A SPY BAFFLED
Both young aviators stared at the wicker cage containing the two
pigeons. The birds had been still up to then, but now commenced to make
cooing sounds, as though pleased at having human company. Apparently
they were inclined to be sociable, as Jack afterwards put it.
"So he discovered us coming along," Jack went on to say, "and skipped
out in such a hurry he didn't have time to carry away the cage with
him."
"He must have climbed out of this window in the side of the wall,"
observed Tom. "We could have seen him if he had used the door. Yes,
there are footprints underneath the window. He ran down behind those
bushes and reached the stone wall that leads to the broken country and
what is left of the woods."
"The chances are he had all that mapped out beforehand," suggested Jack.
"Surely a spy has always to keep a door open for retreat."
"Yes. Why not? They take their lives in their hands every time they
enter the hostile lines, and you can't blame a man for wanting to live a
little longer, especially if he believes he can serve his country."
"Perhaps he hasn't got such a good start but that we could overtake him
if we went after him now," suggested Jack.
"We might take a turn that way," his chum agreed. "But not too far
afield. We didn't start out to search for spies, and we've only got a
single gun between us. Even my automatic was left behind, because I
didn't expect to have any use for it, and get tired carrying the thing,
with its belt."
"But these pigeons here, Tom?"
"We can leave them until we get back. That's one reason why I don't want
to get out of sight of the place. He might make a round, and carry the
birds away while we were engaged in a hunt half a mile off. And it may
be of much more importance that those live birds arrive in the French
camp than that we should bag the spy."
"I get you, Tom; so let's commence our little man-hunt right away."
The two friends set off. Tom tried to follow the course he believed the
spy must have taken on quitting the old farmhouse ruins. That his
reckoning was clear he proved several times by pointing out to his
companion plain evidences that some other person had passed along the
way before them.
Here the marks of shoes could be detected in the soft earth. A little
further on, and at a point where the man must have crawled in order to
keep from being seen, they found tracks where his toes had dragged
along, as well as the indentation of his knees in the soil.
Presently they arrived at the terminus of the stone wall, about the only
thing remaining intact connected with the French farm. There was not a
single tree showing signs of life in that patch of sombre forest; where
shell-fire had failed to do the work of destruction a malicious hand had
girdled the trunk with a keen-edged tool, and thus encompassed the doom
of the trees.
Tom came to a pause.
"I reckon we've come far enough," he said, taking a look over toward the
fragment of a house on the slight elevation, which could just be seen
from their present position.
"I'd have liked to catch up with that duck and march him back to camp,
along with his feathered messengers," Jack grumbled disappointedly.
"Somehow I hate and despise a spy above all created things."
The youths set their faces once more in the direction of the ruins,
where they soon arrived. Jack half feared that in spite of them the cage
and its feathered inmates had been spirited away. He hastened inside
ahead of his companion and then called out cheerily:
"It's all right, Tom, and nobody at home. Here's the wicker cage and the
pigeons, just as we left them!"
"As the afternoon is passing, and we have a long distance to go, we'd
better be making a start," Tom remarked, when he reached the open door.
"Let me carry the pigeon cage, Tom, as you have the gun," suggested
Jack, after slipping his hand through the ring at the top. "Say, perhaps
the boys won't give us a laugh, to see what queer game we've brought
back from our hunt!"
They left the ruins of the once peaceful farmhouse behind them, and
commenced retracing their steps. Tom was too old a hand at hunting to
get lost. He had kept his bearings through the whole tramp, no matter
how many turns they took in examining some promising ground where rabbit
burrows might be found. On this account then he would have no difficulty
whatever in leading his comrade straight back to the villa in which the
entire Lafayette Escadrille of American fliers was quartered.
They were passing along about half a mile from the wrecked farmhouse
kitchen, and not far from the spot where Tom made his successful shot,
when without warning the report of a gun came to their ears. Jack
involuntarily ducked his head.
"Say, did you hear that whining sound just over us, Tom? That was caused
by a bullet skipping past!"
Tom for answer dragged his chum down behind a fringe of dead bushes that
chanced to lie close by.
"It was a bullet, all right, Jack," he replied, not without a tremor in
his voice, for this thing of being made a target by some murderous
unseen person was a new and novel experience.
"Do you suppose it was fired by the man who owns these pigeons?" further
questioned Jack, though showing no intention of loosening his grip on
the wicker cage.
"It could hardly be any one else. He has dogged us this far, or else
just happened to catch sight of us. That shot was fired from a distance,
and if we take a notion to run he couldn't possibly hit us. But we might
as well make use of this fringe of bushes to creep some way off. Then
we'll get on our feet and put out for home at full speed."
This they proceeded to do without further delay. When it was no longer
possible to utilize the bushes for cover, they sprang to their feet and
ran. Jack fully anticipated hearing other shots--yes, and perhaps having
more leaden missiles singing their vicious songs about his head. But he
was agreeably disappointed in his expectations, for not a report came.
Evidently the spy had gone away, thinking discretion the better part of
valor. He may have noticed that they were in uniform, and armed in the
bargain.
Later on the air service boys moderated their mad pace, and as there
seemed to be no further signs of danger they finally fell into a walk.
Still neither of them lagged, but kept up a brisk pace, Jack casting
numerous apprehensive glances over his shoulder, haunted by a lingering
suspicion that the spy might yet give them trouble.
They came through safely at last. The villa in which the American fliers
were quartered was reached, and seemed to be deserted at that hour in
the afternoon. Everybody must be busy at the front, the boys concluded,
for the din was more distracting than usual.
"We picked out a bad day for getting off, I'm afraid, Tom," Jack sighed.
"They told us there was nothing big in prospect; but since we started
out on our hunt I guess the Huns have put up something of size. And the
boys will be in the thick of it all too! We might have had a share if
we'd been on duty to-day."
"Brace up, Jack," chided his chum. "For all you know, what we've done
may turn out to be ten times more important than all the work of the
entire escadrille to-day. These captured birds and that cipher message,
represent possibilities beyond anything you or I can know. Leave all
that to the general."
"When do you mean to see him, Tom?"
"As soon as I can arrange it. And you're coming with me when I get the
summons to his headquarters, depend on that, Jack. Your part in this
affair is just as important as mine."
Tom put the cage with its cooing inmates in their room. Then he started
out to try to get into communication with the commanding general. He had
met him once by mere chance, but he hardly believed General Petain would
remember him in the least.
The action was about over for the day. The Crown Prince had once again
thrown a heavy storming party forward in the endeavor to make a breach
in the French lines, through which he could pour the veteran reserves he
had in waiting. But, as had often happened before, he counted without
his host; and when the sun went down all he had to show for his stroke
was a greatly increased casualty list.
The French could not be moved.
Tom understood how to go about it, and in the end managed to get an
obliging French captain whom he knew very well, to carry a message to
the commander-in-chief to the effect that he had news of great
importance to communicate. Just as Tom expected would be the case, this
brought back a speedy answer.
"You are both to come with me, young Messieurs," said the captain, his
eyes sparkling with interest, for Tom had told him enough to excite his
curiosity, and he knew the Americans would not aimlessly take up the
precious time of the general. "Our valiant commander is tired after a
strenuous day; but never is he too weary to attend to duty; and he
already finds himself interested in everything you brave young airmen
attempt. So please accompany me to headquarters."
Shortly afterwards the boys found themselves face to face with General
Petain.