Imperiled in a Trap.
"He can't be shooting at us!" protested Harry vigorously. "We haven't
done anything to him. It must be a mistake!"
"Mistake or not, I know the sing of a bullet by this time, and if that
wasn't one that just passed us, I'll give up!"
"Watch out!" shouted Jack, peering through a pair of binoculars he had
hurriedly seized. "He's aiming at us again!"
Again the peculiar sound as of quickly torn silk cloth greeted the ears
of the boys. Jimmie involuntarily ducked his head.
"Perhaps we'd better slow up a bit, Ned, and see what this chap wants,"
suggested Harry anxiously. "This is a warm reception to France, I must
say! Wonder if they always do this to newcomers?"
"Don't know, I'm sure," replied Ned as he slackened speed.
"Let's descend a little and see if he follows. Maybe we can land and
he'll explain himself. Try it and see, Ned."
"Pick out a good spot and I'll make a landing," Ned replied.
"Here's a good one," Jimmie announced. "Come down in that field by the
barn with the thatched roof. See, by that clump of trees."
"Sure I do! But do you notice how the houses are set close to the
barns? How neat the country looks from this position!"
"Don't try to get our attention off the chap behind us like that, Ned!"
protested Jimmie. "If he shoots again, I'll get sore!"
Evidently the aviator in the monoplane divined their intention of
landing, for he fired no more shots, but contented himself with
following closely in their wake, although keeping slightly above them.
In a short time Ned had brought the Grey Eagle gently to earth in a
vacant field beside the buildings indicated by Jimmie.
The monoplane was circling slowly about, evidently in an effort to make
a good landing. The pilot did not seem to be sure of his ground.
Directly the machine had reached the earth, however, the pilot,
accompanied by another person, leaped from the machine and with a
drawn revolver in his right hand walked rapidly toward the boys.
"What uniform is that he's wearing?" questioned Jimmie.
"I don't know. Possibly that of the French Aviation Corps."
As the two men neared the Grey Eagle the one in uniform addressed the
lads in French. They shook their heads to indicate that they did not
understand. At this he addressed his companion.
With the stoop of his slender frame accentuated by the sloping
shoulders, his quick, shifty movements of the hands and hurried glances
from small, beady black eyes, the other man did not compare favorably
with the erect carriage and frank, honest appearance of the man in
uniform. Jimmie tapped Ned excitedly on the arm.
"I've got his number!" he whispered eagerly. "That's The Rat or I'm a
Dutchman! Look at his chopped-off chin and peaked nose."
"He looks remarkably like the pictures Mr. Bosworth gave us!" declared
Ned in a startled tone. "I wonder if it is really he?"
"If it is the same one, we'll soon find out!" declared Jimmie.
Then clearing his throat the lad called out brazenly:
"Well, Old Horse, how's Panama?"
Accustomed as he evidently was to surprises of all sorts, the
suddenness of this question startled the man under discussion. He gave
a quick start and glanced keenly at the lad. A flush overspread his
face.
"The Nymph made a quick voyage, didn't she?" continued Jimmie in an
aggravating tone. "I didn't think she could do it!"
Evidently recovering himself with an effort the man did not deign a
reply to the lad's remarks. Instead, he directed his conversation to
the officer, evidently endeavoring to convince that functionary of
something. Apparently he was having a hard time doing so.
At length the officer spoke again to the boys, this time using rather
imperfect English. He smiled pleasantly as he said:
"Your pardon, gentlemen, but I shall ask you to excuse my English. I am
an officer of the French army and shall have to ask you to show your
passports and explain your presence here."
"Your English seems to be all right," answered Ned, speaking slowly and
in a low tone. "We are citizens of the United States and are here on a
pleasure trip. Our passports will convince you. Will you be pleased to
examine them?" he continued, drawing forth a document from his inner
pocket. The other boys followed his example.
In a manner that impressed the boys very favorably the officer examined
the papers, comparing the descriptions given therein with the lads
standing before him. Evidently he was satisfied. Turning to his
companion the officer spoke a few words in French, whereat the other
turned and made for the monoplane. As he departed the officer said:
"I am sorry to make you trouble, but I have a report that you are
German spies. I shall have to place you under guard for a short time
while I go for assistance and orders. You will not object?"
"Certainly not!" replied Ned pleasantly. "We will do everything we
can to help you to establish our identity. But I wish to ask," he
continued, "that you do not let that other fellow get away."
"Why not?" asked the officer in surprise.
"Because we suspect him of having committed a crime in America and it
is our purpose to arrest him and have him extradited!"
A look of astonishment came over the officer's face.
"But he gave me the information concerning you!" he protested.
"Ah, ha! Just as I thought!" declared Jimmie with some heat.
"However," continued the officer, "I shall make sure he remains until
my return. I shall leave him on guard!"
"Good night!" wailed Jimmie. "The Rat! That's the limit!"
Evidently pleased at his solution of a difficult problem the officer
turned to his companion, who came hurrying back from his trip to the
monoplane. Addressing him rapidly in French, the officer evidently
outlined his plan, for the boys saw a crafty look of satisfaction
appear on the repulsive face. He eyed the boys with a disgusting leer.
"I shall be compelled to search you, gentlemen!" announced the officer,
stepping forward. "One at a time, please!"
Rapidly he felt the pockets of the lads, but discovered nothing.
"Now, if you please, will you not step into the stable so convenient?"
he asked pleasantly as if inviting the boys to lunch. "I shall leave
the gentleman on guard armed with my pistol and shall return with my
superior officer as quickly as I can. Thank you," he added as the boys
stepped toward the stable in obedience to his request.
Adjusting a big bar across the door, their captor called out:
"Await me with patience. I shall not be gone long."
"Here's hoping he falls and breaks his neck!" growled Jimmie, kicking a
post. "What a rotten jail this is, anyhow!"
"Wonder what's the idea, anyway?" mused Jack. "This Rat chap seemed to
have the officer fellow hypnotized!"
"Oh, it's just the Continental idea of policing a place, I suppose,"
Ned answered with an attempt at cheerfulness. "He'll return soon with a
squad and they'll take us to some place for examination."
"And I suppose The Rat will be on his way by that time!" protested
Harry with an injured air. "Or maybe he'll shoot us up a little first.
He's got a gun that officer gave him!"
"If he goes doing any stunts like that," Jimmie flashed, "I'll show him
two can play at the same game! I've got my automatic!"
"Where did you have it?" asked Ned incredulously.
"In my breast pocket holster," replied Jimmie. "The brainy officer just
punched my hip pocket and forgot that I had this slung around my neck.
He's a bright chap, that fellow!"
"Wonder what's the chances of getting out of this place," Jack
ventured. "This window looks too small for us to climb through."
"Maybe we could get out through the roof!" Ned suggested.
"I don't believe it," Jack replied thoughtfully. "That roof is good,
old-fashioned thatch put on to stay and we couldn't burst through
unless we had a hole made in it to start with!"
"Let Jimmie pretend he's hungry and burrow out below the walls,"
laughed Harry. "Set a full meal outside the place and I'll wager Jimmie
would be out of this prison inside of five minutes!"
"I'm going to endeavor to get the ear of our pleasant looking jailer!"
Jimmie announced suddenly. "I have an idea that his beautiful white
soul might by some chance be sullied to the tune of a bribe!"
"Don't do it!" advised Ned. "He's not worth wasting time on!"
"But we've got to get out of this hole some way!" protested Jimmie
impatiently. "Do we sit around here all night?"
"It isn't night yet by a long ways!" argued Harry. "Keep your temper,
Jimmie; we're coming out all right! We're not down yet!"
"I'd like to know what you call it!" Jimmie answered, somewhat
aggrieved because his plan was not accepted. "They've got us fast!"
"Listen!" commanded Ned, holding up a warning hand. "What's that?"
"That," cried Jimmie excitedly, "is Monseer Le Officaire on hees
r-r-return. He brings wiz heem zee whole French ar-r-my!"
"Not much!" declared Harry at the window. "It doesn't sound like his
engine! If this stack of fodder wasn't in the way I could see!"
"Ask The Rat to remove the stack!" suggested Jimmie. "Let me look!"
Although the boys did their best to catch a glimpse from the window
of the approaching motor they found it impossible. However, the noise
grew more distinct and presently the droning of the motor sounded
nearly overhead. As Harry had said, the reports of the exhaust had a
sound unlike those from the monoplane. Evidently a third machine was
approaching the place where the boys were held prisoners.
"Let's break out!" protested Jimmie. "This is fierce!"
"Wait a minute!" cautioned Ned. "We'll know soon enough!"
"Anyhow, he's got a hot box!" declared Jimmie. "I can smell smoke and
he has landed close by. He's been running pretty fast!"
"You've got a great nose on you, Jimmie!" declared Jack, laughing. "If
everything you smell was true, what would we do?"
"I smelled your hot box out on Long Island!" Jimmie returned tartly.
"Besides," he added, "my nose is as good as the rest of 'em!"
"Nothing the matter with your nose," maintained Jack, "only it's
stubbed and freckled and wrinkles when you lose your temper!"
"Yes," agreed Jimmie with a laugh, "and it's got a perfectly good
smeller inside! That's more than some folks can say!"
"Wonder what our friend The Rat is doing just about now?" put in Harry.
"We haven't heard from him for quite a few minutes."
"Call to him and ask him for a drink of water!"
"Maybe he wouldn't pay any attention," protested Harry.
"I'll shoot through the door, then! That'll fetch him!"
"Jimmie, you're reckless!" laughed Ned, knowing full well that Jimmie
would not consider such a dangerous experiment. "Perhaps we'll find out
in a short time just what is going on."
"Yes, I think so!" agreed Jimmie. "I can smell that hot box again! It
is getting stronger! I'll bet he's got two hot boxes!"
At this a general laugh went up. The boys found it impossible to resist
Jimmie's droll humor in trying moments. Many times had the lad held
courage in their hearts by his comments on trivialities.
Directly the boys heard the loud clamor of an engine which evidently
belonged to the aircraft that had so recently approached.
"Now, what's he up to?" queried Harry, trying vainly to look from the
one small window. "Sounds as if he were starting away!"
"That's what he's doing!" replied Jack. "Cooled his hot box!"
"He did not!" protested Jimmie vigorously. "I smell it yet!"
"That doesn't smell like burning grease!" protested Ned as he sniffed
the air. "It smells more like hay or straw burning!"
"Listen!" commanded Harry, raising a hand for attention.
All distinctly heard a crackling noise just outside the barn.
"Boys, this barn's on fire!" shouted Jimmie.