Air Service Boys Flying for Victory; Or, Bombing the Last German Stronghold

by E. J. Craine

  CHAPTER XIX

  TOM LEADS THE WAY

  "SEE anything yet, Jack?" asked Tom, after the air service boys had beenmoving along for a brief time, often so close to the top of the ridgethat they could make out the character of the trees growing there.

  "Not a thing, Tom. I hope now we haven't made a wrong play, and all thiswhile kept running away from the place."

  "No danger of that," and Tom's confident way of saying this gave Jackconsiderable peace of mind. "There's the river, and we can easily seewhich way it runs, and this is the left bank all right. We ought tostrike that break any minute now. The Lorrainer told me it lay just onthe other side of the gap."

  "And it seems that some small stream comes through the ridge by way ofthat valley and joins the Meuse there, you said. But if we don't make arise pretty soon I'm afraid our goose will be cooked. That little amountof petrol left isn't going to last much longer."

  "Hold your horses, and don't cross a bridge before you come to it. Rightnow I believe I can see something ahead that looks like a dip in theridge. The chances are it's going to be that gap the man told about."

  On hearing this news Jack strained his eyesight more than ever, and soongave tongue again. No need of using his novel little wireless outfitwhen the engine was purring so softly and the propellers were revolvingjust fast enough to keep the plane moving slowly.

  "As usual, you're right about that dip. It's there sure enough; andalready I more than half believe I can make out something perched on theridge beyond that's likely to be our chateau."

  "Then we've got to be on the lookout for a landing-place," announced thepilot. "It would hardly do to run smack up close to the place. Some ofthem might happen to be awake, and the sound of our machine would bringthem out to investigate. We're taking enough chances as it is, withoutthat."

  So he went still lower, just creeping along as it were, and both of themeagerly watched for an open spot.

  Tom even circled so as to come down near the low ground at the foot ofthe ridge. No doubt they would have a far better chance to run across alanding-place there than where the ground was rocky and moreprecipitous. They had also to bear in mind that it would be necessary tomake an ascent later on, if all went well; which must require a certainamount of ground level enough to make the preliminary run.

  After all it was Jack who made the discovery, Tom's attention being inpart taken up with the requirements necessary to his function as pilot.

  "There, I saw what looked like a decent spot, Tom--we just passed it byon the right. Try to turn around, and we'll look it over again as we go.Seemed plenty big enough, I thought, though I'd like to have a secondpeep before we decide to try to land."

  This time Tom, too, used his eyes to good advantage, and hardly had theyswung past before Jack was asking, in rather subdued tones now:

  "How about it, Tom? Think we can make the riffle all right, in this poorlight?"

  Tom did not hesitate to answer this important question.

  "I'm willing to try, Jack. If we're carrying our usual luck we'll landso easy we could hardly break an egg between us. Be ready for your partof the game now."

  Jack waited, with his nerves all a-tremble. He knew that everything mustdepend on Tom's success in effecting a safe landing. Any breakage mightupset all their plans, and possibly result in their ultimate capture bythe Huns; for when morning came they would have to expose themselves inseeking food, and once they were identified as Americans they would soonbe run down.

  If ever Tom had reason to exert himself to the utmost in order to make asafe landing, it was then. He came up in the face of what little breezewas stirring, just as a bird invariably alights against the wind, andnot with it.

  Jack held his breath. Nearer and still nearer they dropped. Now he feltthe rubber-tired wheels under the plane strike the ground lightly. Theywere actually rolling along, jolting more or less, it was true, butnothing so very unusual after all.

  With a slight jar the plane came to a sudden stop. Jack, who had freedhimself from his safety belt in preparation for this moment, was overlike a flash; but although there was a slight slant to the ground theplane displayed no inclination to run backwards.

  "Beautifully done," Jack hastened to say.

  "Not so loud!" cautioned the other. "We don't know where we are yet, yousee. Here's green grass around us, and trees close by. It may be someback dooryard to a house, for all we can tell."

  "You just grazed the top of that last tree, Tom--the weeping willowykind of one over there--but it had to be done to make the landing.Where do we go from here?"

  Perhaps that phrase fell naturally from Jack's lips, for he had beensinging a song with those identical words earlier on that very evening,with some of his rollicking companions at the Y. M. C. A. hut.

  "As soon as we can get our bearings we want to find a road," his chumexplained.

  "Sure thing. And there ought to be one around, else how would folks getup to that chateau?" Jack demanded. "I suppose we'll have to see afterthe supply of gas the first thing."

  "That was settled beforehand," came the reply. "Now we ought to get ourbearings down pat before leaving the old bus here."

  "It would be a bad joke on us for a fact, Tom, if we wandered off, andthen after picking up a few gallons of petrol--even one, if it came downto that quantity, would serve--and then couldn't for the life of us findwhere we left the plane. Yes, let's skirmish around, and locate thingsin our minds."

  Accordingly they started to move to the right, gradually widening thecircle they made around the plane resting on the open grassy stretch ofground.

  "Now we've got to the trees, you notice," said Tom. "Once we pass themby, I think we'll come out on a road which will lead away from here."

  Jack clutched his companion by the arm just then, and in an agitatedwhisper hurriedly said:

  "What can those queer white things be over there, Tom? I can see many ofthem. They're squatting close down to the ground mostly; but there's oneor two that stand up higher. Ugh! they look like ghosts to me in thishalf darkness. Can you make out whether or not they move?"

  The other chuckled almost immediately.

  "This is certainly a queer stunt for us, Jack," he said. "I've managedto make a landing in a good many outlandish places in times gone by, butthis is the first time I ever dropped plump down in a graveyard!"

  "What's that? And, say! are those white things gravestones? Well, Ibelieve you're right. I can see now they're perfectly motionless. Thejoke's on me, I reckon. But I'm glad they are harmless old stones, andnot anything to make the creeps go over a fellow."

  Tom could hear Jack draw a long breath as he said this, from which hejudged that his chum had had something of a shock. Closer inspectionproved the truth of Tom's assertion. They were gravestones, mostly of avery modest type, and resting close to the ground. Here and there,however, one more pretentious raised its head some five or six feethigh.

  Better still, they came upon what seemed to be a road running throughthe country cemetery that, if followed, would undoubtedly take them tothe one leading up to the chateau perched on the ridge above.

  "Must be some sort of old French village around this neighborhood,"observed Jack. "Many of these stones are partly covered with moss, as ifthey were terribly old. But then this may be a private burial place forthe family that once lived for years and years in that big castle."

  "That's nothing to us just now," Tom reminded him. "What we'reinterested in is whether this road will lead us up there, and if we canmake sure of finding our plane again when we come back. Remember thateverything will be just the opposite; what's right to us now will be onthe left then."

  "Oh, I learned that dodge long ago when I took up the study ofwoodcraft," Jack announced confidently. "Can't fool me on a littlewrinkle like that, if I know it."

  "Come along, and we'll make a start," Tom urged.

  "Feels to me just as if we were two of those old-time crusaders,starting out to rescue a Christian maiden from the S
aracens. Only in ourcase the girl is a mite of six, with a twin sister just breaking herbaby heart over her loss."

  "Stop firing," said Tom, with a vein of authority in his voice; causingthe talkative Jack to remember that there were times when silence couldbe called "golden."

  "I'm dumb as a clam, Tom," he announced; and probably really meant it,so far as a limited time went. But if anything at all out of theordinary happened Jack could no more help whispering than he could giveup eating and expect to live.

  But even Tom felt that there was considerable truth in that assertionmade by his chum. They were engaged in a most peculiar errand, thoughactuated by motives that did them both credit. And as they stolecarefully along the country road heading toward the foot of the ridgeupon which the old partly wrecked French chateau stood, both boysrealized more than ever what chances they were accepting in making thisbold move.