DRAWN FROM THE DEPTHS.
"WELL, Mr. Roque, if you did not get Filimonoff this trip, you struck
mighty close to him, for I'll warrant the man whom Schneider vanquished
was a leader in the Cossack horde."
"And something of a fighter, you might add, Stanislaws," rejoined the
secret agent. "But there's another day, and the kingpin and I may yet
lock horns."
The aviation party was again at Galician headquarters, and the
interesting invalid, Schneider, was already declaring that he was as
good as ever.
Roque had a grouch, chafing because of the delay of the Austrian forces
in getting through to the relief of Przemysl.
"Just think what might be done if we had enough flying machines,
Zeppelins and aëroplanes, to bring over an army corps every week or
so." This idea expressed by the ever-enthusiastic Stanislaws.
"You are not talking airship now, Stanny; it's an air castle you have
in mind."
This pleasantry on the part of Billy turned the laugh on the Austrian
aviator, in which he joined himself.
"There's one thing sure," finally declared Roque, "I know of at least
two airships that are soon to sail over the heads of the Russians who
are now blocking the way to the fortress."
"I just knew he would be pushing something across before long," said
Henri to his chum.
"From the way he looked at us when he spoke, it's safe to believe that
we will be somewhere behind the push."
Billy had a hunch that his job was secure whenever Roque had work above
ground.
Schneider had heard enough to set him at the task of cleaning and
polishing his personal stock of firearms.
The four biplanes returned that very night to the besieged fortress,
from which two of the machines were destined to leave in short order on
a most important and perilous journey.
Our boys had instructions to give the aircraft a thorough going over,
fill the petrol tanks to utmost capacity, and carry all the condensed
foodstuff possible.
"Maybe he is figuring on a chance of a lay-up in the mountains,"
suggested Stanislaws, detailed to assist the younger aviators in the
work of preparation.
"'Maybe' is a good word to use in connection with the moves of the
chief, for you can't prove anything by us."
The present was all that counted with the busy lads, hustling to
complete their immediate assignment.
"Ready and waiting," they soon announced to the chief, who simply
nodded approval, and went on with the work in which he was
engaged--studying and making field maps.
Henri put in the spare time afforded with continuous instruction of
his chum in the German language, Billy having already acquired, by
hard knocks, talking knowledge of French. They were thus occupied one
morning, when Schneider appeared, in war-like array, with brief order.
"Buckle up."
Roque found everything in shipshape for the getaway, and smiled at the
impatience of Schneider, who had been stamping around the hangars since
the first glimpse of daylight.
While the young pilots were drawing to the elbows their fleece-lined
gauntlets, the secret agent was earnestly assuring the commander of
the garrison of his belief that the way would very soon open for the
long-expected relieving force.
"I think I can advise them to good effect if we get through in safety,"
he said, mounting his perch in the biplane, and giving Billy the word
to go.
As the biplanes shot through space, only Roque, the directing power,
had knowledge of their destination, though Schneider inferred that the
finish would be somewhere in the thick of battle.
This inference was not far amiss, for when the aircraft finally
slackened speed, and stood still against the blue vault of heaven,
still as the condor floating above his native mountains, the aviators
looked down upon a thick forest of bayonets, shown on all sides by the
square formation of the Austrian forces, then endeavoring to pierce the
Russian front near Lupkow and thus relieve Przemysl.
"We are in the Carpathians," Schneider advised his flying mate.
The fighting in these mountains had then been continuous and intense
for weeks, the two armies contending desperately for the ridges,
the possession of which would give advantage to the holders. Every
concession of a few yards of the rocky slopes had exacted heavy toll of
lives.
Behind the Austrian lines at Lupkow the aviators made landing,
descending through a sea of smoke, and amid deafening roar of furious
conflict.
Roque had hasty conference with the commanding officers, and outlined
conditions at the great underground fortress, to save which this day's
engagement had been planned.
Schneider and the boys had received orders from their chief to stand by
the aëroplanes, and on no account to leave their posts.
"He evidently does not believe there is much of a show of smashing the
Russian barrier to-day," observed the firebrand, who little relished
the infliction of standing still in the rear while so much powder was
being burned in front.
It was soon apparent, the way the tide of battle was turning, that the
rear of the Austrian position would not be such a lonesome place after
all. Retreat had begun, and immediately Roque emerged from the ruck.
"This isn't our day," was the news he brought; "get under way or you
will get under foot."
It was a stirring scene that spread under the rising biplanes, the
massed formation attacks of the Austrians hurled back again and again
by the sheer weight of the Russians, pouring men forward in seemingly
unending numbers.
"They're thicker than flies in Egypt," growled Schneider, when his
soldierly eye perceived that the Austrians could no longer stand the
pressure of the numbers arrayed against them, and that the day was lost.
The aviators decided to adopt the manner of the eagle and nest high
that night. They found a level on a mountain peak not very far removed
from the clouds.
"You could cut the stillness up here with a knife," asserted Billy, and
his companions agreed that there was a decided difference between the
shell-rent territory from which they had just flown and the awesome
silence of this sublime height.
"It might also be mentioned that the cold on this top could be sawed
into chunks," put in Henri, taking the precaution of covering the motor
tanks with blankets.
Schneider volunteered to skirmish for some material with which to
establish a campfire, while the boys busied themselves in opening some
of the tins enclosing the food supply.
Roque found consolation in keeping alight a long black cigar.
Presently he concluded to follow in the footsteps of the wood hunter,
and hasten the prospect of a cheery blaze by the time night should fall.
With the passing of an hour or more, and no sign of the fuel seekers,
Billy and Henri developed an uneasy streak, rendered more acute by the
drear surroundings and the oppressive lack of all sound.
"We had better do some scouting; I'll go daffy with this waiting
business."
"I'm with you, Billy," joined in Henri, "anything but sitting 'round
here doing nothing."
The boys lost no time in picking their way through the rocks in the
direction taken by their absent companions.
"Let's give them a shout," suggested Billy, himself acting first on the
suggestion.
No answer to the shouters, when they paused at intervals, hoping for
the welcome response.
Stumbling along, careless now of bumps and bruises, the lads so often
raised their voices to high pitch that they were hoarse from the effort.
Rounding a huge boulder that blocked their path, Billy, who was
in the lead, suddenly started back with a cry of alarm, and Henri
instinctively threw his arms about the waist of his chum.
Lucky move, this, for the Bangor boy was in the closest kind of way
connected with a mass of crumbling earth that swept with a slight
rumble into the darksome depths of Uzsok pass.
Henri's strong pull landed both boys on their backs--but on the safe
side of the boulder.
"Narrow shave that, old boy," murmured Billy, raising himself on his
elbow, and reaching for the hand of his chum, "and it's to you that I
owe----"
"No more of that," interrupted Henri, "it's only a rare occasion when
you were not doing something for me. I think we can account now for
the disappearance of Roque and Schneider. It completely unnerves me,
though, to believe that our companions are lost in this abyss."
Billy was on his feet in an instant, alert and resourceful.
"There's a way of finding out whether or not they are down there, and
we will never quit searching as long as there's a speck of hope."
Gingerly skirting the boulder, he found solid ground on the higher
side, to the right of the treacherous spot on which he had so narrowly
escaped a long fall.
Stretched out full length at the verge of the steep descent, Billy
peered into the depths, giving vent to several ear-splitting whoops in
rapid succession.
A faint halloo finally came back from the dim recesses of the pass.
"Glory be!" cried the strenuous hailer, "there is somebody below--and
that somebody is alive!" Through the hollow of his hands Billy shouted
words of encouragement to the unseen owner of the voice answering from
the bush-grown wall of the chasm.
"It's a clear drop of twenty feet, and smooth as a billiard ball before
the growth begins and the rocks shelve out," Billy advised his chum,
the latter to the rear and maintaining a firm grip on the ankles of the
venturesome prober of the pass mystery.
"Oh, for an hour more of daylight," lamented Billy, as dusk began to
envelop the lonely mountain. "Gee! Why didn't I think of it before?"
Imbued with his new idea, he quickly swung around, bounced to his feet,
hauled Henri up by the wrists, and triumphantly demanded:
"What's the matter with flying around there in the machine?"
"But it's getting too dark now to see anything in that hole," objected
Henri.
"Where's your wits, Buddy? What do we carry searchlights for?"
"I sure am a woodenpate," admitted Henri, using a fist to tap his
forehead; "let's go to the biplane as fast as our legs will carry us."
The boys raced like mad for camp.
With every light available from both machines set in one of the
biplanes, fore and aft, the young aviators sailed through the shadows,
got their bearings from the big rock and fearlessly swooped into the
lower strata.
The glittering gondola of the air trailed a line of illumination along
the rugged face of the chasm wall, but in the first passing, Henri, as
observed, gave no signal of discovery.
The insistent hum of the motors prevented the hearing of any hail that
might be given from without, and as effectually drowned any call from
within the machine.
"Another round, Billy boy," shouted Henri, "a little lower down."
The next circle and come-back brought results, attested by a gleeful
hurrah from the observer.
"There's a man on the ledge over there--there's two, by jingo! Round
again, pard. Steady now!"
The aëroplane was dangerously near the ledge, a little above it.
Henri was standing, one hand gripping a stay for balance, and in the
other grasping a ball of whipcord. With a sharp turn the pilot nosed
away, the tail lights of the machine gleamed full for an instant upon
the dark figures silhouetted on the rock face, and in that precious,
fleeting instant, with a round arm swing, Henri sent the cord ball,
unwinding as it dropped, straight down upon the ledge.
"Up!" sang out the maker of the successful throw, and as the biplane
made almost perpendicular ascent, it tugged, kite like, at a long line
of cord, paid out by one of the men left behind on the rocky shelf.
Once out of the canyon, the pilot checked his flight at the first
level, and both boys, under the glare of the searchlight, speedily
spliced and knotted two coils of fine-fibered rope, part of the flying
equipment.
Henri, leaning over the edge, drew the cord connection taut, indicating
to the holders below that all was ready at the top. The boy felt sure
that Roque would understand--for it was Roque he had seen in the circle
of light when the ball was thrown.
Sure enough, the cord was drawn downward, and the rope followed the
cord, with, happily, plenty to spare for the making of a safe and
secure anchorage.
"Roque is something of a sailor, as we know, and he'll come up all
right, with a good purchase for his feet against the wall. As for
Schneider, the three of us can hoist him, if necessary."
Billy's advance arrangement went somewhat awry, for it was Schneider's
red top showing first in the light over the brink, and Roque was the
one hauled, almost a dead weight, to solid ground and safety at the end
of the swaying rope, looped under his armpits.
The secret agent's right hand rested in an improvised handkerchief
sling, and his face was set in the pallor of pain.
But how strangely gentle had grown the piercing fixity of those
hard-speaking eyes when turned upon the rescuers who had dared so much
in a feat wonderful to record in aviation annals.
"You might have waited until daylight," he chided, his voice freighted
with emotion, "and with less risk to yourselves."
"And the morning found a couple of maniacs cavorting around this
wilderness. No, sir, the rest cure wouldn't have been the right
prescription for us. Eh, Henri?"
"He's as right as a trivet, Mr. Roque; we took the proper tonic,"
assured Henri.
"A man's size swallow for all that," was Schneider's amen.