Amos joined in with what vim he could muster, so that, taken in all, they managed to create a pretty respectable disturbance around that region.
It turned out just as Jack had surmised would be the case. The man who was signalling over the British lines to his German confederates immediately dropped the end of the cord connected with the kite that bore the twin red lights.
Amos, still shouting at the top of his voice, saw him duck down as though meaning to dodge any bullets that might be sent in his direction. After that, the figure of the spy was seen no more between them and the gray heavens. Judging from the medley of sounds that came from the other side of the mound it might be guessed that the man, either intentionally or through sheer accident, was rolling headlong down the slope.
Jack stopped yelling, and broke out into a laugh, in which his cousin naturally joined.
“Look at the kite falling!” the Western boy called out, and Amos turned just in time to see the twin red lights before they vanished behind some trees or other obstruction to his view, dropping lower all the time.
“We’ve done what we aimed to accomplish, Jack,” he went on to say, when he could catch his voice. “After all, it was as easy as falling off a log.”
“But I’m afraid he had his message up in the sky, whatever it stood for, long enough to do its work.”
As Jack said this he clutched hold of the other and whirled him around again so that his face was toward the northwest.
“That looks like a bursting rocket, as sure as you live!” exclaimed Amos, as he discovered a shower of colored stars far away, that seemed to be floating in space.
“It is just that,” admitted his chum.