TWO PERILOUS NIGHT TRIPS
It may be said that, once up in the air, Stanley lost no time in
heading into the west-southwest. He knew the way, and though it was
yet hardly midnight, he divined the safest way for him to make the
familiar aerodrome was to get there as soon as possible, regardless of
consequences. The night, though foggy, was sufficiently starlight to
aid in his sense of direction. It was hardly likely that there would
be further bombing raids that night, but one was never certain what the
Boches might attempt. Witness their recent raid upon the old chateau,
although they might know that planes had recently landed there.
After the North Sea Wind fog, a general calm had settled down upon that
death-scarred region. Over the front and about No-Man's-Land an
occasional flare or star-shell would go up. One of these came
unusually close to the swiftly moving Fokker. Immediately after that
came bombing from Archies stationed along the enemy front. Among these
some, either accidentally or by design, sent bursting shrapnel all
around him. He heard the wings being struck repeatedly but, knowing
his great speed, he hoped to be out of range almost at once.
With the sound of big guns the whole front was lighted up here and
there with flares and starshells, many being sent up from shell holes
concealed from all but their own side.
More than that; for Stanley, leaning far over to scan the earth below,
suddenly saw men rushing some kind of a gun up a steep incline. Where
was that? It could not be the Appincourte Bluff, for that was now in
our hands. But he recalled another elevation near the small stream
behind.
"Can it be the Boches have tunneled to that former another advancing
post?"
Further thought was interrupted by a brilliant flash and a dull report
just underneath. At the same time he felt sharp stings pierce his arms
now stretched outside the fuselage as he leaned over. Something like a
needle seemed to pierce his brain. In the same instant he was aware
that in his eagerness to reach the base quickly, he had permitted his
plane to approach the earth a great deal nearer than before.
He was tilting his rudder upward, while feeling at once that he was
about all in. But feverishly he gripped wheel and controls, more with
feet than hands, for he was growing more helpless each passing second.
The flashings below had shattered into many small scintillations as
they shot upward, while something sharp and metallic was rattling among
his planes.
But he was mounting, he knew that. Dizzily, he managed mechanically to
turn the plane towards where he knew the broad aerodrome was situated.
"Hope they haven't hit my tank," he maundered. "I -- I'll get there
--" But that was all he did say, for unconsciousness was coming fast.
At the same time he sensed somehow that the Fokker -- already well
peppered by his own crowd on that same day -- was listing, sagging, so
that at last he could hardly keep his seat.
"I -- I'm goin' -- goin'," he kept reiterating in his mind. "Goin' -
go'n -- go --" He lapsed into complete unconsciousness, with his last
sentient movement pressing the wheel and controls downward and towards
the left, where he finally half fell, as we have seen before.
Byers and the orderly bore him quickly to the near-by dormitory, where
many of the fliers were temporarily lodged. Senator Walsen and the
girls followed, while some of the mechanics attended to the crippled
Fokker.
In almost no time the surgeon on duty was there with two of the Red
Cross nurses. Though unconscious, Stanley was restless, uneasy,
evidently worrying. He muttered unintelligibly, tried to break forth
more loudly, but for the present was unable to make any meaning clear
to the others.
"What gets me," remarked Byers while watching the deft manipulations of
the surgeon and the nurses, "is how he came here alone and in such a
rig. Why, that Fokker must have been taken from Fritzy! Why didn't he
return in one of our own machines? Where are the others? I tell you,
Senator, there is trouble afoot; I feel it in my bones!"
As may be imagined, both Andra and Avella were much concerned, though
neither would admit it to the other or, for that matter, to any one
else. Only once Andra, clinging to her sister, whispered timidly:
"Sup -- suppose this poor chap never does revive, Vella? How will we
ever know?"
"We've got to know, Andra. Got to -- that's all I can say!"
By these two whisperings aside each girl was conscious of betraying to
the other some sign of that deep, sudden interest with which at least
two of these dashing young aviators had inspired them. And they, the
fair daughters of a United States Senator! Verily strange and
surprising are the freaks of Cupid. But of this more later. The
physician was still busy over the slowly reviving patient, when the
watchful orderly hurried in to where the captain was watching and
waiting.
"I thought I better go out and take a look, sir. While I was out at
the observation there came some signal flares out of the nor'-nor'east.
I wasn't certain, sir, so I waited. Along came another flash, adding
our most private code signal. After that I dared not hesitate, nor had
I time to run to you without answering. So I - so I --"
"So you answered, eh? Well, that's all right. Did you show a flare,
also in code?"
"You bet, sir! I think it's one of our missing men that may have lost
his way. Better come out with me. He'll be landing next."
Without another word Byers accompanied the orderly out to a point near
the observation post, and almost instantly they heard the whir of
approaching wings, evidently spiraling down from greater heights.
"Give him a light lad." said Byers to the orderly. "He knows where we
are, but in this black night he might hit some building or the fence.
Down on the gravel ran the assistant, followed by Byers, who saw the
flare go up. In a minute a tattered triplane emerged into the light
and made an easy landing not far from where the unconscious Stanley had
previously been carried from his Fokker to the casual dormitory.
Almost before they reached it two of the night watch among the
mechanics arrived and lifted out our old friend Buck Bangs from Idaho.
He was unconscious, the cause being a body bullet wound on the right
side, the bullet being later found bedded in the back of the seat in
his Nieuport.
The machine was riddled even worse than Stanley's Fokker, but
fortunately not in any vital parts, nor had the planes, though
perforated like a sieve in many spots, been injured in any way to
impair their vitality for the frames and joints were all right.
"Take him up to the Casual Dormitory boys," ordered Byers. "Careful!
We don't know how badly he is hurt."
Up they bore him, leaving the machine where it stood. Into the
dormitory he was carried and laid on a vacant bed near the now
recovering Stanley. The latter had shown signs of resuscitation and
now, as they bore in poor Buck, his head hanging helplessly, his limbs
limp and unstrung, Stanley opened his eyes for the first time. They
fell upon Buck, on whom the full light happened to shine brightly.
"Buck -- there's Buck!" gasped the wounded observer. "Where'd he come
from?"
At this instant Vella, happening to glance up, saw Buck's pallid face
as it rested on the arm of one of his supporters who was helping to
place him on the ready cot. She gave a convulsive gasp, seized Andra
by the arm and pushed forward, hardly sensible of where she was, but
only that this youth from the State next to her own was apparently
fatally stricken.
"Stay with me, Andra," she murmured. "I may faint. I don't want to
say! Is he alive? Oh, Andra; does he live?"
Fully alive to the peculiar exigencies of the situation, and deeply
sympathizing with Avella, Andra clung to and supported her sister until
both were themselves again. Thereafter they watched, helped when they
could, and as a rule kept as quiet as mice. It was really a ticklish
situation for two young girls, both among the elite of official society
in Washington, though transferred of their own volition to strange
scenes and duties in this foreign land. Sisterly always, they now
clung together more than usual.
"Is -- is poor Buck dead?" asked Stanley, gaining strength with each
word. "He left us to raid some more Boches and -- and get help."
"The young man is all right." This from the surgeon who had just
finished his examination. "He will pull through with good nursing.
It's a bullet wound between the ribs and I f ear, although I'm not
certain yet, that in passing it pierced the lungs. It has gone out at
his back, near the shoulder, and that's a good thing. Leaves a clean
Wound."
By degrees Buck was brought to, revived by a tonic, braced up by a
subtle injection of some kind, after which his wound was carefully,
thoroughly, and scientifically dressed.
Laying back after this, the first person on whom his sleepy eyes opened
was Stanley, now raised on one elbow, so strong had he already grown,
regarding Bangs much as one might look at some one supposed to be dead,
but returned to life.
"Hello, Buck!" Stanley actually tried to sit up in bed. "When we saw
you put out up in them clouds, I sure thought you were a goner!"
Buck weakly shook his bead, but was restrained by the nurse from trying
to talk. "No use!" he whispered wearily. Then his eyes sought that
sweet girl again . She was still looking at him. He gave a sigh of
satisfaction and almost immediately fell asleep.
All at once Stanley seemed to remember what he had come through a
flying death for. He cursed his forgetfulness, then said aloud:
"I want to see Captain Byers. It -- it's important. Please send for
him."
But Byers, already alert, was stepping close and; saying:
"If it is important, go ahead. But if it can wait --"
"But -- it can't wait, Captain," pleaded Stanley. "They sent me 'cause
they couldn't come. All our planes were bombed from overhead. Had to
use Fritzy's little old Fokker after we got him and his machine.
Believe me, they're a tight place, and there's two women with 'em, one
of them an American girl from Chicago; t'other a good old Belgian."
"Go ahead, my man," urged Byers.
Thereupon Stanley, refreshed by a mug of real Red Cross French wine,
proceeded to relate a succinctly as he could all that the reader now
knows Irwin, and Bangs, so far as Stanley had known. Also their varied
adventures after following the defeated Hun down amid the ruins of the
old baronial chateau.
"Believe me, sir, they are in bad shape," continued Stanley earnestly.
"Both them chaps are clean knocked out for the time being, though I
know they will be able to travel by the time we get back there."
"You say there are women there, too?"
"Yes, sir; two of 'em. One is sister to the wife of the Belgian baron
who owns the whole chateau and estate. They got a permit somehow and
came through the lines; but in view of recent troubles around there
they don't know how to get back. "I'm sure sorry for them."
"What did they go there for, knowing the Germans controlled all that
territory? Had they no better sense?"
"So far as I could understand, they went in the first place for some
important papers hid away there, and which the Boches don't know of."
"Private papers or papers pertaining to the, war?"
"Don't know, sir. All I know is that they said, they had left safe and
were to bring them back if they ever do got back."
Of course the surrounding group were listening. Among these was a
runty, pockmarked, weasel-eyed little chap who went by the name of
Pete, and whom was not much thought of, being considered by those who
knew him best to be more than half German by blood. Be this as it may,
he now began to edge outward from the group and gradually gravitated
towards a side door.
However, he was already watched, and by no less a one than Byers'
orderly. Ever since the escape of Hans, every one suspected of German
connections had been under secret but thorough espionage. When Pete
went out at one door the orderly emerged at the other in time to see
Pete making for the observation post.
"What can the fool want there?" wonder the orderly. In less than a
minute he was satisfied for, drawing from his pocket a peculiar flare
Pete lighted and sent it up, where it shivered into different colored
flashes, doubtless some kind of cheap signal to warn his countrymen
that some big was up. Perhaps also a signal for some one to meet Pete
somewhere. But the orderly had even less patience than discretion. In
two more minutes he had Pete under arrest and bound for the guard
house. One of the mechanics aided the orderly and despite Pete's
protests, he was shut up for the night.
When Byers was told of the matter he first stared, then frowned, and
finally laughed, saying:
"I forgot that you had only been on duty here for a few days. When I
am detained here late, I have Pete or some of the hands send up a
certain kind of flare right down to where I live. That warns 'em I
won't be back before breakfast. Now trot right back now and let Pete
out, sending him to me. He knows this neighborhood where Blaine and
Erwin are now. We may need him -and need him bad."
Much crestfallen, the orderly obeyed, finding Pete fast asleep in a
corner, nor much put out when he found what a mistake had been made.
When they reached the gravelly levels near the hangars, two of the
largest biplanes in the aerodrome were already drawn up ready. In each
of these planes an experienced pilot was in the act of taking his seat.
One of these pilots was Byers himself.
"Come here, you, Pete!" called the captain, half laughing at Pete's
perplexed face. "You in here with me -- see?"
"You take me to Boche 'stead of black-hole? I no do harm anyone."
Pete spoke in a whining, ingratiating tone, but Byers only laughed,
saying:
"You are right, Pete. A mistake was made." Then turning to Stanley,
who had insisted on coming for final admonitions, "This is my friend
Pete, once servant of Baron Savahl. That I know. He is small and
light. He will guide us with the assistance that you, Stanley, have
given me. Brodno also is particularly well acquainted with that part
of the Belgian frontier. Get in, Pete!"
"But, Captain, how can we spare you?" This from Stanley anxiously.
"You will have to spare me. Sergeant Anson is handy, too. In the
early morning, if you see signs of our return, it would be well to send
out a few scouts. But we shall return. Those plans are too important
to King Albert of Belgium and our Allies here to risk any more
uncertainties than can be avoided."
"Are you sure of what you speak? I thought, from what those women
said, that they were private papers."
"Private they may be, in a sense. But they are important enough to all
of us, when you consider how vital they are to certain knowledge
necessary for our leaders to have in regard to a further offensive
which I believe is contemplated. Now back to bed, boy. You've warned
us and we who are well will do all that is needful."
About this time Brodno, waiting impatiently, gave a signal and the
plane, propelled along gravel by mechanics, soon rose lightly in the
air. Byers, having hauled Pete in, followed suit, waving good-night to
Senator Walsen and the ladies. In another minute both big biplanes
were lost to sight, so swiftly did they vanish in a easterly course
under the starlit heavens, shimmer of gray haze hugging the lower just
above the earth.