JACK CLIMBS A WALL
"What luck we're in to be here, Tom!" murmured Jack.
Carl Potzfeldt had again entered the house and closed the door; and the
air service boys could no longer hear the car speeding along the road.
Jack was quivering all over with excitement. The events that had just
come to their attention filled him with a sensation of wonder
approaching awe.
"It certainly is strange how we've stumbled on this nest of spies,"
admitted Tom.
"And the paper he gave the captain--it must have been a message in
cipher that an incoming pigeon brought from back of our lines, eh, Tom?"
"I guess it was, Jack. We could see it was only a small scrap of paper,
thin paper at that; but both of them handled it as if it were pretty
valuable."
Jack was chuckling, such a queer proceeding that Tom could not help
noticing it, and commenting on it.
"What's struck you as funny now?" he asked, puzzled to account for this
sudden freak on the part of his companion.
"I was wondering," explained Jack, "whether that mightn't be the
doctored message we believed our commander meant to send through some
time or other with one of the pigeons we got that day we went hunting."
"That's possible," Tom agreed, also amused at the thought. "But then,
whether it is or not, it means nothing to us, you understand. We are
here, and must decide on our movements. If that was a bogus message, and
will coax the Germans to make an attack at a certain place where a trap
has been laid, that's their lookout."
"Somewhere about here must be the pigeon loft where those homing birds
have been bred," suggested Jack, following up a train of thought.
"Yes, it may be on the flat roof of the chateau, or in the barn at the
rear," Tom admitted. "One thing is certain, they know only this place as
home; and wherever they're set free their first instinct is to strike a
bee-line for here. Some people are so foolish as to fancy homers can be
sent anywhere; but that's silly. It's only home that they're able to
head straight toward, even if hundreds of miles away."
"Oh Tom! how about Bessie?" inquired Jack eagerly.
His chum considered, while he rubbed his chin with thumb and finger in a
thoughtful way he had when a little puzzled.
"It might be done in a pinch," he finally muttered.
"What, Tom?"
"She's such a little mite that her weight wouldn't amount to much, if
only she had the nerve to do it, Jack."
"Do you mean that you'd be willing to carry Bessie off with us? To help
her escape from her guardian? I'm sure he must be treating her badly, or
else she wouldn't be sobbing her poor little heart out, as we heard
her."
"That would have to depend a whole lot on Bessie."
"As far as that goes I know she's a gritty little person," Jack
instantly remarked. "Many times she said to me she wished she were a boy
so that she might also learn to fly and fight for France against the
detested Kaiser. Why, she even told me she had gone up with an aviator
who exhibited down at a Florida resort, one having a hydro-airplane in
which he took people up. And Bessie declared she didn't have the least
fear."
"That sounds good to me, Jack."
"Then let's get busy, and try to let her know we're here," continued
Jack.
"First of all, we'll get under the open window where she must have been
standing at the time we heard her crying. I think I saw a movement up
there while the two men were conversing on the porch. Perhaps Bessie was
listening to what they said."
Tom's words gave his chum a new thought.
"Oh, it would certainly be just like Bessie to do it! She seemed to be
full of clever ideas."
Tom, being mystified by such words, he naturally sought further
information.
"What would she do?" he demanded.
"Send me that mysterious message by the little hot-air balloon," Jack
announced with a vein of pride in his voice, feeling delighted over
having solved the puzzle that had baffled him for so long.
"It hardly seems probable," Tom answered softly. "At the same time it
isn't altogether impossible."
"How far are we from the French front, do you think, Tom?" pursued his
comrade, determined to sift the whole thing out.
"Twenty miles or so, I should imagine."
"That isn't very far. Once I caught just such a little balloon in a tree
in our yard that had a tag on it, telling that it had been set free in a
village that lay _seventy_ miles off. The wind had carried it along
furiously, so that it covered all that distance before losing buoyancy,
and coming down in the heavy night air."
"Yes, I know of other circumstances where such balloons have traveled
long distances before falling. Then again, Jack, this valley extends
pretty much all the way to the Verdun front, and the current of air
would carry a balloon along directly toward our home patch."
"Oh, Bessie sent it, believe me!" asserted Jack again, more confidently
than ever. "And she'll tell us so too, when she gets the chance."
Thus whispering the air service boys arrived at that side of the house
where the lighted window on the second floor seemed to indicate that the
object of their present concern could be found.
Tom examined the building as well as the limited amount of light
allowed. He could easily see that any agile young fellow, himself or
Jack for instance, might scale the wall, making use of some projections,
and a cement flower trellis as well, in carrying out the project.
"We might throw pebbles up, and bring her to the window," he suggested,
though pretty confident at the time Jack would find fault with such an
arrangement.
"That wouldn't help her get down here to us, Tom," protested the other.
"And that's what we're planning, you remember; for you said she could
accompany us if she felt equal to it. I must go up myself and help
Bessie get down. There's nothing else to do, Tom."
It looked very much as though Jack was right. Tom admitted this to
himself; at the same time he wished there were some other way by means
of which the same end could be gained, or that he could undertake the
thing, instead of his comrade.
But to this Jack would never agree. Bessie was his own particular
friend; and they had been most "chummy" while aboard the Atlantic liner
crossing the submarine infested ocean. Then again that warning had been
addressed to him, and not to both, showing that the writer had only been
concerned about the danger he, Jack, was running, should his plane be
tampered with by some emissary of Carl Potzfeldt.
"All right then; you go, Jack! But be careful about your footing. If you
fell it'd be a bad thing in many ways, for even if you escaped a broken
neck or a fractured leg you'd arouse the house, and all sorts of trouble
would drop down on us in a hurry."
"Don't worry about me, Tom. I'll show you I'm as nimble as any monkey.
Besides, that isn't much of a climb. Why, I could nearly do it with one
arm tied fast."
"Go to it!" Tom told him, settling back to watch the performance and
give whispered advice if it seemed necessary.
Jack waited no longer. He was wild to find himself once more face to
face with the pretty young girl in whom he had taken such an interest.
Her recent sobs and cries still haunted his heart, and he felt certain
she must be in great sorrow over something.
He commenced climbing. While his boast about being equal to any monkey
that ever lived among the treetops may have been a bit of an
exaggeration, all the same Jack was a very good athlete, and especially
with regard to feats on the parallel bars or the ladders in a gymnasium.
He made his way nimbly upward, with Tom's eyes following every movement.
It seemed an easy task for the climber. Just what he would discover when
he had gained the open window was another question.
The light still remained, for which both boys felt glad. It afforded
Jack a goal which he was striving to gain; and it told Tom further down
that the inmate of the upper room was awake and still moving about,
though her sobs had ceased.
Once Tom fancied he heard something stirring back of the house. He hoped
it might not prove to be a servant attached to the Potzfeldt place or an
attendant who had charge of the pigeon loft.
Jack was almost up now. He had only to cover another yard of space when
he could look into the room of the lighted window. That was where fresh
peril must lie, because his figure would be outlined in silhouette, and
any one moving about the grounds might discover that uninvited guests
had arrived.
Tom wished he had told his chum to insist that the light be immediately
extinguished, if, as they believed, it proved to be Bessie who occupied
that room. He hoped his chum would think of it without being told.
There! At last Jack had arrived, and without accident! Now he was
cautiously thrusting his head up a little, to peer within.
Tom held his breath. So much depended on what would follow Jack's
betrayal of his presence.
"Tell her to put out the light, first of all, Jack!" Tom gently called
out, using both hands as a megaphone to carry the sounds.
It seemed that he must have been heard, and his directions understood,
for immediately there was another movement above, after which the
illumination ceased, as though Bessie had blown out the lamp.
Tom breathed easier, though he still continued to look, and wonder how
his chum was going to get the girl safely down from her elevated
apartment. Jack was not so fertile in expedients as his chum, and many
times depended on Tom to suggest ways and means.
While Tom was still waiting, and hoping for the best, he heard his
comrade whisper down to him as he hung suspended, clutching the sill of
the open window.
"After all, you'll have to come up too, Tom," he was saying feverishly.
"There are complications that'll need your judgment, knots to untangle
that are beyond me."