“Did you see our fellows?” was Henri’s first eager question, as he shook off his coat of ashes.
“You bet I did,” coughed Billy, whose face had plowed a furrow in the ash heap. “A bunch of the gray men in a motor boat pounced on them while they were tinkering with the sea-plane and took them and the plane in tow to Ostend. They were brought down here so that General So and So, I don’t remember who, could look them over, but the general and his brigade have gone off somewhere to the north to try and stop the advance of the Allies. The captain and Freeman both say they are in no special danger and are very kindly treated. They have their papers as American citizens and agents abroad for our factory. Then there is the storm story as their reason for being blown into the war zone without fighting clothes.
“How did I come to quit that house yonder like a skyrocket? Well, just as the captain and I had finished exchanging experiences, and old Josh Freeman had nearly broken my ribs with a bear hug, one of the rounders in the house concluded to pay a visit to the room where we were. We didn’t hear him until he reached the top of the stairs, where he stopped to sneeze. With that sneeze I did my leaping act. That soldier never saw me; I’ll wager on that.”
“What’ll we do now?” That was more what Henri wanted to know.
“Get back to the machine before daylight.” Billy’s main idea was that the safest place was a couple of thousand feet in the air.
Daylight was not far away. Henri and Leon held a committee meeting to determine the best route back to the fortifications. The little Belgian was sure of his ground, and before sunrise, by countless twists and turns, the trio were back to the stone hangar where the aëroplane rested.
The first faint streaks of dawn gave light enough for Billy to do his tuning work about the machine. Henri was bending over, in the act of testing the fuel supply, when there was a thud of horses’ hoofs on all sides of the enclosure, followed by a shrill cry from Leon:
“Sauvez vous! Vite! Vite!” (Save yourself! Quick! Quick!)
With that the little Belgian frantically tugged at the aëroplane, and not until our Aviator Boys had swung the machine into the open and leaped to their places in the frame did the brave youngster quit his post. Then he ran like a rabbit, waving quick farewell, and disappeared in the wilderness of stone.
Lickety clip the aëroplane moved over the ground. Then up and away!