GOOD SAMARITANS.
"Well done, Allan!" exclaimed Giraffe as the third boy successfully
clutched the aviator, after they had managed between them to swing him
in.
Thad now gave instructions just how to work the branches free, one by
one.
"Keep a good hold on him everybody," he said, and was also pleased to
note that the aeroplane pilot had himself taken a desperate clutch upon
a small limb, as though meaning to be of what little assistance he
could.
Step by step they accomplished it, and before long were commencing to
descend the tree. The man proved to be full of grit, as was to be
expected of one who continually took his life in his hands in making
those daring aerial flights, thousands of feet above the earth, and over
hostile lines at that, where he would be a target for dozens of
exploding shrapnel bombs.
Bumpus down below grew more and more excited the closer they came. He
had braced himself like a gladiator, as though he meant to try and catch
the man if by any mischance he slipped from their grasp and fell, and
Bumpus would have been foolish enough to offer himself as a buffer, had
any such accident happened.
But there was, fortunately, no slip, and presently they lowered the man
into his waiting arms, so that after all Bumpus was able to do a small
share in the rescue.
Apparently the poor fellow was greatly weakened by his recent terrible
experience. To hang there the livelong night, swaying with the branches,
and in constant danger of dropping to his death, must have been a severe
shock to his nervous system. And then besides he had lost much blood,
and that would weaken him in itself, even without the lingering peril.
He sank to the ground, but at the same time looked inquiringly at them,
as though to question whether they were capable of helping him further.
"Tell him, Giraffe, if you can," said Thad, "that as Boy Scouts, over in
America, we have learned how to care for all ordinary wounds, and that
we mean to do what is possible for his arm."
"It's lucky, Thad," said Bumpus, "that you always insisted on carrying
that little roll of linen along with you, and some healing salve. I own
up there have been times when I thought you were foolish to load
yourself down that way, but I see how valuable it can come in."
"Some people think it folly to insure their houses," said Thad, "but
when the fire comes along they understand what a comfort it is to those
who get the cash to rebuild. I carry this stuff because one of us might
get hurt when away from a doctor or surgeon. And I'm willing to use it
on the first fellow we've run across who needs it."
Meanwhile Giraffe was again talking with the pilot. The man nodded his
head eagerly when he heard what the tall boy said. Perhaps he knew what
German Boy Scouts were always taught to do in emergencies, but was in
doubt with regard to their American cousins, for Giraffe had of course
informed him before then how they came from over the sea, and were only
pilgrims in Belgium at the time.
It was deemed advisable to help the man down to the little stream that
Thad had noticed close by. Here they commenced to get his leather coat
off. It was no easy task, and Bumpus turned pale when he saw what a mess
his arm was in, through lack of attention for so many hours.
Giraffe had been dispatched over to the car and returned with a little
tin bucket they happened to possess. Allan meanwhile had started a small
fire, and over this the tin utensil, after being filled with water, was
placed.
When the liquid was heated enough Thad started to wash the man's arm.
Gradually the nature of the wound was disclosed. After all it was not so
very serious, when that dried blood had been cleansed from his arm. Some
missile from the bursting shrapnel bomb had cut through the muscles, but
it would soon heal, if no serious consequences followed his long
exposure.
Thad used his liniment and bound the arm up as carefully as any
experienced Red Cross surgeon could have done under similar conditions.
The man looked very grateful. That could be seen in his manner, and the
pleased way in which he followed all of Thad's operations with his eyes.
Still, there was an expression of doubt on his face now and then, and
Thad could give a pretty good guess what it meant. Undoubtedly the
German air pilot had begun to wonder just what his status was going to
be, now that he had been rescued from his perilous position in that high
treetop, and his wound so splendidly dressed. Would he have to consider
himself a prisoner of war? These boys in khaki who said they came from
America,--were they so much in sympathy with the Allies that they would
consider it their duty to hand him over to the Belgians?
He must have put the question to Giraffe when he talked so fast, for
that worthy after having him repeat it more slowly shook his head, and
turning to Thad remarked:
"What d'ye think, Thad, the poor chap is wondering whether he's a
prisoner of war or not?"
"Do you mean he thinks we want to consider him our prisoner?" asked the
other. "Just let him know that we're as neutral as we can be, Giraffe.
While we don't like this thing of the big German army invading the
country of the poor Belgians, and think it all wrong, still we're not
taking any side. So far as we're concerned he is as free as the air."
When Giraffe told this to the eagerly listening air pilot he seemed to
be very much gratified.
"He says he has good friends not a great ways off," reported Giraffe,
after some more talk with the wounded aviator, "and thinks he could
manage to reach them, if only he can hide somewhere till dark settles
down."
"That's all right!" Thad declared, "and so far as we're concerned we
hope he may sooner or later manage to get back inside the German lines.
He's a brave man, and we're only too glad to have been of service to
him."
"Thad," continues Giraffe, "he says he wants to write something down if
you've got a pencil and paper handy. I think he means to fix it so that
in case we run across some of his people they'll be good to us. It's the
only way he knows to show how grateful he feels."
"I don't know but what it might be a good idea, although we hope we
won't come across any of those German raiders," Thad remarked, as he
searched his pockets, and found the needed articles.
The man wrote with some difficulty, for his hand was stiff, but after he
had completed his task Giraffe said he could read it all right.
"He's gone and told how he happened to land in a tree top, and would
have died there only for us getting him down," explained Giraffe; "and
then he goes on to tell how we bound up his wounds, and did everything
for him we could; so that he asks any German officer who reads this to
be kind to us for his sake. I reckon now that the name he's signed is
well known among German airmen; seems to me I've heard it, or seen it in
print."
The air pilot had gotten out his pipe, and was actually enjoying a
smoke. Doubtless, being addicted to the weed he would have suffered less
during the long night could he have had the satisfaction of an
occasional puff.
Allan looked at him curiously, while Giraffe was filled with admiration.
"These air pilots have to be pretty cool customers, it strikes me," he
remarked, as they prepared to say good-bye to the man, who evidently did
not think it wise on his part to go near the road, lest he be seen and
taken prisoner.
"They certainly do," said Thad, "because there isn't a second when
they're up in the air that they're not in deadly danger. A man may
stumble on land; he may have an accident when on the water, but he's got
a fair chance to save himself. With them a collapse means being snuffed
out of existence."
"Whew! excuse me from being an aviator!" declared Bumpus, so fervently
that Giraffe turned and looked him over from head to foot, to remark
caustically:
"No danger of that happening, Bumpus. They'd have to build a Zeppelin to
accommodate you."
"Oh! I'm not thinking seriously of trying it, Giraffe," said the other,
sweetly. "I guess I know my shortcomings as well as any one could. I
don't expect to fly as long as I stay in this world. There may be a
time--but never mind about that. Our friend wants to shake hands with
you, Thad. He knows what a heap you've done for him, and I guess he'll
have a right good opinion of American Boy Scouts after this."
The rescued German aviator shook hands not only with Thad but each one
of them in turn, and he said something in his own language which Giraffe
later on told them was a warm expression of his heartfelt gratitude.
As the four lads started toward the road where they had left the
stranded car he was standing there and waving his uninjured hand after
them. When, however, they arrived at the mound and looked back once more
he had disappeared.
Some people were coming along the road, and possibly the man may have
discovered them before the boys did, seeking a place of refuge in order
that they might not make out that he was a German, and so carry the news
to some Belgian regiment quartered nearby.
Thad started in to work at the engine as though this thing of being
called off to save the life of a birdman was a mere nothing at all, just
coming along in the course of his ordinary business.
Bumpus installed himself in his seat and watched him work. That was a
favorite occupation with Bumpus, for he did enjoy seeing some one else
do things about as well as any boy that ever lived.
"Think he'll get clear of his enemies, Thad?" he remarked, showing that
all the while his thoughts were connected with the air pilot whom they
had just rescued.
"He seemed to feel pretty sure of it," the other replied, "though of
course he'd have to avoid all the people living around this section, for
they'd turn on him if they guessed he was a German. The Belgians are
pretty furious over their country being overrun with the Kaiser's
troops. I've even seen old peasants handling guns as if they meant to
fight for their homes, a very foolish thing for them to do, because it
would only enrage the invaders, and end with a massacre."
"You act as if you'd remedied the break in the engine, Thad, seeing that
you're putting up your tools, and wiping your hands off," remarked
Giraffe.
"I've got it fixed," Thad informed him, without any great show of
enthusiasm; "but remember I'm not promising how long it's going to
stand. There's always a toss-up with a machine of this kind as to what
part will break down next."
"Tell me about that, will you?" growled Giraffe, in disgust. "I'd like
to kick the old box into the river only that it does save us some
walking. It's a lottery any way you can fix it."
"Get aboard everybody, and let's see how she cranks," suggested Thad.
As usual it took several urgent efforts before the engine decided to
heed the call to duty.
"There, she sings like a bird!" cried Bumpus as the loud whirr announced
that once again their motor was in working order.
So they started off.
"One thing sure," remarked Giraffe, looking back toward the place where
presently they could just glimpse the top of the tall tree where they
had found such queer fruit growing, "that was a remarkable little
adventure, and none of us are likely to forget it in a hurry either."
"I know for one I won't!" declared Bumpus; "and every time I look at
this bolt that I took from the broken Taube aeroplane I'll think of how
you fellows climbed right up to the top of that tree and brought the
birdman down safe to the ground, and how I stood there to receive him.
Yes, it's marked with a white stone in my memory, and I can just imagine
how Smithy, Step Hen, Davy Jones and Bob White'll stare when they hear
the story of the wrecked aeroplane man!"