CHAPTER VII.
CLOSE TO THE FIRING LINE.
“You’re right about it, Hanky Panky!” announced Rod, after he had taken a good look aloft, and recognized some of the familiar features distinguishing the Taube aeroplanes used almost exclusively at that early stage of the war by the German military forces.
“It’s snooping around getting information so’s to help Von Kluck strike the Allies where they don’t expect him, most likely!” the boy in the rear called out.
“Mebbe not,” said Josh stoutly; “for all we know old Von may have put his fingers in the trap laid by wily General Joffre, and what he wants to do now is to find a way to draw out again.”
Whether Josh really believed all he said or not was an open question, but at any rate it was in his heart to stand up staunchly for the French and English, whatever came to pass. He had seen that vast German horde overrun poor Belgium, and he was praying they might meet an obstacle when they finally ran up against the whole Allied army, standing before Paris, and determined to do or die there.
They cast many a glance upward as they continued to move along. The aeroplane did not seem to be disturbed, as far as they could make out. If there were French birdmen in the vicinity they had other work cut out for them besides chasing a hostile flier. Possibly they were over the fighting armies, finding out valuable statistics for the use of the French commanders, and which might affect the ultimate outcome of the battle.
All doubt concerning their being in the vicinity of the field of gigantic operations was by this time removed. The roar of guns had kept on growing more and more intense. Besides, it was easy for them to make sure that what Hanky Panky had suggested as a threatening summer storm cloud was in reality smoke from artillery and burning cottages along the line of Von Kluck’s advance.
Once they had to stop and get on one side of the road in order to permit the passage of a convoy of motor lorries loaded with wounded men. The boys noticed that some of these wore the khaki of British soldiers, which seemed to prove that a portion of General French’s little army from across the Channel must be valiantly holding a part of the thin line against the furious rushes of the disciplined German troops.
The three boys took off their hats and waved them heartily as the procession of trucks passed by. Some of the wounded answered them lustily, showing that their spirit had not been in the least quenched by their hard luck in getting in the way of hostile missiles.
Josh was burning with a feverish desire to be moving again.