A CAPTURE FROM THE SKIES
Jack went off to see what he could discover, and Harry, left behind with
Dick, racked his brain for some means of blocking the plan he was so sure
the Germans had made. He was furious at Graves, who had discredited him
with Colonel Throckmorton, as he believed. He minded the personal
unpleasantness involved far less than the thought that his usefulness was
blocked, for he felt that no information he might bring would be received
now.
As he looked around it seemed incredible that such things as he was trying
to prevent could even be imagined. After the early rain, the day had
cleared up warm and lovely, and it was now that most perfect of things, a
beautiful summer day in England. The little road they had taken was a sort
of blind alley. It had brought them to a meadow, whence the hay had already
been cut. At the far side of this ran a little brook, and all about them
were trees. Except for the calls of birds, and the ceaseless hum of
insects, there was no sound to break the stillness. It was a scene of
peaceful beauty that could not be surpassed anywhere in the world. And yet,
only a few miles away, at the most, were men who were planning deliberately
to bring death and destruction upon helpless enemies--to rain down death
from the skies.
By very contrast to the idyllic peace of all about them, the terrors of war
seemed more dreadful. That men who went to war should be killed and
wounded, bad though it was, still seemed legitimate. But this driving home
of an attack upon a city all unprepared, upon the many non-combatants who
would be bound to suffer, was another and more dreadful thing. Harry could
understand that it was war, that it was permissible to do what these
Germans planned. And yet--
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden change in the quality of the
noisy silence that the insects made. Just before he noticed it, half a
dozen bees had been humming near him. Now he heard something that sounded
like the humming of a far vaster bee. Suddenly it stopped, and, as it did,
he looked up, his eyes as well as Dick's being drawn upward at the same
moment. And they saw, high above them, an aeroplane with dun colored wings.
Its engine had stopped and it was descending now in a beautiful series of
volplaning curves.
"Out of essence--he's got to come down," said Harry, appraisingly, to Dick.
"He'll manage it all right, too. He knows his business through and through,
that chap."
"I wonder where he'll land," speculated Dick.
"He's got to pick an open space, of course," said Harry. "And there aren't
so many of them around here. By Jove!"
"Look! He's certainly coming down fast!" exclaimed Dick.
"Yes--and, I say, I think he's heading for this meadow! Come on--start that
motor, Dick!"
"Why? Don't you want him to see us?"
"I don't mind him seeing us--I don't want him to see the car," explained
Harry. "We'll run it around that bend, out of sight from the meadow."
"Why shouldn't he see it?"
"Because if he's out of petrol he'll want to take all we've got and we may
not want him to have it. We don't know who he is, yet."
The car was moving as Harry explained. As soon as the meadow was out of
sight Harry stopped the engine and got out of the car.
"He may have seen it as he was coming down--the car, I mean," he said. "But
I doubt it. He's got other things to watch. That meadow for one--and all
his levers and his wheel. Guiding an aeroplane in a coast like that down
the air is no easy job."
"Have you ever been up, Harry?"
"Yes, often. I've never driven one myself, but I believe I could if I had
to. I've watched other people handle them so often that I know just about
everything that has to be done."
"That's an English monoplane. I've seen them ever so often," said Dick.
"It's an army machine, I mean. See its number? It's just coming in sight
of us now. Wouldn't I like to fly her though?"
"I'd like to know what it's doing around here," said Harry. "And it seems
funny to me if an English army aviator has started out without enough
petrol in his tank to see him through any flight he might be making. And
wouldn't he have headed for one of his supply stations as soon as he found
he was running short, instead of coming down in country like this?"
Dick stared at him.
"Do you think it's another spy?" he asked.
"I don't think anything about it yet, Dick. But I'm not going to be caught
napping. That's a Bleriot--and the British army flying corps uses Bleriots.
But anyone with the money can buy one and make it look like an English army
'plane. Remember that."
There was no mistake about that monoplane when it was once down. Its pilot
was German; he was unmistakably so. He had been flying very high and when
he landed he was still stiff from cold.
"Petrol!" he cried eagerly, as he saw the two boys. "Where can I get
petrol? Quick! Answer me!"
Harry shot a quick glance at Dick.
"Come on," he said, beneath his breath. "We've got to get him and tie him
up."
The aviator, cramped and stiffened as he was by the intense cold that
prevails in the high levels where he had been flying, was no match for
them. As they sprang at him his face took on the most ludicrous appearance
of utter surprise. Had he suspected that they would attack him he might
have drawn a pistol. As it was, he was helpless before the two boys, both
in the pink of condition and determined to capture him. He made a struggle,
but in two minutes he was lying roped, tied, and utterly helpless. He was
not silent; he breathed the most fearful threats as to what would happen to
them. But neither boy paid any attention to him.
"We've got to get him to the car," said Harry. "Can we drag him?"
"Yes. But if we loosened his feet a little, he could walk," suggested Dick.
"That would be ever so much easier for him, and for us, too. I should hate
to be dragged. Let's make him walk."
"Right--and a good idea!" said Harry. He loosened the ropes about the
aviator's feet, and helped him to stand.
"March!" he said. "Don't try to get away--I've got a leading rope, you
see."
He did have a loose end of rope, left over from a knot, and with this he
proceeded to lead the enraged German to the automobile. It looked for all
the world as if he were leading a dog, and for a moment Dick doubled up in
helpless laughter. The whole episode had its comic side, but it was
serious, too.
"Now we've got to draw off the gasoline in the tank in this bucket," said
Harry. The German had been bestowed in the tonneau, and made as comfortable
as possible with rugs and cushions. His feet were securely tied again, and
there was no chance for him to escape.
"What are you going to do?" asked Dick. "Are you going to try to fly in
that machine?"
"I don't know, yet. But I'm going to have it ready, so that I can if I
need to," said Harry. "That Bleriot may be the saving of us yet, Dick.
There's no telling what we shall have to do."
Even as he spoke Harry was making new plans, rendered possible by this gift
from the skies. He was beginning, at last, to see a way to circumvent the
Germans. What he had in mind was risky, certainly, and might prove perilous
in the extreme. But he did not let that aspect of the situation worry him.
His one concern was to foil the terrible plan that the Germans had made,
and he was willing to run any risk that would help him to do so.
"That Zeppelin is coming here to Bray Park--it's going to land here," said
Harry. "And if it ever gets away from here there will be no way of stopping
it from doing all the damage they have planned, or most of it. Thanks to
Graves, we wouldn't be believed if we told what we knew--we'd probably just
be put in the guard house. So we've got to try to stop it ourselves."
They had reached the Bleriot by that time. Harry filled the tank, and
looked at the motor. Then he sat in the driver's seat and practiced with
the levers, until he decided that he understood them thoroughly. And, as he
did this, he made his decision.
"I'm going into Bray Park to-night," he said. "This is the only way to get
in."
"And I'm going with you," announced Dick.