CHAPTER XX.
WINNING OF THE IRON CROSS.
THE aviators in the party of Roten were all for sailing, post-haste,to the slope where the mysterious climbers had been sighted, and veryshortly the little fleet was in the air, headed that way.
Flying low, the observers kept a sharp lookout for the near appearanceof the man with the burden and the "shorter fellow."
Roque caught the first glimpse, and called to his pilot to risk a lookfor himself. Billy had only a side glance, as the machine rounded thesummit, but that was enough for him.
"It's Henri and Schneider, or their ghosts!" he shouted.
Roque fixed his glasses for the close view.
"As sure as shooting it is, but how in the world did they get here?"
Billy had no ear for this--he was for landing right there, even witha chance of plowing through the bushes. However, reason ruled, and hesteered for a clearing, into which the biplane promptly plumped.
Hardly waiting until the machine had run its length, the boy was outand speeding to greet his chum.
It was a regular collision, the manner in which the youngsters cametogether.
"Glory be!" This was Billy's high-pitched note.
"Here's to you, Buddy, bully old boy!" Henri cried.
The "bully old boy" then made a dash for Schneider and worked thelatter's brawny arm up and down like a pump handle.
Roque repeated the last-named performance with both the recoveredmembers of his crew.
In the meantime the Austrians were saluting Captain Schwimmer, wellknown to them as a gallant officer in a famous command.
"But for them, gentlemen," gravely stated the captain, nodding towardSchneider and Henri, "I had been in my last fight. Through danger,cold and hunger have they brought me, and neither needs a patent ofnobility--nature took care of that."
Roque had only to listen to the happy reunion chatter of the boys toget the side of the story he wanted to hear.
"It seems," he commented, "that Billy and I were not in the same classthis time with these trouble hunters."
"Do you suppose that there is anything left of our biplane?"
Henri had taken on the air of a sea captain who had lost his ship.
"That is an important question," said Roque, "There is only one fitmate to that craft in this part of the country."
Fortunately for the preservation of good feeling, Roten did not hearthis latter statement.
It was necessary to detail two corporal aviators to take the woundedcaptain back to army headquarters, where he could have the skilledsurgical attention that would hasten his recovery.
As the invalid was lifted into the machine that was to do ambulanceservice, he gave a hand each to Henri and Schneider.
"From my heart I thank you both," were his last words in profoundlyearnest farewell.
Henri traveled as a passenger with Billy and Roque in the brief journeyto the forest station in the pass where it was hoped to find intact thestranded biplane.
Schneider, who had been given a lift by Roten in the trip, was in highglee when it developed that the No. 3, behind its screen of bushes, hadsustained no damage.
"See that?" The big fellow held aloft the rabbit's foot. "There's nojinx that can beat it."
Roque was delighted to learn, as the aerial expedition proceeded, thatone of his cherished desires had matured--a large German contingenthad arrived to support the determined effort of the Austrian forces torelieve the Przemysl fortress.
He had made up his mind that it was well worth the risk to carry backthe new word of hope to the hemmed in garrison, and Roten was informedof his purpose.
"I regret that you must quit us, Mr. Roque," said the aviation chief,"but it's the big thing you are going to do, and I certainly wish thebest for your undertaking. Let me advise, however, that not a screwshould be loose when you make that dash. You can't fall in that countrynow without bumping a Russian."
"I'll back my boys to make the riffle," confidently asserted Roque.
"They'll need the keen eye every inch of the way," persisted Roten.
"We came out safely, and I guess we can repeat," declared the secretagent.
"Well, good-bye, sir, and look out for the big guns at Malkovista; theRussians are there now, and it's only three miles from Przemysl."
"We've come into our own again." Billy and Henri were standingtogether, viewing with satisfaction the graceful lines of the No. 3's,every part adjusted to a nicety. Both boys were well aware that theywere to run a through express.
Schneider had been supplied by a brother aviator with a new outfit offirearms, and, as usual, was spoiling for an uproar.
"Going, going, gone." His imitation of an auctioneer was excellent, andwith this send-off the biplanes bolted for Przemysl.
The pilots themselves knew the route this time, and they sent thebiplanes over the course at sixty miles an hour.
Three times they were over the fire of long-range guns, but too highfor harm.
Settling in the fortress enclosure, their initial greeting came fromStanislaws.
"Here's a cure for sore eyes."
This delighted individual capered around the welcome incomers like adancing master.
The garrison received with acclaim the news that Roque conveyed.
They had been advised in a general way by wireless from the nearestAustrian point of the upcoming of the German reinforcements, and thisconfirmation in person and in detail added to the enthusiasm created bythe first report.
"Now, boys," said Roque to his pilots, the next evening, "I am seekinga sight of the gray lines again, and there's another hard flight instore for you. So get a good night's rest. We start at daybreak."
Facing a bitter, biting wind, the aviators left Przemysl at dawn, andwhen they, numbed but undaunted, finally reached the far-away Germanlines it was a battle front that they crossed. There the atmospherewas being warmed by gunpowder flashes, and below was burning petrol,thawing out the ground that the troops might dig themselves in.
Before the entrenchments, in wide range, combined forces of Austriansand Germans were locked in a life and death struggle with Russiancontenders for the possession of Warsaw--a bloody repetition in onespot of the never ending conflict.
Though completing a continuous flight of seven hours, the aviators werethere offered no temptation to alight. Hovering over the banks of theBzura they saw a German cavalry detachment all but totally destroyedby the exploding of a Russian mine, and in turn the big guns of theGermans cut wide swathes in the Muscovite ranks.
Schneider cheered or groaned as the tide of battle swept forward andback, when victory favored or defeat menaced his comrades in the fray.The firebrand, in every quivering fiber, madly craved the chance tobrave the shot and shell on the blackened battlefield.
He saw a German color bearer go down in the press of a hand-to-handconflict, and as the mass was dissolved by artillery fire, thatone still figure, among the many scattered in the open, presentedirresistible appeal to the soldier-aviator.
"Land me, boy--have you the red blood to do it? Have you the courage,lad? You have, I know. Do it, lad--do it now!"
With his incoherent address, the big observer spasmodically clutchedthe shoulders of the young pilot.
Carried away by the vehement pleading of the man behind him, Henri setthe planes for a straight fall.
Schneider bounded from the skimming machine, made it the work of a fewseconds to reach the flag, which the dead man had wrapped around hisbody, and as quickly returned.
The powerful motors drove the biplane up and across the field, withthe colors trailing over the shoulders of the observer, who, in hisexcitement, sang a mighty war song.
This deed of daring, directly in view of the trenches, and under thevery eye of the German commander and staff, raised a tremendous cheer.
Of all this Schneider seemed oblivious. His was a blind patriotism.
Roque wore a look of mild reproach when he encountered Henri behind thelines that nig
ht, but he could not resist the prompting of forgivingadmiration when Schneider stood before him in attitude of apology.
"Had no orders, of course, boss, but something stuck to my crazybone,and everything went."
"You will have something stuck on the breast of your coat, or I am verymuch mistaken," said Roque, extending his hand, which Schneider graspedwith fervor.
That "something" was to be the Iron Cross, the famous decoration forvalorous service, and the most coveted distinction in the Germanempire, a badge of courage woven into its military history.
"Were this boy a soldier of and for the Fatherland," solemnly continuedRoque, "the royal gift might well be bestowed upon him."
Schneider threw an arm around the shoulders of the young aviator. "Ofnothing else is he lacking to claim the honor," feelingly maintainedthe big fellow, and his eyes were moist as he spoke.
Henri shook his head. Then with a roguish glance at his chum, he said:
"The only medal I am hankering after is the one Billy and I areexpecting for making the first aeroplane flight across the Atlantic."
"Have the 'made in Germany' mark on your machine and I believe you canestablish the record," laughed Roque.
"Not on your life," exclaimed Billy. "We are going to build thecrossing craft ourselves."
The No. 3's were lying idle behind the lines. Roque had ceasedoverground work for the time being, and like a mole was engaged in someundermining scheme, of which the boys had no inkling.
Resorting to his remarkable aptitude as a lightning change artist,and also applying the magic touch to Schneider, the pair of them werescarcely recognizable to even the lads with whom they had been so longand so closely associated.
The secret agent and his trusty lieutenant were masquerading as nativesof Russian Poland, and it may be told that their desperate mission wasto enter Warsaw, where the slightest indiscretion or betrayal would putthem in graves alongside of that daring spy of Roque's who failed toconceal his identity.
It was the midnight hour when Billy was awakened by a man envelopedfrom neck to foot in a grayish-brown overcoat, from under the head capeof which came the voice of Roque:
"Take this" (slipping a fold of coarse paper into the hand of thedrowsy lad), "and if you do not hear from me after three days, readwhat is written, and follow the instructions to the letter. Not a lookat the message, remember, for three days; to be exact, the morning ofthe fourth day. You hear me?" Billy sleepily nodded his head.
Out on the turbid tide of the yellow river beyond the German trenchestwo shrouded figures silently launched a flatboat and drifted away inthe darkness.
"What's doing?" This was Henri's morning question, preceding a swallowof coffee.
"If I knew what was in here I could probably tell you a whole lot thatI don't know at present."
Billy displayed the closely folded packet containing Roque'sinstructions.
When Henri was advised of the conditions imposed he accepted the trustas a matter of course.
It had never been a habit of the boys to break faith.
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Germany; or, Winning the Iron Cross Page 20
