CHAPTER XII.
THE MEETING BETWEEN THE LINES.
"Good for us! We're the ones to read a message! But say, was that in German, or French, or English, I want to know?" and Tubby seized his chums each by an arm, as he asked this question in a husky whisper.
"When you come to making dots and dashes in the Morse code, or what answers for the same with the heliograph, or a torch, or signal flags, I guess all languages are the same!" Merritt told him, more to keep Tubby quiet than for any other reason.
"The question is, who could that message have been for?" Rob was muttering.
"There, he starts in again," said Tubby. "He's a most persistent sort of chap, I take it, and means that the other fellow will get that message, sooner or later. What 'coast is clear'? Why, we're miles and miles away from the sea-shore now, ain't we? And what under the sun does he mean by 'safe landing'? Where's the boat going to come from, somebody tell me quick?"
"I think I know," Rob had just managed to say in reply, when all of them were suddenly startled to hear a queer, rattling sound from behind that kept swiftly drawing nearer and nearer, until presently Tubby, in sheer alarm, dropped flat to the ground.
As he lay sprawled out on his back, judge of his astonishment when he saw some object, that was like an immense bird, pass over not fifty feet above him. It was heading directly for the spot where the light of the lantern glowed in that open field.
The shuttle sound abruptly ceased.
"He's shut off his engine," remarked Rob, apparently intensely interested.