A NEW ASSIGNMENT.
When Billy regained his senses he found himself in a clean, enameled
white bed, and was conscious of a black silk sleeve with snowy cuff when
a deft hand tenderly adjusted a bandage that lay damp upon his aching
forehead. These little details were impressive in the way of assurance
to the patient that he had awakened this side of the grave.
"Where's Henri?"
The nurse made no reply to this first question from the bed, except the
mute expression of putting a finger to her lips, enjoining silence.
"I say, nurse, I mustn't be wasting time here; my chum and I have a
flying contract on hand, and this very minute ought to be sticking
around that big building down the street."
Getting more and more impatient, Billy essayed a sitting posture, but
the effort forced a groan. At this the attendant hastened to settle the
boy in comfortable position.
"You must be quiet, monsieur," she softly admonished in French.
"Guess I'll have to be," weakly conceded Billy. "But can't you tell me
whether or not my pal is all right? And--that's so; did the child in the
sleigh come out safe?"
"No one hurt but you," gently assured the woman.
"Bully for so much," rejoiced the boy.
"Surely enough," murmured the attendant.
A portly surgeon entered the room, reached for the wrist of the patient,
and his smiling face indicated that the case looked good to him.
"Out in a week," he announced to the nurse.
Billy did not understand the words, but the manner was satisfactory.
To some whispered inquiry by the nurse, the surgeon nodded his head.
"To-morrow will do," he advised.
With the passing of the surgeon, the nurse told Billy that he might
expect a visit from his comrade in the morning. "You can be sure," she
added, "that it has been no easy task to keep him out."
The patient grinned. Since he had learned that Henri had escaped unhurt,
he had really wondered how they had worked it to keep his chum away from
him.
When the morning brought Henri, the French boy was not alone--and the
rather boisterous greeting between the reunited inseparables was
witnessed by a tall, broad-shouldered man of most distinguished bearing
and a beautiful child with a shower of bright curls over her shoulders.
In the presence of the important visitor the surgeon and the nurse were
all deference, and eager to give information that would interest.
But the tall stranger then had eyes for no other than the boy propped up
among the pillows of the hospital bed.
"My brave lad," he said, leaning over the boy with the bandaged head,
and lifting Billy's hand from the coverlet, "what I might say would
poorly express my gratitude and admiration for your heroic action.
Fredonia, my daughter, would add her tribute of heartfelt thanks to
mine."
The child shyly extended her hand, which Billy touched as he would a
flower.
With an arm over the shoulders of Henri, the tall man amended the
initial address by saying:
"What I most desire now is to have both of you in the service at Odessa,
that I may have opportunity to advance your interests and in some
substantial way emphasize my grateful appreciation of your splendidly
courageous action on behalf of my child."
"But we are already spoken for in Warsaw," intimated Billy.
The man smiled as he quietly remarked:
"Perhaps they may not speak louder than Sergius. Until you have mended,
then, my lad, we will await final decision."
When the surgeon had bowed these interesting visitors to the door, he
briskly returned to the bedside, and put Billy in possession of some
facts regarding the gentleman whose high favor the boys had won.
"A master of money, my lads," declared the doctor, "and allied with the
most powerful elements of the empire, of blood rank most high, and none
the less a prince of finance for all that. He ought to know what is in
the war chest, for he has wonderfully helped to fill it. To Odessa with
Sergius? Thank your lucky stars, lads, for the chance. He has airships
without rest at his command, as well as the other kind."
The surgeon had been told by Henri that aviation was the profession of
both his chum and himself, and so in exploiting the opportunities open
to the boys through their new acquaintance he naturally laid stress on
the aircraft inducement.
In the doorway now appeared Salisky and Marovitch who within the hour
had been apprised of the exact whereabouts of their pilots, and having
also earlier learned of the thrilling scene on the Prospekt, in which
their young friends had been the principal actors.
"Come alive, son, but it is good to see you with your head still on your
shoulders."
The greeting by Salisky, though on the surface of the lighter vein, had
nevertheless an undertone of deep feeling. That the veteran scouts were
greatly attached to these boys was a fact not open to argument.
"You will be wanting somebody soon to drive you home, old top," cried
Billy, evidencing his pleasure at the sight of the hardy observers.
"Two flyers of the Admiralty corps have already been detailed to take us
back, and we start in the morning."
"Nothing slow about the way you are replacing us."
Billy was inclined to be a little piqued at this ready acceptance of new
service on the part of the scouts, though he was well aware that he
would be in no condition to take his turn at the wheel within the
prescribed time limit.
Salisky leaned toward the boy, and said:
"The truth of it is, if you do not already know it, that your next move
is not of our choosing. Your assignment to Warsaw has been cancelled,
and your custody, if it might be called that, has been transferred to
another center of operation."
"The result of a long reach," supplemented Henri.
"Just so," concluded Salisky. "Good-bye, my young friends; luck be it
that some day we may meet again."
The speaker turned away without another word, and Marovitch was equally
brief in his farewell. Both of the scouts, strange to state, were seized
with a joint spell of coughing as they passed out.
"Now, let's have a bit of a confab all by ourselves," invited Billy,
"before the nurse fires you. Tell me what happened after I took the
count in front of those black space-killers?"
"When you started that circus act on the horse's back," narrated Henri,
"I was hanging on by my eyebrows. Then I managed to get a leg inside the
sleigh and had rolled over on the pile of robes; then a sudden stop as
the sleigh bumped into the fallen horses--so sudden that my head cracked
the dashboard. You sure found the combination in the nick of time, with
an open drawbridge less than twenty yards ahead. While about a dozen men
were sitting on the heads of those flopping beasts, who should come
galloping up on a big gray horse but the little girl's father, and they
had a time together, for a minute or two, I tell you. When we picked you
up, limp and bleeding, I prayed like a good fellow that you would open
your eyes and say 'All right, pard.' The prince, duke, or count, I
didn't know which, had you in a carriage in a brace of shakes, and you
have been here ever since, with me hanging around like a lost soul."
"Where was the driver of the runaways all this time? How did they get
away from him?"
Billy was a stickler for details.
"Oh," continued Henri, "all I know about that is hearsay; the rig was in
front of a palace up the way, the little one waiting for her father to
come out. The moujik, or driver, was standing at the horses' heads when
a passing auto blew up a tire. The fellow in front of the wild ones that
you pulled down counted for as much as a piece of paper string. They
left him in the road. That's how we got into it. There's one thing more,
Buddy, believe me--those Sergius horses are not city broke; they're too
nervous for even a joy ride."
The nurse came in on the talk about this time and banished Henri.
A week later, when Billy was himself again, the boys, so long accustomed
to the plain fare, and often no fare, the hardships, the makeshifts, the
discomforts and dangers of military campaigning, began to believe that
they had hitched up with another Monte Cristo. Nothing was too good for
them in the well-ordered train of Sergius.
"If we don't get out of here pretty soon," declared Billy, "we will be
afraid to sit near an open window on account of the draught!"
Here was a pair not built for coddling.
But the days of ease were slipping into the scroll of time. It was not
intended that the flying boys should too long linger in the lap of
luxury. Their patron had another side to his make-up, and that was
adamant and of boundless determination.
The call of the Black Sea was in the air--there was plenty of powder
burning in and about those strange waters, and another belligerent
nation involved, the like of which the young aviators had never before
encountered during their varied experiences in the great war zone.