A Journey With Joffre.
"They'll go right into that wrecked bridge!" gasped Jack, with horror.
"Can't we head 'em off? Swing around, Jimmie, and flag 'em!"
"Sure," urged Harry excitedly. "Hurry! Hurry!"
Jimmie was already tugging desperately at the levers. He brought
the Grey Eagle about so sharply that the machine careened to a most
alarming angle, threatening to execute another upside down movement.
By throwing his weight sharply against the lever controlling the vanes,
however, Jimmie avoided the completion of this reverse, and brought the
machine again to its normal position. Heading back over the course they
had so recently traveled, he brought the machine low down and skimmed
along at a swift pace only a short distance above the track.
In plain view now, the onrushing train rushed madly along with its
burden. Plainly the engine crew were doing their utmost to cover as
much ground in as little time as lay within their power.
An immense cloud of black smoke was vomited from the stack, tossed
upward by the sharp exhaust. It trailed like an ever-growing streamer,
hiding the coaches from the view of our friends.
"How shall we stop them?" questioned Ned sharply. "We haven't a red
flag nor anything with which to signal them."
"Swing 'em down!" suggested Harry eagerly. "They'll stop!"
"I don't know whether the French railroad men understand the signals
used on United States roads or not!" Ned replied. "They're getting
closer and we must do something!" he added.
"Land on the track and they'll stop!" proposed Jack.
"Sure!" put in Jimmie with sarcasm. "After they run over us!"
"What can we do?" Ned cried. "We must stop them!"
"Francois, what signal will these Frenchmen understand?" asked Jimmie.
"Shall we swing 'em down, or have you anything to suggest?"
"Oh, I don't know," cried Francois. "I don't understand the railroad
signals well enough to know what to do."
"I'll tell you what," Jimmie ventured, "I'll swing off to one side,
round to quickly, and run alongside the locomotive. As we draw up
alongside, you call out to the engineer to stop. He'll understand
French. Get your lungs ready for a big whoop, there's lots of noise."
Francois began drawing deep breaths, preparing for the effort.
The Grey Eagle was veered away from the tracks to a distance considered
by Jimmie suitable for his purpose, and again quickly wheeled about.
This time the boys were prepared for the sharp deflection of the
planes, and assisted by throwing their bodies to the outer side of the
turn.
Slightly miscalculating the speed of the onrushing train, Jimmie
brought the Grey Eagle parallel to its course at a point some two
car lengths behind the locomotive. A quick touch of the throttle
soon carried them out of the cloud of smoke and cinders abreast of
the driver, who leaned from his position interestedly watching the
maneuvers of the great aeroplane.
Scarcely a mile separated the group from the wrecked bridge. This
distance was rapidly lessened by the swift iron monster.
"Hurry, now, Francois!" shouted Jimmie, again applying the muffler to
deaden the sound of the Grey Eagle's motors. "Tell him!"
Francois' shouts were plainly heard by the engine driver, but he
evidently mistook them for some friendly greeting, for he smiled and
waved his hand, as if congratulating the boys on their skill.
Ned was frantic. He waved his arms and pointed down the track. Again
the engineer responded with a wave of his hand. Seemingly he thought
the boys were inviting him to a race, and was waving his acceptance.
"You big mud-head!" yelled Jimmie, at the top of his lungs. "Can't you
get anything through that chunk of ivory? Shut her off!"
This sally was, of course, not intelligible to the engine driver, who
could not be expected to understand English. The boy's manner, however,
appeared to convey a meaning different from that of his companions. A
change came over the face of the driver. He glanced down the track.
"Shut her off! Shut her off!" yelled Jimmie, again swinging one hand
in the well-known horizontal sweep known to all railroad men in this
country, indicating "Stop." Again and again Jimmie repeated the sign.
Ned, Harry and Jack, catching the inspiration of Jimmie's energetic
action, joined in making the same signal. This concerted effort on the
part of the boys evidently conveyed to the engine driver the thought
that something was wrong. He looked questioningly at the lads.
"Shut her off!" again yelled Jimmie, desperately shaking his fist at
the driver. "If I ever get hold of you, I'll punch your dome!"
Ned ceased making the stop sign and frantically pointed ahead. He then
moved his hands as if picking something from his left with his right,
in the familiar "Uncouple" movement of railroaders.
As if comprehending the "cut off" or "uncouple" signal, and at the same
time comprehending that something was wrong with the track, the driver
closed the throttle, looking down the line of rails ahead.
What he saw caused him to make desperate efforts to stop the onrushing
monster. His efforts were rewarded by a distinct slackening of speed,
but he was not a moment too soon.
Carried onward by the extreme momentum of its flight, the train crowded
the locomotive forward, until it seemed to the anxious boys as if
it surely must be plunged into the open bridge. Bravely the driver
remained at his post until the locomotive actually dropped from the
spread rails.
Not until his charge had bumped onto the ties and careened drunkenly
to one side did the driver leap for safety. His fall on the ballasted
track came only as the train ground to a standstill.
Again swinging the Grey Eagle in a quick turn, this time more easily
and gracefully made, Jimmie brought the aeroplane to a landing beside
the coaches. Men were dropping from the cars as the boys settled easily
to a position of rest. They came running across the intervening space.
They were in uniform and several carried rifles.
Taking in the entire situation at a glance, an officer stepped forward
to greet the lads. With outstretched hand he greeted Ned, who stood a
trifle in advance of his companions. He spoke in French.
Ned grasped the proffered hand heartily, but shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he stated, "but I cannot understand you."
"Pardon me," the officer hastened to say in English. "I did not notice
that you are not of my country. I wish to thank you for the brave and
honorable deed you have just done."
"Your gratitude is certainly appreciated," Ned answered, "but we
scarcely deserve it. It was partly our fault that the bridge was
wrecked. If we hadn't been over the railroad, the bomb would not have
done that damage. We couldn't do any less than try to stop you."
"Nevertheless, we are all grateful for your act," continued the
officer, "and I must also compliment you on your skill as a pilot. You
handled the aeroplane with exceeding ease and adroitness."
"You'll have to give Jimmie, here, credit for that," Ned replied with a
smile, as he proceeded to introduce his chums.
Protesting his inability to perform any feats out of the ordinary,
Jimmie was dragged blushing to the foreground, where he was made to
listen again to the complimentary remarks concerning his ability as an
aviator.
"But come with me," invited the officer presently. "I wish you to meet
the General. You are fortunate in finding him here at this time."
Making their way through the groups of soldiers gathered about, the
boys arrived at a car much better appointed than the others. Here were
grouped several officers surrounding a sturdily built man of medium
height. His white hair and mustache gave a touch of dignity to the
rounded face, while flashing eyes betokened the vigor that lurked in
his well-knit frame, and indicated one of the secrets of his power with
men. He was no less a person than General Joffre, pride of the French
army.
Approaching to a respectful distance, the boys stood at attention and
gave the Boy Scout salute. This was returned at once by the General,
who used the same salute with dignity and gravity.
A few words spoken by the officer who had conducted the boys from
their machine served to explain who they were.
"I wish to thank you, gentlemen," said the General. "You have, indeed,
averted a catastrophe, and we are very grateful."
"Please do not mention it, sir!" Ned protested. "We felt that we could
not do otherwise than stop your train, if possible."
"But how do you happen to be in this vicinity?"
In a few words, Ned briefly recounted the adventures through which they
had passed but a short time previously. Leaving out many details, he
gave only an outline of the incidents, concluding with:
"And here we are, and this wrecked bridge is the result of The Rat's
latest attempt to put us out of his way."
"A most remarkable recital!" commented the General, after listening
with interest to Ned's story. "You may be sure of our assistance in
capturing this person, if it is at all possible."
"Thank you!" returned Ned heartily. "Now, perhaps, we have done all we
can. I think we shall have to be going."
"Just a moment," protested the General. "Our men have already attached
telegraph instruments to the wires and have, no doubt, reported this
damage to the bridge. Will you not wait a short time until we learn
what measures will be taken to move the train forward?"
To this the boys readily consented, and watched with interest the
rapidity with which the men working the telegraph secured results.
Shortly an orderly approached, saluted, and handed a paper to the
General. Reading the message rapidly, he turned again to the boys.
"It is impossible," he stated with a show of slight impatience in his
voice, "to secure transportation for some hours. Traffic beyond the
bridge is in a congested condition, and a repair train cannot reach us
for some time. The delay, while annoying, is unavoidable. I shall again
thank you, and wish you every success!"
Extending his hand, the General indicated that the interview was at
an end. With hearty handclasps the boys departed for their aeroplane,
leaving the soldiers grouped about the General.
Just as Ned was about to start the engine, Jimmie leaned over and
placed a detaining hand on his arm. Ned glanced quickly at the boy.
"Say, fellows," suggested Jimmie. "If the General is in a hurry to go
somewhere, he can't do better than take a trip with us. What do you say
to inviting him to have a little ride?"
"We can carry him, all right," responded Ned, "but the quarters will be
rather cramped. We haven't room to entertain many visitors."
"If we can stand it, he ought to get along for a while!"
"All right, then, go ask him if you want to," Ned grinned.
In an instant Jimmie was on the ground racing toward the train. Not
many minutes passed before he was seen returning, accompanied by the
General and the officer who had first greeted them.
To the rousing cheers of the soldiers, the Grey Eagle, with its
precious freight, rose above the wreckage of the bridge. Headed to the
northward, the boys and their guests were soon far from the scene.
"Where will you go, General?" asked Ned from the pilot's seat.
"Here comes that monoplane again!" interrupted Harry, who had been
using the binoculars. "He's coming up fast from the eastward!"
"Then he's going to get what's coming to him!" gritted Jimmie,
unlocking a compartment and drawing forth a magazine rifle.
It was true. The monoplane was again darting toward the Grey Eagle, as
if vindictively determined to bring harm to the lads.
As it approached a shot rang out. Jimmie quickly threw his rifle to his
shoulder and replied with shot after shot.
A sharp lurch of the other machine told the boys that one of Jimmie's
missiles had found lodgment in a vital place. Plunging down in a
forward movement the machine appeared to drop straight to earth.
"The Rat is there!" cried Harry, with the glasses in hand. "He's taking
the levers away from the wounded pilot! He can't right the machine!"