Hilker, the villain who by this time, in all probability, had landed behind the American lines, and was no doubt already fraternizing with those whose destruction he plotted?
CHAPTER XVII An American Encampment
A small crescent of the moon illuminated the country-side, thrusting pale beams through the mist which rose from the ground, sodden after days of rain, lighting up the roofs of houses, the white walls of barns, camouflaged tents and huts, and gleaming now and again from the wings of an aeroplane soaring over the line. A man in that aeroplane, masked and clad in leather garments, bent forward, tapped his pilot on the shoulder, and spoke to him through the telephone which connected their head-pieces.
"A little lower, Fritz; now to the right. Wait! I think I see the church tower which was to be our mark. No, not that one; farther on. Listen!—there are guns! I saw the flashes down below, so that we are still in the area of operations."
The pilot grunted. He was a huge, broad-shouldered beast-like individual. He turned his head impatiently and growled something into the telephone, though what it was Heinrich Hilker, seated behind him, did not understand. How could he? How could he realize that these gruff words shouted at him contained all the venomous contempt of which the pilot was capable, and yet a contempt which he dared not show too openly.
"This—this Hilker—a spy—yes!" the pilot was saying to himself. "Not that I blame him for that, for it's a dangerous game to play, and calls for courage. But is the fellow honest with anyone at all?—with us, for instance? I doubt it. Yet, what is one to think? For his record for America is splendid, and now he goes to join the Americans again. Bah! it's a dangerous game to play; that is, dangerous for us should he elect to tell the Americans all he knows about us."
So Heinrich Hilker, intriguer, ruffian, rascal that he was, had succeeded in arousing the suspicions of one at least of his compatriots, while certainly he had aroused in the minds of Bill and Larry and his chums something far beyond suspicion. Not that Heinrich Hilker himself cared what others thought. To him the work that he was engaged on was the height of enjoyment. America, for some unexplained reason, seemed to have aroused all his enmity. Well, Americans were down below there. He would soon be amongst them. A friend—yes, a friend for the moment. And what would his coming portend? Disaster!