Jack noticed that the other two aeroplanes had withdrawn as though the
pilots felt satisfied with having hurled the Taube to the ground. That
particular section of country was so rough that they evidently had
no intention of trying to effect a landing. Amos even suggested that
possibly they had not come out of the encounter unscathed, and that the
aviators were glad of a chance to retire from the battle in the air.
“We must see how badly he is hurt, Amos,” said the Western boy, as he
started toward the spot where the venturesome birdman had plunged from
his falling machine into the scrub bushes.
“Yes, I wouldn’t feel right unless we did that,” agreed Amos, who
possessed a tender heart, and had once upon a time subscribed to the
rules governing the conduct of the Boy Scouts of America.
They were quickly on the spot, and looking to the right and the left in
the endeavor to locate the stricken aviator.
“There he is, Jack!” said Amos, suddenly, gripping the arm of his chum
as he spoke. “Down on his hands and knees, too, as if he might be
searching for something he had lost. Shall we go closer and see if he’s
badly hurt? I think we ought to do what little we can for the plucky
chap.”
Evidently this was what Jack had in mind, for he immediately started
forward. The Taube pilot heard them coming and looked up. His face was
streaked with blood and dirt, and altogether he presented a sad picture.
At sight of two boys approaching him instead of grown men garbed in the
khaki of British soldiers, he seemed astonished. If he had intended
to draw a weapon and sell his life dearly he changed his mind, for
now he was holding up both hands. To the ranch boy that was an old
and familiar sign of surrender. He had seen it used on many occasions
during his experience in the West.
“Do you understand English?” was the first thing Jack asked as he and
Amos drew near the wounded airman, still kneeling there.
The other nodded his head in the affirmative. He was eying them
suspiciously, as though he could not understand who and what they were,
for English boys were not supposed to form a part of the army sent
across the Channel.
“I haf knowledge of the language if I cannot speak same much,” he told
them.
“Well, first of all, we’re American boys, not English, you understand.
We’re wanting to look after your wounds, if you care to let us,” Jack
went on to say, at the same time smiling pleasantly.
“Is it to be a prisoner you mean?” demanded the birdman, suspiciously.
“Not as far as we’re concerned,” Jack hastened to assure him. “After
we’ve fixed you up you can go your way for all of us; though you would
do well to hide until night comes along, before trying to make your own
lines. Now, we’re in something of a hurry, so let’s look you over.”
He went about doing so with a business-like air that was convincing.
The wrecked air-pilot may have been loth at first to let mere boys try
to attend to his hurts, but he soon realized his mistake, and submitted
willingly.
There were numerous scratches and small contusions, but these amounted
to little, and, after being washed with some water Jack carried in a
canteen, could be left to time to heal. The worst thing was a fractured
left arm, which must have been very painful, though the man never
uttered a groan when Jack dexterously set the bones and bound it up as
best he could.
“That’s all we can do for you just now,” he told the aviator, after
completing the job. “As one of those other machines might sail over
this way at any minute to see what has become of you, if you’re wise,
you’ll hurry and hide somewhere so they won’t see you.”
“I thank you very much,” said the man, evidently impressed with the
kindness shown by the two American boys.
“Oh, don’t mention it,” remarked Amos, lightly. “We’re supposed to be
friends of all parties to this scrap. I’ve got a German chum at home I
think heaps of, and his name is Herman Lange. Good-bye, and I want to
say you put up a rattling good fight as long as it lasted.”
Perhaps the other did not wholly understand all of Amos’ remarks, but
he knew the boy was saying nice things about his recent performance, so
he smiled, and insisted on shaking hands with them both.
The last they saw of him he was making for a heavy growth of brush
as though intending to profit by the advice given by the long-headed
Western boy, by lying low until the day was spent, when it would be
safe for him to be abroad.
“For one I’m not sorry I helped ease up that pain a bit,” remarked
Amos, as he and Jack walked away, once more heading toward the quarter
where they knew the British column would be found.
“Same here,” echoed the other. “He was a nervy chap, all right. You
noticed that he never let out a single peep when I shoved those broken
bones together, though I warrant you it must have hurt like fun.”
“I saw you pick up something and ram it in your pocket when we were
coming away--must have been worth your trouble, Jack.”
“It was what the poor chap was hunting for, I reckon,” replied the
second boy, as he thrust a hand inside his coat, and brought out a
roughly folded paper.
“Why, would you believe it, he’s been making a regular chart from away
up there in the clouds!” exclaimed Amos, the instant this paper was
unfolded.
“And besides being a bold air-pilot that German must be a regular
topographical engineer if there is such a thing. I never saw a map
made hurriedly but showing everything so plainly. Here’s marks to show
the positions of the British trenches around Ypres, every big gun
marked with a cross, and even the supply stations and the hangars of
the aeroplanes plainly located. Why, with a chart like this, distances
plotted out and all that, German gunners could shell any position they
chose from a distance of eight or ten miles.”
“A valuable map to fall into the hands of the Kaiser’s men, eh, Jack?”
“I should say yes, Amos; and that was why he hated to lose the same
after going to all the trouble he had to make it.”
“Still, it wouldn’t have been just fair for you to have turned it
over to him, because we went as far as we ought in looking after his
wounds,” suggested Amos.
“Well, we’re supposed to be neutral, though favoring the Allies,
because their aims correspond with what Americans believe in--as
little military government as possible. I’m only wondering whether I
had better tear the chart up, or keep it so as to gain favor with the
commander of the forces over yonder.”
“Keep it, Jack; it may open their hearts to us; you never can tell,”
was the way Amos looked at the matter. So, acting on this advice, the
other boy concluded not to destroy the work of the chart-maker of the
skies.
“There’s one of those other monoplanes starting up again,” said Amos,
pointing.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the pilot has been given orders to drop
down and take a look around where the Taube fell,” Jack continued.
“Little we care,” chuckled Amos, “so long as he lets us alone. I
wouldn’t like to have a shower of bombs dropped down on me from
overhead. Then didn’t we hear that the Allies were using some sort of
steel arrow with a sharp point that would go through a German helmet,
and do terrible work? Excuse me from making the acquaintance of any
such contraption at close quarters.”
They pushed along, now and then casting a curious glance upward to
note what the man in the aeroplane might be doing. He had not landed,
but made several swoops downward, evidently trying to see what had
happened to the Taube pilot when his machine had smashed to the ground.
Presently Amos sang out that he could hear horses neighing, and there
were also other signs of their being close upon a body of troops
resting while on the way to the front. Evidently there was some sort of
fairly decent road near by, which the artillery and foot soldiers were
utilizing in order to get closer to the trenches where the British,
flanked by the little Belgian army, held their own against the furious
drives of the desperate Germans.
As they came out from the undergrowth they discovered before them for a
distance of half a mile or more numerous clumps of men in khaki. They
had started fires and were evidently trying to heat up something so as
to take away their hunger, as well as warm themselves up, for the day
was a raw and chilly one.
Jack quickly picked out the officers’ mess. There was no display of
swords, no gaudy trimmings as in the old days when men fought hand to
hand. Bitter experience had shown the British leaders that in these
days of Maxims and sharpshooters the object of the enemy was always
to mark down those in command, so as to leave the brigades without
officers, and render them less dangerous in a charge.
“That’s where we want to head,” he told Amos, as he changed his course
slightly. “Unless I’m away off my base these must be what they call
territorials over in England. They are trained all right, but have yet
to smell their first burnt powder. If you find your brother at all,
it’s going to be among this class of recruits.”
“They see us and are pointing this way,” remarked Amos. “I guess they
wonder who and what we are. I’ve fastened that little American flag to
my hat, Jack; it ought to do the business for us, I should think.”
“Yes, actions speak louder than words they say, and Old Glory generally
carries the respect of all nations. But between you and me, Amos, I
don’t seem to fancy that commanding officer any too well. He looks too
puffed up with a sense of his own importance. Before he’s been in the
trenches three days he’s apt to get a lot of that conceit knocked out
of him, or perhaps be punctured by a German bullet.”
“I hope he’ll wear better than he looks,” muttered Amos, who was
feeling very much the same as his companion did about the appearance of
the stout commanding officer. “There are a whole lot of questions I’d
like to get answered; a man of so much consequence wouldn’t condescend
to accommodate me, I’m afraid.”
They soon arrived at a point where they were met by a detail of
khaki-clad soldiers. To the non-commissioned officer in charge of
these, Jack addressed himself.
“We want to speak with the colonel in charge of the column,” he said,
simply.
“I have orders to bring you before him, so keep going right along,” the
sergeant told him in reply, being apparently a brusque man, and, as
Amos said, “without any frills.”
There were fully a dozen officers about the fire where a hot luncheon
was being prepared. Amos secretly admitted to himself that closer
inspection did not seem to impress him any more favorably with the
colonel. He looked as though he suspected them from the start of being
clever German spies.
“Well, who are you, and what have you been doing here so close to the
trenches?” he asked in a disagreeable and harsh voice, frowning at Jack
and Amos, who, however, succeeded in giving him back look for look,
although trying not to show any signs of impudence, for they knew it
would not profit them any to try and “twist the lion’s tail.”
“We are both American boys, Colonel,” said Jack. “If you can spare a
few minutes of your valuable time we will be only too glad to explain
why we are here.”
Those suspicious eyes looked them both over. Apparently the colonel was
not yet convinced that they were harmless.
“Search them!” he ordered, and the sergeant who had led them to the
spot immediately started to obey.
Of course, as luck would have it, almost the first article he drew
forth and handed over to the waiting colonel was the wonderfully
accurate chart made by the German Taube man; and loud exclamations told
how the British officers appreciated the gravity of the find.