CAUGHT IN THE ACT.
What had happened was no mystery to Rob and Merritt, though possibly
Tubby, not quite so apt to jump to conclusions, remained a little
bewildered at what was going on.
It seemed that the Belgians must have suspected something wrong, and
possibly followed the bearer of the lantern when he went into the open
field to flash his signals toward the sky.
The three scouts from across the ocean were not the only watchers who
had read that message. Yes, and the coast had not been as clear as the
signal man believed, since even then enemies must have been creeping
toward him, though utterly unseen in the darkness.
The rapid discharge of guns, and the loud outcries of men engaged in
desperate warfare, thrilled the boys. They could not see a single
figure, but the spiteful flashing of firearms, as they were discharged,
told them that the fight was not all one-sided, and that the Germans
must be resisting capture with their usual valor.
All at once they heard another sound.
"It's the motor--the aeroplane man has managed to get going!" exclaimed
Rob, instantly comprehending what that meant.
In order to rise, after starting his machine, it was necessary for the
aviator to first skim along the field for a little distance, and
gradually gain an impetus which, at the proper instant, results in a
slow ascent.
Of course he was taking all sorts of desperate chances in making this
blind venture; but his life was at stake, if caught. Besides, he
undoubtedly must have examined the nature of that level stretch of
ground before, and selected it as a landing place on account of its good
qualities.
"He's heading this way, Rob!" exclaimed Tubby, almost in a panic.
"If he butts into this wall it'll spell his finish!" added Merritt.
"No danger of that," said Rob. "He knows every foot of ground around
here. But duck down, everybody. They will fire a volley after him, and
we might get in line of the bullets."
Tubby dropped flat, forgetting that the high stone wall was as good a
breastwork as any one could want.
Just as Rob had anticipated, there was a series of explosions, and they
could even hear the patter of bullets striking the piled-up stones
composing the wall.
This was enough to tell them that the fleeing aviator had headed
straight toward the spot where they were crouching. And, as the rattle
of his machine grew louder, they realized that he was approaching them
with considerable speed.
Then, with an additional clatter, the Taube passed over the wall,
clearing its top by not more than ten feet.
"Keep down!" exclaimed Rob, feeling Merritt beginning to make a move,
and afraid lest he should stand upright in order to better follow the
progress of the aeroplane.
It was well he spoke when he did, for another burst of firing came. The
soldiers were sending random volleys after the fleeing airman, in hopes
of injuring his machinery or wounding the aviator himself.
"That was sure a great getaway!" bubbled Tubby, still seated there on
the ground.
"But I rather think they winged him," added Merritt, possibly with a
note of regret in his voice.
It was not that he felt any particular sympathy for the German cause;
but, boy-like, he could admire grit and daring, no matter under what
flag it might be found. That bold flight of the Taube operator in the
face of the flying missiles was quite enough to arouse the spirit of any
one with red blood in his veins.
"What makes you say that?" asked Tubby, not meaning to remain in
ignorance when he possessed a ready tongue.
"I was pretty sure the machine wabbled as it passed over," said Merritt.
"My opinion, too," Rob chimed in. "It seemed to me he was trying his
best to get it to mount, but it balked. That could only mean something
had gone wrong with the machinery, or else a wing had been fractured."
"Huh! you talk just like the machine might be a baseball pitcher,"
commented Tubby. "But, if that's the case, the chances are he'll drop to
the ground right away, or else smash up against some tree."
"Just what may happen to him," agreed Merritt.
"You'll notice that the sound of motor and propeller has suddenly died
out," suggested Rob, "which I take it looks pretty rough for the
man-bird."
"Oh! that would be too bad, now!" Tubby whimpered, as he imagined he
could see the bold pilot of the crippled flier dashed to the ground
amidst the wreckage of his machine.
"Well, the shooting seems to be over!" remarked Merritt.
"I wonder what happened to the spy?" Rob observed, as he stared over the
top of the stone wall toward the spot where the late confusion had taken
place.
They could still see that little glow, proving that the lantern had not
been kicked over in all the riot when the creeping Belgians had pounced
on the enemy.
"Would it be wise for us to head over there now, Rob?"
Plainly Merritt was curious to know what had happened, and his manner of
putting this question to the patrol leader showed that he would never be
satisfied unless they made some sort of attempt to solve the mystery.
This time he found Rob more agreeable. Conditions had changed
considerably since the leader had put his foot down upon any suggestion
that they thrust themselves into the game. The Belgians were their
friends, and they could not believe any danger was to be feared from
that source.
"We might walk over that way," Rob admitted slowly; "that is, if Tubby
can get over this wall."
"If not, he could wait for us here," suggested Merritt, with a chuckle.
"I see myself waiting all alone on the other side of the wall, while you
two step forward and find out all there is going on. I can climb walls,
all right, if somebody only gives me a little boost. Try me, and see,
Rob. That's a good fellow!"
Of course Rob was ready to lend the desired assistance; and as Tubby
secured a hold on a large stone that crowned the wall, he was able to
hunch himself up, puffing and grunting at a great rate.
It was easy enough to get down, if one did not care how he fell; but
Tubby proved fortunate in finding toe places where he could secure a
hold, and in some fashion managed to "dismount."
He pattered after his two chums, who were already moving toward the
middle of the big field.
Rob, always noticing things as he went along, found that the field was
very level, and he could understand how the place must have been
selected for a rendezvous since it offered such exceptional facilities
for an aeroplane to land and start up again.
Perhaps this had been a regular nightly affair, and all sorts of
valuable information may have been carried to the German Headquarters
by means of this novel air route.
As the three boys gradually drew nearer the place where the lantern
could still be seen, they discovered that it was now being held in the
hand of some person who wore a uniform.
"Belgians, all right!" muttered Rob, after noting that the garb was not
like the khaki-colored clothes of the British troops, nor yet the blue
and red of the French soldiers.
There seemed to be more than a dozen of the men, showing that they had
come in force. Whether they had discovered the spy by accident or
followed him to the place of meeting, Rob, of course, could only guess;
nor did it matter to him.
"I can see the prisoner!" whispered Merritt.
"Yes, and there seem to be two of them," added Rob, noting that the men
were being held by several soldiers, and it was as though the officer in
command might be questioning them closely, for a voice could be heard
speaking in French.
"They've been up against hard knocks, it looks like," Tubby mentioned,
eager to let his chums know he was close at their heels, and able to
see a few things for himself.
Indeed, the men did have the appearance of having been through the mill.
Their hats were missing, so that their hair hung about their faces,
which looked as if they had been brought in contact with a pile-driver,
for there was blood, also contusions and bruises visible.
"And one of them stands as if he hadn't any use for his left leg, which
means most likely he's got a bullet through it," Rob continued.
He spoke aloud, and for a reason. It were better that the soldiers in
the field learned of their advance by some such method as this. If, on
the other hand, the trio of scouts were detected advancing in any sort
of suspicious manner they might be unfortunate enough to evoke a volley.
Excited men sometimes shoot first and ask questions afterward.
A harsh voice suddenly demanded in French to know who they were, and
what they had to say for themselves; adding that unless they replied
instantly the order to cut them down would be given.
[Illustration: "Advance, and hold up your hands above your heads!" he
ordered.--_Page 149._]