Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Germany; or, Winning the Iron Cross

by Horace Porter

  CHAPTER XIII.

  CAPTURED BY COSSACKS.

  "COLONEL, permit me to present a likely pair of air travelers who arenever satisfied with the ground space they occupy."

  Billy and Henri tipped their caps to six-feet-three of superb manhood,in Austrian uniform of dark blue.

  Roque made the introduction, and the boys felt quite sure that thisceremony only completed advance notice of the character of service theywere capable of rendering.

  The officer, measuring the young aviators with a keen gray eye, noddedapprobation.

  "They will admirably fit in the carrying service," he remarkedto Roque; "they are jockey weight, which is a good point for theassignment."

  Billy assumed from the manner, if not the language used, that Henri andhimself had successfully passed inspection.

  It appeared that airmen here were persons of some importance, asaffording the only connecting link with the outside world.

  Almost every day, the boys were advised, an aeroplane went toGalician headquarters, on the outward flight carrying only lettersand postcards, but on the return trip bringing tinned meats and handgrenades for the soldiers.

  The big biplane piloted by Billy and Henri dwarfed anything else in theway of air machines shown in the fortress.

  Other aviators, viewing the No. 3's, cheerfully conceded that they werecertainly built to be winners.

  These experts, however, as usual with their kind just gettingacquainted with our boys, were inclined to be doubtful of the capacityof the youngsters to rank with themselves as drivers of aircraft.

  It was up to time--a little time--to convince them of their error ofjudgment.

  The crack driver of the Przemysl air squadron, Stanislaws, which nameBilly promptly shortened to "Stanny," was the earliest convert to thenew belief when he went as observer with the boy from Bangor on thelatter's first foraging detail.

  Lack of knowledge of the country prevented the chums from workingtogether at this period.

  "He will show me the way, but just hazard a little guess that I'll havea little show of my own on the way."

  Billy buzzed this in the ear of the grinning Schneider, when the orderto get away was received.

  Henri, with the comfort that his turn was coming, stoutly backed thebelief that his partner intended to exceed the speed limit as a lessonto the doubters.

  "'Stanny' will have a new kink in his whiskers before he gets back,"was the expression, to be exact, used by Henri on this evening.

  The great bird machine, soaring like an albatross in the northern sky,soon vanished from the view of the watchers in the fortifications.

  "He's six horses and a wagon with a dog under it," Stanislaws earnestlyadvised the officers at army headquarters, pointing at Billy, who wasreducing heat in the propeller by liberal use of the oil can.

  "Stanny" had already made good with the American boy, not so much byhis frank expression of admiration for the youngster's handling ofthe military biplane as for the reason that the Austrian talked plainUnited States when they were alone. Billy was dead-set against thetrial of eternally groping for the meaning of foreign phrases.

  "Do you know why we aviators are running a freight line just now?"queried this new friend.

  Billy acknowledged that he had not the least idea on that subject."Why?"

  "Filimonoff."

  "Who in the dickens is Filimonoff?"

  "He is the greatest of all Cossacks," explained the senior airman,"and the very devil on two sticks. Near Przemysl, not long ago, heheld up one of our convoys and captured 200 wagons of grain and coal.He strikes where least expected, plays the peasant to perfection andsecretly gets a lot of information that does not belong to him. Itwould be worth a lot to a fellow who dulled the spurs of this cock ofthe walk."

  "Ah hum," thought Billy, "I can pretty near guess now what broughtRoque to this neck of the woods."

  So long was the enforced wait at headquarters this day that it was notuntil after nightfall that the biplane set out on its return voyage tothe fortress.

  A strong air current from the north, with a decided snap to it,forced the aviators out of fixed course, but despite the biting blastStanislaws was yet able to advise the pilot as to the general directionto be pursued.

  They saw ahead of them a red glow and the uplift of a spreadingfountain of sparks. It was a house burning to the ground, probablyfired by a Russian shell.

  The blaze revealed a familiar landmark to the biplane observer. "Keepher nose to the left," he advised the pilot.

  Billy, who figured the speed fully 70 miles to the hour, had themachine under perfect control, and it instantly responded to everyshift of the steering lever. With the ordered slight turn it wasscarce ten minutes before the biplane hovered over the vast, shadowymass of the fortress below. The powerful propeller stopped, and thewinged racer stood still against the black dome of the midnight sky.Now the forward plane dipped as the throbbing of the motor again washeard, and the bird machine plunged down at an angle of 45 degrees,settling in the plaza within the silvery ring formed by its ownsearchlight.

  "The work of an artist," proclaimed Stanislaws to the aviators in thenight watch.

  "Carrying some weight, too," added the soldier who superintended theremoval of the cargo.

  Billy had a bedtime story for Henri about Filimonoff.

  It having been determined to regularly use both biplanes in thecarrying service, the detail at last put the boys together in the samemachine, with Stanislaws and Schneider manning the other.

  "None of your self-made adventures," Roque admonished, when he hadinformed Billy and Henri of the arrangement.

  The young aviators were, in duty bound, compelled to mumble some sortof assurance that they would stick closely to the task set for them.

  That they failed to keep the agreement proved, strange to say, thefault of Schneider, the very man charged to keep an eye on them.

  It was the third aerial expedition of the week, and following the sameroute, without mishap, had no longer the charm of novelty to Billy andHenri, and, it may be stated, the easy sailing had begun, also, topall on the high-strung warrior with the sorrel hair, now sitting asobserver behind the Austrian pilot.

  At army headquarters, Stanislaws was giving his entire time andattention to checking up the needs of the garrison, and figuringclosely on the capacity of the biplanes to carry all that he deemedabsolutely necessary to take back to the fortress on this particularreturn journey.

  The balance of the crew--the trio who were getting weary of theuneventful freight business--had nothing special to do but wait.

  "No use of sitting still and twiddling our thumbs; I don't see any harmin looking around a bit."

  Schneider's suggestion appealed to his companions, and they had notrouble in securing the loan of a pony each from the large number ofthese hardy specimens of horseflesh browsing around the camp.

  They were advised by a good-natured member of the commissary departmentnot to venture too far beyond the line of patrols, and Stanislaws gavethem to understand that he expected to be ready to start within thenext three hours.

  "We'll be here on time all right, Stanny," called Billy, clucking hispony into a smart canter, following the lead of his similarly mountedfriends.

  The one who was left behind had no reckoning then that he need not havehurried in his packing.

  The roads traversed by the riders were deep in slush and mud because ofa thaw, but the fresh ponies reveled in the going, and it was not longbefore a tempting range of harder ground extended the gallop furtherafield.

  "Say, boys," suddenly remarked Schneider, rising in the stirrups for asurvey of their whereabouts, "I think we have gone about far enough,and must take the back-track immediately."

  "Wait a moment," urged Henri, "there's a man waving to us over there."

  Schneider, looking in the direction indicated by the boy at his side,saw it was a peasant who was making the friendly motions to attracttheir attention.

  "What's the
word, my friend?"

  The peasant spread out his hands in gesture of cordial yet humblegreeting. "My house is near" (pointing eastward over the plain). "It isyours."

  "The sun is yet high, let's go over and see the house of his nobs,"gayly proposed Billy.

  The native shrugged his shoulders, and wore a puzzled look at the wordsin a tongue evidently foreign to him.

  Henri supplied the information in German, it being the language inwhich the invitation had been extended to them.

  "I think he could understand even better if we were talking Russ, butstill, as he made a fair stagger in German, we will have to let it goat that. We can see him home, as he says it is near, and then strikeout for headquarters."

  Prodding his shaggy steed with his heavy boot-heels, the strangershowed the path to his guests, the party speedily reaching a small butsolidly built farmhouse on the bank of a small river.

  Schneider, with soldierly precaution, transferred the heavy servicerevolver he carried in his belt to a convenient pocket under the capeof his overcoat.

  Perhaps the husky fighter felt it was not much of an exhibit of courageto set a gun at hand when he found that no other human than this oldfarmer with a crook in his back seemed to inhabit the premises.

  "I was as dry as a fish," asserted Billy, eagerly accepting a drink ofcold water from a stone mug proffered by their host. There were otherthirsty ones in the party, for the mug was emptied several times in thepassing.

  Just about that time Schneider lost all interest in water. Happening toglance out of a window facing to the north, his eye caught a sunflashon a lance-head, and now and again other sparkling tips.

  The revolver he now appreciated was in the right place.

  But of what avail, after all, was one pistol against a band of recklessand wily Cossacks, if such were under those nine-foot lances?

  Billy and Henri were unarmed.

  The peasant was up with a jump when Schneider proclaimed his discoveryof impending peril.

  "Hide! Hide!"

  With the words of alarm he tugged at an iron ring in the center of theheavily-planked floor.

  It was considerable of a lift, this weighty trap-door, but the old mandeveloped a surprising degree of activity and strength, and quicklypresented the way to a cellar by means of a ladder, the length of whichindicated considerable depth.

  "Not for me," strenuously objected Schneider; "they will never catch uslike rats in a trap."

  "Quick! Quick!" pleaded the peasant.

  Billy, at the window, excitedly announced:

  "They're the real thing; I can tell by their caps and caftans. TheCossacks are here!"

  Schneider was as cool as a cucumber--that was the way the near prospectof a death struggle always affected him. He was hot-headed only whengiven the smaller provocations.

  "Bar that door!"

  The boys hastened to obey that crisp command.

  The old peasant attempted to leave the house before the entrancebarrier was secured and fastened.

  "Halt!"

  An unwavering line of steel barrel, and the menace of the voice behindit, checked stockstill this attempt to escape.

  Fully a dozen of the rough riders of the north had dismounted in thefarm enclosure, and advanced upon the house, some with lances andothers carrying curved swords without guards.

  "Get away from the windows," hissed Schneider, himself backing againstthe wall. "You too," savagely addressing the peasant, who in the pastfew moments continued to show remarkable recovery from the infirmity ofbent shoulders and halting step. The man nervously fingered the foldsof his rusty green tunic as he obeyed the fiercely given command, andas he stood nearest to Billy the latter was inclined to keep at leastthe corner of his eye peeled on the suspect. It was well for Schneiderthat the boy was watchful, for when the supposed farmer stealthilylowered his hand it grasped the bone haft of a dagger.

  The Cossacks outside vigorously pounded the door with lance butt andsword hilt, and receiving no response to their peremptory summons, setpowerful shoulders to work. But they could not budge or even shake thesolid barrier.

  Then at the window appeared a bearded face of ferocious type,surmounted by high-crowned lambskin cap.

  Schneider slowly raised his revolver.

  The transformed peasant, noting the action, crouched like a panther fora spring, which he made the same instant. But the murderous intent wasbaffled and the leap fell short.

  Billy Barry's foot was purposely in the way, and the would-be daggerwielder hit the floor with a crash. Startled by the tumble, Schneider'strigger-finger caused the waste of one revolver shot, and spoiledfurther attempt to deceive by silence.

  In the moment of excitement no thought had been given by the defendersto the rear of the house, and before Schneider could even turn on hisheel, a half-dozen lance points threatened him, front and back.

  The fallen peasant was on his feet in a flash, and it was a mighty uglylook that he fixed on Billy.

  "You will go to the cellar now, because I say it, and will come outagain if I will it."

  The sign of leadership was on the man, for none of the strange soldieryabout him ventured to speak even a word in his presence.

  Schneider, disarmed and no longer resisting, was hustled into the darkhole in the floor, and the boys were forcibly assisted in the samegloomy descent.

  The heavy trap was closed with a bang, and sealed by the crossing of aclanking chain.