“I’ve done the thing myself for a lark, and with a lantern fastened to it to show where it sailed. Amos, in these war times all sorts of strange dodges are made use of so as to send important information.”
This time it was Amos who whistled.
“You’ve certainly got me stirred up in great shape, Jack,” he admitted. “Who but these smart German spies would ever think of sending information through the enemy’s lines by means of red lanterns attached to a big kite?”
“A clever dodge, all right,” ventured the Western boy, as they continued to stand there on the road and watch the colored lights in the heavens above.
“I wonder what they signify?”
“Those who, far away, are looking through night glasses must know,” Jack explained. “Two lights mean a certain fact, and three would carry a different message.”
“It’s a bold man who would risk his life to do such a thing,” commented Amos, “for if caught at it he must expect to meet the usual fate of a spy—a file of men, his arms bound, his eyes bandaged, a rattle of guns, and that would wind up his career.”
“Still, thousands are taking that chance every day, in France, England and over in Russia,” said Jack. “The spy system of the German army excels by far anything ever dreamed of by other nations.”
“Of course we’ll never really know the truth about this business, Jack?”
“I was just wondering whether it might be possible to find that out, and if we ought to meddle with matters that are really no concern of ours,” was what Jack surprised him by saying.