Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Russia; or, Lost on the Frozen Steppes

by Horace Porter

  CHAPTER X.

  HUNTING FOR TROUBLE.

  The sun was ten o'clock high when Billy hoisted himself with his elbowsand realized that Henri and himself had been singularly favored by theusually exacting aviation chief, who tolerated no lazybones aroundquarters.

  "Hi there, sleepy head," he called to his chum, who was still drawinglong breath through a wide-open mouth.

  "Hold your peace," growled Henri, turning for another snooze.

  But Billy, now wide awake, and in frolicsome mood, had his comrade outof bed by the heels, and it was not until they had knocked over abouteverything in the room that they desisted from their riotous wrestling.

  "Blame your gaiety," panted Henri; "why couldn't you let a fellow rest?"

  "You'd be a Rip Van Winkle if you had half a show," guyed Billy.

  In more serious turn the boys went out to look at the picture above thestair landing, to see if any telltale strap of the concealed belt wasshowing. Nothing, however, to betray their secret to the curious eye wasin evidence.

  "A good job for a dark night," observed Billy, going down the stairway,two steps at a time.

  "All the grub gone?" he inquired of Corporal Romeroff, on mess duty.

  The latter grinned, and showed the boys two well-filled platters on anear-by table.

  "The chief is a first-rate boss," was the enthusiastic expression ofHenri, between attacks on the provisions.

  "None better," admitted Billy, sitting back from the table, with a sighof repletion.

  "What's the program for to-day?" queried Henri, "seeing that we arefreelances for a while?"

  "I've just been thinking that I'd like to know for sure whether or notRicker got out of town."

  "Say, Buddy," broke in Henri, "I don't believe we had better toy withthat buzz-saw again."

  "Only a bit of scouting, old pal," wheedled Billy, "a sort of look overand not in. I confess that my bump of curiosity is not growing less as Igrow older."

  "Oh, well, let it go at that," agreed Henri, with an air of resignation."Maybe it wasn't intended that we should live long enough to wearcarpet-slippers."

  The boys strolled to the square of the memorial column, and halted at apoint directly opposite the shop of the silversmith. The front of theestablishment was sealed by closed shutters.

  "Evidently nobody at home," said Billy; "and, really," he added, "Ididn't expect there would be."

  "How do you know but what the old fox is still in his den and not usingthe front entrance?"

  "If I were guessing," replied Billy, "it would be that Ricker has longsince crossed the river. Yet I wouldn't mind finding out for certain."

  "There it is," commented Henri; "I knew you wouldn't be satisfied to letwell enough alone. Come on, then; let's look in the alligator's throatto see if he has teeth."

  "Easy now, pard," chided Billy; "there is nothing rash in my mind atthis moment. If a little closer view doesn't serve the purpose we willjust be ladies and ask a policeman."

  Crossing the street, the lads tried the shop door. It stood as tight aswax.

  A passerby tried to tell the boys something, but gave it up in despairwhen they looked as blank as a person stone deaf.

  "Why didn't you add the Slavonic to your language list, young man?"

  Billy shook his finger at Henri in mock severity.

  "You've no room to call me down in that regard," retorted the Frenchboy.

  "True enough, pal," apologized Billy; "it's only a case of two babes inthe woods in Russia instead of one."

  Between the silversmith's shop and the next adjoining building, awarehouse, apparently deserted, was a narrow, covered walk, running backand the full apparent length of both structures.

  Billy, evidently forgetting his original determination not to cross theline of discretion, started to explore this cul-de-sac, this passageopen only at one end.

  His chum accepted the inevitable and doubled up with the leader.

  "It's an even bet that we will be yanked up for attempted burglary," hegloomily predicted.

  "Here's about the point, I think," mused Billy, "where we lay behindthat revolving door; that is, providing we were now inside."

  "Well, what of it?" impatiently demanded Henri. "We certainly don'tintend to break in to prove your deduction."

  Billy had no response for this. He was curiously examining a postern, ordoor, in the wall cutting off the vaulted passage.

  "Wonder if there is a combination to this thing?" He put the question tothe test, closely inspecting every panel in the door from top to bottom.

  "Old thumbs up surely had a way of getting through from this side,"continued the Bangor boy, "and it was not by key, either--no sign of akeyhole anywhere."

  The mechanician in Henri was aroused. The door puzzle was something inhis particular line. With no less interest now than that displayed byhis comrade, the expert began tapping up and down the solid surface withthe haft of his pocket-knife.

  Directly he turned a bright eye and a complacent smile upon theinterested Billy.

  "Nothing to it at all, Buddy," he advised, putting his hand on one ofthe little iron plates that studded the doorway in two rows from jamb tohinges. "The hollow is behind this one. See?" Henri illustrated by thumbpressure on the edge of the metal disc, which turned upward, exposing toview a steel ring slightly more than finger size.

  Without waiting for further demonstration, Billy promptly tried a pullon the hoop in the hole. It was lost motion, for the ring had no forwardgive to it. An experimental push, also, was without result.

  "Turn it," was Henri's rather impatient suggestion.

  That was the trick that drew the bolt. The boys heard the click of thehidden spring, and so sudden was the giving of the barrier that Billy,using an arm prop against it, went in like a diver. The recoil wasequally speedy, and Henri saved himself a shutout by using his foot as apreventing wedge.

  With both boys inside, the postern closed behind them without a sound.The passage here was so narrow that it enforced single file proceedings.At the right was the wall of the silversmith's shop, to the left thebarred windows of the warehouse. The structures might have been housesof the dead for all the signs of occupancy then shown.

  Billy was uncertain in his mind as to the first tackle of the mysterythat he had conjured to while away an idle hour. He was not particularlyanxious to run afoul of Ricker and his hairy retainer. Indeed, had heglimpsed the heads of either of them in window or doorway it would havebeen back to the square for him, and if there was any talking to bedone, that conversation would have to be exchanged in the open.

  But it was just that bump of curiosity, of which Henri had more thanonce jokingly said "could only be reduced by a smash with a sandbag."

  Billy's conclusion favored further exploration of the vaulted walk,which no doubt had been originally designed simply as an air shaft, andlater converted to some other use. It was the latter supposition thatappealed to the would-be explorer.

  With continued progress between the walls, the boys marked gradualdescent, becoming more pronounced at every step. Then the path curvedabruptly and ended at the base of a tower-like brick chimney, builtoutside of the warehouse wall and making the first opening in thehitherto overlapping cornices of the buildings running parallel.

  "The silversmith's shop is considerable of a bluff when you come tocompare the known front with the unknown rear," remarked Billy, who hadbeen mentally figuring the distance from street to postern, and frompostern to this chimney obstruction.

  "It has just occurred to me that Ricker must have been in charge of thewhole block. The way it looks, all the rest around here have marched offto war."

  Henri had no proof up to the minute that the warehouse was or ever hadbeen a hive of industry.

  "Come here, pal," called Billy, who had stepped from the front to theside of the chimney base; "I believe there's a way to get to thebasement of this old shack."

  His discovery was
a rusty grating set in the floor close to the foot ofthe chimney, and it was surprising how easily it could be moved.

  "For our special convenience," chuckled the Bangor boy, when he noted anumber of iron spikes protruding from the masonry in order for descent.

  "The same sort of fire escape arrangement runs up the chimney; didn'tyou notice?" asked Henri.

  "But that's for the lookout, pard; I tell you this is a bully plant inwhich to prowl. But let's go below now and aloft later."

  Billy was already legging it, spike to spike, into the depths of the oldwarehouse.