MORE TROUBLE FOR THE CHUMS
It had been a close call for the two air service boys. Had they been
delayed just a minute or two longer escape might have been impossible.
And to have been caught with the spy's paper of information in their
possession might have proved a very serious matter.
Some of the mob, that had come from Metz itself, were German soldiers.
They carried guns with which they opened a hot fire on the departing
plane.
Again the lucky star of Tom and Jack seemed to be in the ascendant, for
they did not receive even a scratch. Later they found reason to believe
that a number of the leaden missiles had come very close to their
persons; for the marks upon the body of the plane itself, as well as the
tiny holes in the stout linen covering of the wings, told where bullets
had passed. Possibly, though, these had come from the rapid-fire gun
handled by the Boche airman.
The plane had left the ground and started to mount when this shooting
occurred, so that the marksmen had at least had a fair target at which
to fire. But as the departing airplane was speeding away from them the
rapidly increasing distance may have disconcerted the Germans. At any
rate they failed to bag their game.
The boys were now mounting upwards again, filled with joy over their
recent escape. Jack felt sure that Tom had the precious paper; for he
well knew the other would never have returned so quickly had not success
rewarded his search.
They were soon heading directly for their distant base. Tom could now
give his aerial steed the rein, and get all the speed possible out of
the cumbersome two-seater. There was no longer any necessity for
"loafing on the job," to allow a tardy moon to come in sight, as had
been the case before. Home, and at top speed, was the slogan now.
But, alas! it was not long before Tom realized that something was wrong
with the plane. He found it increasingly difficult to manage the engine,
and the machine began to give erratic jumps that alarmed Jack.
Had it been possible to make himself heard above the clatter of the
motor and the propeller, Jack would have been much inclined to shout
out, and ask his more experienced comrade what had happened.
Still he could give a shrewd guess. One of the bullets fired by the
Teuton soldiers must have struck some part of the motor, and done enough
damage to make its workings exceedingly erratic. If such were the case,
would it be wise for them to try to push on at this high altitude, where
a sudden collapse would mean death for both of the occupants of the
disabled plane?
Tom soon shut the motor off, and tilted the machine for a volplane down
several thousand feet to a new level.
Jack held his breath. This was partly because the wind rushed at him in
a vicious fashion while they were plunging downward, and also on account
of a new fear that clutched his heart.
How about the wings of the airplane standing the strain when Tom
suddenly brought that volplane to a stop and tried to sail on an even
keel again? Would they hold out? Or had some defect occurred in them
which could also be charged to the spattering bullets fired by the Metz
mob?
Then Jack breathed easier again.
The thing had been accomplished, and they were once more speeding
onward, as Tom touched the controls that started the motor working. All
then was well, as far as they had gone. Apparently they could by
successive stages descend close to the treetops, and skim along until
some favorable open space showed, into which a skillful pilot would find
it possible to drop lightly and land.
A second volplane further added to Jack's peace of mind. They were now
halfway down, and all seemed well. The earth loomed up below, although
as yet it took on only a vague, misty effect, due to the weak moonlight.
Jack busied himself in trying to make things out, as for the third time
the nose of the heavy observation Caudron was suddenly pointed downward,
and they took the next "header."
This time Tom dropped a greater distance. When once more the loud hum of
motor and propellers was heard they had almost reached the treetops.
Jack gave one gulp, in fear lest his pilot could not make things work as
he intended, and that they must crash to the earth while descending at
such frightful speed.
Now everything was all right. They could not be more than a thousand
feet above the floor of the valley they were following in their homeward
route. If anything happened surely Tom would find some way of making a
landing, even if a clumsy one that would put their machine out of the
running and leave them stranded on enemy soil.
They continued to move along slowly, both looking eagerly to discover
signs that would invite a possible landing. It looked as though they
were in the country; at least they did not discover any signs of lights
to indicate the presence of houses near by.
Soon a landing proved feasible, as they came to just the kind of open
plot the air service boys yearned to discover. To make absolutely
certain before committing himself, Tom circled the ground twice, and
even dropped lower and lower while so doing, all the while straining his
vision to the utmost.
Then the thing was done.
That was far from a pleasant landing. It shook them up considerably; but
Jack was of the opinion that no damage resulted to the airplane, which
after all was just then the main consideration.
Both of them leaped to the ground, after which Tom secured his electric
hand-torch which he had found useful so many times while on the outward
trip and he wished to consult the compass or the register of the
barograph.
"I guess there's some sort of a house near by," said Jack, "because a
rooster crowed over yonder. Yes, I can see what looks like the line of a
road, too. I suppose it runs the entire length of this valley."
While Jack was saying this softly the pilot had started to take an
inventory of the motor. His now practiced eye ran along this and that
part, each of which was so essential to the smooth running of the
engine. Tom too had already formed a pretty clear idea as to where he
was likely to find the damage, and hence was able in a short time to
give a satisfied grunt.
"Located the trouble, have you, Tom?" queried the other.
"Yes. It's right where I expected to find it. A bullet has made a dent
that interferes with the free action of the part. Besides, I think that
spark plug has become fouled with oil, and will have to be changed to
get the best results."
"How lucky you brought another with you! Lots of fellows wouldn't have
bothered about such a little thing."
"I had my suspicions about that when we started," explained the other,
"even though the mechanician assured me it was perfectly clean. I know
different now, and will certainly give him a piece of my mind when we
get back."
"Then you expect to get home safely, do you?" asked Jack, in a relieved
tone, that proved how anxious he had been growing since troubles had so
consecutively alighted on them.
"Surely," chuckled the other, with his usual confidence in voice and
manner, "a thing like this isn't going to stop our plans. Here in this
retired spot nobody's apt to bother us while we make our repairs. You
can hold this torch, Jack, and shove the light squarely on the work."
Tom worked for some time. He tapped as gently as possible when knocking
out the dent made by the bullet, and he gradually removed the cause of
the trouble. He was just finishing with the spark-plug when the
confidence of the air service boys received a sudden jolt.