The Rat Repulsed.
Straight toward the earth, like a hawk darting for its prey, fell the
monoplane, carrying the wounded pilot and The Rat.
In fancy the boys pictured the terrible scene soon to be witnessed at
the spot where the craft should fall with its human freight. Jimmie,
horrified to think that his act should have caused the loss of two
men's lives, turned to replace the rifle, anxious to get the weapon
with which the attack had been repulsed out of his grasp.
Even the General, experienced to scenes of unusual gruesomeness as he
was, turned his head aside, not caring to witness the end.
All were startled to activity and attention by Harry's shout.
"Look, look!" cried the lad, who had followed with the glasses the
descent of their enemy. "Look, he's made it! Oh, I'm glad!"
"What?" Ned asked, his attention having been directed toward bringing
the Grey Eagle to a position near the expected event.
"The Rat must have succeeded in getting control of the craft just in
time," explained Harry. "Just as I thought it would plunge to the earth
the forward rudders caught the air, and instead of diving head first
into the ground, the machine took a sudden swoop and skimmed away as
nicely as you please! That was simply wonderful!"
Sighs of relief escaped the lads involuntarily as this news was
announced. Much as The Rat deserved punishment for his misdeeds, none
of the boys cared to be directly responsible for his sudden demise in
such a horrible form. They preferred turning him over to the proper
authorities where he might be properly dealt with.
"I guess he's going to have his hands full now," suggested Ned
musingly. "Possibly we'd better get out of here as quickly as we can.
The General will want to arrive at his destination without delay."
"Sure enough!" Jimmie asserted. "Where will you go, General?"
"My intended destination," replied the General, "is an aviation center
not far from here in the direction of Lille. There many aeroplanes
are being received from the factories for testing, and used in the
instruction of pilots for military purposes. If you will be kind enough
to give me passage to that point, I shall be very grateful."
"Certainly we will," quickly responded Ned. "Can you give me the
directions?" he continued. "We will make up some lost time."
"I think if you steer about northeast or northeast by north," suggested
the General, "we shall soon see the place."
"Sorry, sir," apologized Ned, "but the chap in the other machine
dropped some darts a few minutes ago and wrecked our compass. I can
steer only approximately on any course. Would you recognize landmarks?"
"Possibly," rejoined the General. "However, it is now about seven
o'clock. The sun, there, is about east by south, so we can get a course
from that. If you steer for a hill or group of trees until nearly above
them, and then select some other prominent point in the landscape and
steer for that, we shall shortly arrive close enough to the destination
so that we can see some of the numerous aviators in their practice
work."
"That's a good idea!" Ned acknowledged. "I shall do that, and shall
hurry along a little. Possibly we may shake off The Rat."
Never had the boys felt the sense of pride in their aeroplane that they
did that day. The engine, designed by Harry and his chums, proved to
be all that they had expected. Running with muffler closed, Ned sent
the plane along at a terrific pace. Above the whistling of the wind the
hum of the motor was not distinguishable, and conversation could be
carried on with comparative ease. Without a tremor the great machine
covered mile after mile with a grace and speed that excited the frank
admiration of their two guests. It was a ride to be remembered.
"We need several machines like this!" exclaimed General Joffre, lost in
wonderment at the behavior of the craft. "Will you tell me what make it
is? The design is one not familiar to me."
"It is a design familiar to nobody," Ned smiled, "except we four boys.
It is a machine constructed by us from our own designs."
"I am astonished!" confessed the General. "It is wonderful to observe
how easily it handles and how rapid its movements. Will you tell me
what make of engine you are using?"
"It is an engine designed specially for us by McGraw, Bosworth, Stevens
and Nestor, a United States concern!" laughed Ned. "You see," he went
on, "when the plane had been thought of, we believed we needed an
engine suitable for a craft of so high a character. We couldn't find
what we wanted in any store, nor was it manufactured. We just had to
make plans and have it built in the automobile factory belonging to
Harry's father. They did a pretty good job for us, too!"
To this statement the General heartily assented, expressing freely his
admiration for the entire craft and its appointments.
"Unless I am mistaken," presently declared the General, who had been
dividing his attention between admiration of the Grey Eagle and the
landscape, "we are approaching the vicinity of the place I mentioned.
That range of hills ahead should be the last before we reach the plain
where the aviation instructors are at work."
"Hurrah!" shouted Jimmie. "Now we'll see some real flying! I've always
wanted to see the French aviators. Maybe I can get a few pointers by
watching them. I understand they're among the very best."
"Yes," admitted the General, "I can honestly say that we have some very
skillful and daring men in the aviation corps. You may remember it was
a Frenchman who first succeeded in crossing the English channel in an
aircraft. Their exploits are many and of noble character."
"It's funny how The Rat got a French chauffeur to help him out!" mused
Jimmie. "I thought the Frenchmen as a rule were more honest."
"Possibly misrepresentations were made," suggested Ned. "You know The
Rat wouldn't be above lying a little!"
"That's so," assented Jimmie. "By the way," he added, "where did The
Rat go? We left in such a hurry I never noticed."
"He made a landing," Harry answered. "I saw him come easily to earth,
and then I lost sight of him as we put on speed. We've lost him!"
"Well, I certainly hope so!" emphatically declared Jimmie. "The next
time we see him I hope it will be through a prison grating!"
"You will probably not have the opportunity of seeing your enemy for
some little time," commented their guest. "He is no doubt by this time
well on his way towards Flanders!"
"Flanders?" mused Jimmie. "I don't recall any such town as that. I'm
not very well posted on the geography of France, though."
"Flanders is a country, not a town," kindly corrected the General. "It
is a name used to designate the country called Belgium."
"Oh, I know where that is!" declared Jimmie at once. "That is between
France and Germany, isn't it? They stopped the Germans!"
"Yes," sadly replied his informant, "they checked the German advance,
but at fearful cost to themselves. It was done in an endeavor to
protect their neutrality. The first encounter occurred at Liege."
"Another case of demanding peace, even at the expense of a fight!" put
in Jack. "That's Jimmie's creed!" he added.
"Why do they call the country 'Flanders'?" asked Jimmie.
"'Flanders,'" replied the other, "is a name derived from an old
nickname or appellation for the people who inhabited that section.
For a long time the people who lived there were known as 'Fleed-men,'
or men who had escaped from other countries. The name gradually was
turned into the present form of 'Flemish,' and the country known as
"Flanders'."
"Then the people are made up of contributions from other nations?"
inquired Jimmie, very much interested. "They were all mixed up?"
"Yes," was the answer, "but many, many years have passed, and gradually
there has grown up a distinct nation. Of course, the country, because
of its peculiar position, has long been the scene of international
fighting. It is said that Caesar and his legions had battle there with
the original inhabitants, called the Nervii. Many a battle has been
fought at different times on Flemish territory."
"Isn't the battleground of Waterloo where Napoleon met defeat, located
in Flanders?" asked Ned, recalling his history.
"It is," replied their guest, "and also other famous battlegrounds. For
many years Flanders has been the scene of much warfare."
"Do they talk English there?" questioned Jimmie eagerly.
"The people speak French, German or Flemish in different sections,"
was the answer. "English is not commonly used. The people cling
tenaciously to their language, customs and superstitions. It is in
that section," continued their informant, "where so many fairy tales
originated. The inhabitants largely hold firm faith in the existence
and activities of sprites, witches, fairies and hobgoblins of all
sorts. With their other primitive ideas, they also hold to the cardinal
virtues of honesty, sobriety and industry. Nowhere, except possibly in
Holland, will you find a more industrious and worthy class of people."
"It seems too bad to have good folks like those shot up by the Germans,
just because they wanted to go across the country!" protested Jimmie.
"Couldn't Germany have gone around some other way?"
A faint smile greeted this characteristic remark.
"Possibly," agreed the other, "but it seems the more direct route was
chosen. It is regrettable, of course, but, for that matter, the whole
war is regrettable. It brings good to no one."
"I agree with you!" quickly responded the boy. "It's no good!"
"Sail--Ho!" cried Harry, who had been industriously using the
binoculars while listening to the conversation. "I see an aeroplane!"
"Where away?" asked Ned, scanning the horizon eagerly.
"Almost dead ahead," replied Harry. "Just a little to the left and
above that hill. It is just above the trees."
"I see it!" declared Ned. "I can't make out what it is like, though. It
looks something like a biplane, but I'm not sure."
"That's what it is!" asserted Harry. "You've got good eyes!"
"Maybe it's some fellow from the aviation camp out for a trial run or
else breaking in a new pilot," suggested Jimmie.
"If that's the case," Jack put in, "we are near the place. I'm glad of
that! I'm interested in the idea of seeing the French craft."
"Keep your eyes open, then," advised Harry. "It looks as if we were
going to cross the hill in a minute, and then we'll know!"
"I see them!" shouted Jack in a short time. "I see a lot of them!
Oh-h-h!" exclaimed the boy excitedly, "there must be fifty machines,
and all in the air at once! It looks like a beehive!"
"Just see those hangars!" was Ned's excited comment. "There must be
nearly a hundred of them!" he continued in an awed tone.
"Not quite a hundred," laughed the General, "but there are quite a
number. More machines are arriving daily, while others are either
broken in practice or are sent away for duty at the front."
Admiringly the boys gazed at the inspiring spectacle of so great a
number of aeroplanes in the air at one time. Their interest knew no
bounds. Here was an opportunity for gaining much information.
All too soon was the Grey Eagle in the vicinity of the camp. Its coming
was detected by some of the air scouts almost as quickly as the camp
had been located by the boys. Several at once advanced and hovered
near, in an effort to learn the identity of the visitor.
Proceeding directly to a spot indicated by the General, Ned brought the
machine gracefully and easily to the ground. A group of aviators and
officers quickly surrounded them and assisted the passengers to alight.
Recognizing the General, they set up a hearty cheer.
Turning to an officer in his immediate vicinity, the General spent
several minutes in animated conversation. Apparently he was questioning
that individual closely concerning important matters.
At length he turned to the boys with a smile on his face.
"You may rest easy on one score, at least," he said. "Your friend, The
Rat, made his way into Flanders about half an hour ago!"
"How do you know?" asked Jimmie incredulously.