THE PERIL IN THE SKY.
Day after day the wounded from the front were being received in Dunkirk,
Calais and other places along the coast. They were usually taken further
on as soon as their immediate wants could be attended to.
In many cases the stricken soldiers would be carried by train to the
large Red Cross hospitals in and around Paris. Then besides this, on
many a night a steamer would start from Dunkirk across the Channel
bearing hundreds of British back to their own shores, where they could
receive the best of care among their people. These voyages were made
when possible in the gloom of night, and at full speed, in order to
avoid the risk of having the vessel torpedoed by lurking German
submarines, ready to deliver crushing blows to her enemy's ships.
Frank stood in the crowd and watched the transfer of the poor fellows to
the temporary hospital. They were mostly British soldiers who had
received their injuries while trying to hold the trenches against some
fierce drive on the part of Bavarians or Prussians.
As he saw one after another swathed figure borne on stretchers from the
ambulance motors into the hospital, Frank felt a sense of pity for all
these who were suffering on account of this terrible war, no matter on
which side they chanced to be.
He finally turned away, not caring to see any more such pitiful sights.
He marveled at the brave front displayed by even the most dreadfully
wounded men, who tried to greet the crowd and smiled through the mud
that plastered their faces.
Remembering what he and Billy had discovered in connection with the
gathering of a new army back of the German trenches, Frank expected that
in a few days there was bound to be a greater stream of wounded pouring
into Dunkirk than ever before, because a desperate attack was doubtless
contemplated.
When he learned from Major Nixon that some of the Allies' aviators had
brought in the news concerning that gathering host of gray-clad
soldiers, Frank realized that he could speak of it without reservation,
since it would not be giving information as to the enemy's contemplated
plans.
Remembering one more errand which needed his attention, Frank, after
leaving the vicinity of the Red Cross hospital, had immediately started
to look after it. He was through with it and actually starting for the
hangar when once again he became aware of the fact that a sudden
confusion had broken out. People were shouting in an excited manner, as
though a mad dog had broken loose and was coming down the main street of
Dunkirk.
There was no difficulty in learning what was the matter. That wild cry
of alarm was becoming very familiar to the ears of the worried citizens
of Dunkirk these stormy days.
"The Germans are coming! The Germans are coming!"
In French and in English this shout was being carried along, constantly
added to by scores of voices. People rushed pell-mell this way and that,
many dodging down into cellars, as though seeking safety from some
terror that was likely to descend on the coast city like a cyclone.
Those who were not yet running had their necks craned, and their eyes
turned upward toward the northeast. Frank stepped over to where he could
see better, and then he also "rubbered," as Billy would have called it.
On numerous occasions the German aviators had conducted an organized
raid on Dunkirk, dropping dozens of terrible bombs in what seemed like
an indiscriminate fashion. Possibly these were in the main intended to
damage the camps or accumulated stores of the British legions; but if so
the aim of the men in the Taubes was singularly bad, for the majority of
the bombs had thus far either exploded in the open streets, or shattered
private houses.
Many innocent persons, including women and children, had suffered from
these explosives, and it was not singular then that whenever the cry was
raised that the "Germans were coming," meaning a raiding flock of
aëroplanes, there would ensue a mad panic in the streets of the French
city.
"There are several moving things over there away up in the heavens,"
Frank told himself as he gazed in more or less excitement. "Even without
a glass I'm almost ready to say they can't be Taubes."
He stood there watching and waiting until the soaring objects drew
closer, when their true identity could be discovered.
Frank, being an aviator himself, quickly detected certain things that
the common observer might never have discovered; and which told him the
half dozen specks in the sky that February morning were birds and not
aëroplanes.
"Some gulls flying high," he murmured as he watched. "Yes, there they
circle around, which aviators bent on bombarding the city and then
running off in a hurry would never think of doing."
He told those near him that there was nothing to fear, as the suspected
Taubes were only harmless birds. The cheering word was passed along from
mouth to mouth, and some of those who only a few minutes before were
looking very peaked and white commenced to laugh, trying to make out
that they knew all along the advancing specks were only birds.
By degrees even the shivering inmates of the cellars learned that it was
a false alarm, and ventured to appear again.
"And I suppose this happens several times every day," Frank mused as he
watched the arteries of traffic once more begin to flow naturally.
"While little damage that amounts to anything has been done by the
bombs, the coming of the Germans is looked forward to with dread. I
suppose if a flier happened to be brought down with a well directed shot
from a gun it would give the people more pleasure than anything they
could wish for."
It struck him that possibly the other boys might have heard something of
all this excitement and would be worried about him. So Frank stepped
into a store he knew of and proceeded to get the hangar on the wire.
There was some little difficulty at first, as though a good many people
were trying to communicate with their homes for some purpose or other.
Finally a voice called in good English:
"Hello! that you, Frank?"
"Yes, that's who it is, Billy. I only called you up thinking you might
have heard all the shouting, and wonder what it was."
"Oh! some of the guards here guessed it, and we've been watching the
gulls through our field glass. But how about the other business, Frank;
is it all fixed?"
"I'm coming back right away," Frank told him. "Soon after I join you,
there will be something doing. I'll tell you the rest when I get there;
but everything is going on O. K. So-long, Billy. Keep watching, for
they're ready to try everything under the sun to gain their end. I've
got a new story for you when I come."
Frank by this action had not only accomplished his purpose of relieving
the minds of his chums, but at the same time he had made sure that
things were unchanged at the hangar.
Determined not to take any risks that could be avoided, Frank waited
until he saw a battery of field-pieces moving along the road that led
close by the gate of the hangar. Perhaps the guns had come over from
England on the previous night, and being badly needed at the front, were
starting forth.
This was the opportunity he wanted. By keeping alongside the guns and
caissons he could defy any hidden danger. If there were spies waiting to
waylay him in some rather lonely spot, just as they had Pudge on the
preceding night, the presence of those young khaki-clad warriors seated
on the gun carriages and ammunition carts would foil them.
There was no trouble. Possibly Frank might not have been held up even
though he chose to take the walk without any protection; but when in
doubt it was always his policy to "play safe."
When he again found himself in the hangar, the others were eager to hear
what he had promised to tell them.
"You've been having another scrape of some sort, like as not," ventured
Billy, pretending to look morose, as though he begrudged his comrade
that privilege while he and Pudge were only sitting there killing time.
Frank thereupon related how he had been drawn into rendering assistance
when the said-to-be wife of an apparent citizen of Dunkirk, who spoke
excellent English without a French accent, appeared to faint close to
the door of her own home.
The other boys were thrilled by what seemed like a narrow escape on the
part of their comrade.
"Ganders and gridirons, Frank!" exploded Pudge after listening with
distended eyes to the account given by the returned chum. "That was a
narrow squeak for you, as sure as anything."
"Yes," added Billy, "they had it all laid out to trap you. If you'd
dared to step inside that open door I reckon you'd have been tapped over
the head, and when you came to again it would be to find yourself in
some old damp and moldy cellar. I give you credit for tumbling to their
smart game, Frank."
"Bayous and bullfrogs, they certainly do want to get hold of this bully
machine of ours the worst kind, and that's a fact!" spluttered Pudge.
"But tell us about the Major, and what he agreed to do?" asked Billy.
"It's all fixed just as we figured it," replied Frank. "I want this man
here to understand what has been done, so come over to where you've got
him."
The prisoner had been watching them eagerly. He must have guessed that
Frank had been gone to settle about his fate, and, if ever a man looked
nervous, he did, as the three boys advanced toward him.
"Listen to something I want you to hear," said Frank. "We know what you
are, and that if you were given in charge as a spy you'd likely be shot
by to-morrow morning. But we are American boys, and not at all inclined
to have the blood of a German honestly serving his Fatherland on our
hands. Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes, go on," muttered the man, brightening up, though still anxious.
"I have arranged it with the authorities that you will only be looked on
as a petty thief. You will be held in close confinement for a few days
until it is certain that any information you may have picked up while
here in this building will be useless. Then they will take you out of
the city and set you free, with a warning never to be seen here again if
you value your life."
Now the man's face lighted up in a smile.
"That is much better," he said, after drawing a long breath of relief.
"We thought you were on the side of the Allies, because you meant to
turn _it_ over to the French Government."
"You must remember," said Frank impressively, "that this machine had
been over here, boxed but not assembled, for months before the war
opened. My company had a contract with the French people, who insisted
on representatives being sent across to demonstrate the new flier;
otherwise they threatened to seize it, and make duplicates without our
receiving any remuneration--the necessities of war. That is why we have
come, and are even now trying to carry out the terms of that agreement.
You can tell your people that only for this our company would not dream
of making aëroplanes for one side or the other. They could not be
shipped out of the United States, anyway."
"I understand your position," said the man; "and while it explains many
things it does not change our design to prevent the enemy from profiting
by your improved type of machine. If by any means it can be stolen or
destroyed we believe we are only doing our duty by the Fatherland in
risking our lives to attempt it."
"Well, here comes the patrol to take you to the city prison; and,
remember, you are to insist that you entered our hangar to steal, not to
spy on us," Frank told him.