In a trice Blaine was rising in the air. The feeling that he had again his old machine was reassuring. It put new life into his nearly restored vitality.
With Buck Bangs a close second and Orris Erwin right behind him, the leading planes spiraled into the air, with the advancing Boches hardly two miles away, their bombs dropping as they flew.
Byers himself was getting into his own plane, a two-seated affair equipped with two machine guns. With him was his own observer, an excellent photographer and airman. The two opposing squadrons were about equal. Dividing into two columns, with Blaine heading one and Captain Byers the other, they bore directly off toward the enemy.
Such a start had the Boches gotten, by somehow missing the Allied planes that were supposed to be picketing the front, that a direct attack was inevitable. Up or down they rose or fell, each plane singling out its opponent, and each maneuvering for position. It was here that the superior speed and nimbleness of the Allied triplanes was soon apparent.
Byers in his big biplane made straight for the leading plane opposed to him and presently the rattle of machine gun fire interplayed with the whirring sounds of the motors, while the diving, flipping, looping, with all the other air stunts of sky battling, made the scene so interesting to those below that the adjacent bomb-proofs were hardly thought of.
On a small knoll the American senator and his two daughters, glasses in hand, were watching, listening, semi-oblivious as to any possible danger to themselves. Finally a spatter of bullets and shell fragments roused the father to a sense that more than himself might be in the line of fire at any moment.
"This won't do, girls!" he announced in peremptory tones. "Get into that shelter!" pointing at a half underground dugout near. "Run, run!"
Avella, without lowering her glass, replied:
"In just a minute, papa. See Mr. Blaine! My! What's he doing to that other horrid fellow?"
Blaine was at the instant trying to got on the tail of a big Taube, not unlike the one Blaine and Erwin had captured and used while on an earlier scout, as may be recalled by the reader. What accentuated Blaine's eagerness was the glimpse he caught of that Death's Head Flag, which had also adorned the former captured machine. But the Boche within this one was an adept and so maneuvered that Blaine, to save himself from an onset from behind, was obliged to try the risky side-loop, much to the surprise of the other. For Blaine, while upside down, was already firing at his opponent, and as he rose was directly on the tail. But to the girls below it looked as if Blaine was already crashing towards the earth. Andra gave a nervous scream. Avella was shocked, of course, but had her glass the next instant upon Buck Bangs, at that moment engaged in a fierce duel with two enemy opponents.
"Look! Look!" called Andra. "He's falling — ah-h-h!" This last word was long drawn out during which, to her intense joy, Blaine had righted himself and was behind and below the other plane. Now she could see the spitting of lire as he plugged bullets and shrapnel into his astonished opponent.
Scarcely did she breathe again before the Taube, its Death's Head Flag collapsing about its staff, was tumbling down, almost over them. At the same time one of the Huns battling with Bangs was hit in the tank by a rain of bullets from Byers' machine which was striving to rise above and behind the foe the captain had singled out for himself.
Down went this one of Buck's opponents in flames. Both planes fell just without the grounds, while the battle above filtered away towards the German front, the invaders evidently having gotten enough. Two other enemy planes were retiring in a crippled condition, all pursued by the Allies, who had so far lost only one machine.
The Senator, seeing little heed paid by his daughters to his commands, was seized by the spirit of the combat and recklessly hurried off towards the nearest wrecked plane that had fallen. The girls, with others, followed.
It was a sad sight. This machine, the wings still burning, lay in a confused huddle over a crushed human body that still gave signs of life. It was the plane that Byers bad sent down in flames.
Aided by men from the aerodrome, they extinguished the fire with a ready hose, the Senator and the girls assisting. Carefully they dragged out a horribly mutilated yet youthful form. A surgeon, with the girls aiding, tried to alleviate the, pain of the dying man. His lips moved.
"What's he trying to say, Vella?" demand the Senator. "You know someGerman, don't you?"
"Sounds like 'Schwein, Schwein!' Doesn't that mean pigs, papa?"
"It sure does! There, he's talking again!"
The girls listened, but could not understand; while the surgeon, formerly an intern at one of the New York hospitals, smiled pityingly.
"Poor fellow!" he volunteered. "He's not complimentary."
"What's he saying now? Sounds like American — then something else."
"He says, 'Amerikaner-all swine-pigs,' and a lot more."
They drew back somewhat; but the girls whose sympathy predominated, continued to minister to his needs until the last breath announced that one more Boche had gone to his account.
It was an hour or so before the rest of the squadron again appeared. With them were the scouting planes that had been wished for when the enemy squadron so suddenly appeared. In the fights over the German trenches another of our planes had somehow vanished. No one could say further except that Erwin, the missing pilot, had been seen mounting high up amid a scurry of clouds, with two pursuing Fokkers on his heels.
Blaine and Bangs were in the midst of hearty congratulations from many, including Senator Walsen and his daughters, when the news was brought to them.
They had just alighted and were standing beside their machines.Instantly Blaine turned to Buck, saying:
"You and your machine all right, Buck?"
Andra, at this, regarded Lafe closely.
"I'm O. K. and so is my bully little Nieuport. Say, old man, we've got to go out and see what's gone wrong with that little snipe Orry, eh?"
" Sure thing! Orry is a good fellow. I'm with you."
The next instant Blaine was back in his seat. He turned to the mechanic who had just finished examining the machine.
"Fill up the tank, Bill," he said. "And hand me out a few more sheaves of ammunition. Sure you've got enough, too, Buck?"
"Do you — do you — you don't mean that you two are going up again?" queried Andra, and for an instant Blaine detected something about her that betokened a more than casual interest.
"It's my — it's our duty to go, Miss Walsen," said he, meeting her eyes sympathetically. "Erwin is one of our best men. He's a true spad pilot. Besides that, he and I are great cronies. Buck feels the same way."
"Oh, I — I think I understand." But she spoke with a certain repressed agitation. If Lafe had been less se1f-conscious he would have understood and doubtless felt flattered.
As it was, he turned to Bangs, the Montana lad, now also seated in his pilot's place, with Avella on the other side saying something. He heard Bangs reiterate:
"Oh, sure, Miss Vella! We'll be careful — very careful — you bet! I'm only too anxious to get back with Orry and see more of you two girls. I say, Senator," to the father now looking approvingly on, "this lost pilot is one of our best. He's a turnip — a real joker! We can't go back on him."
"I guess you are right, Mr. Bangs. If you and your friends do return to us, I will see that you all have leave to run back to Paris and at least take dinner with us at our hotel."
By this time the two young nurses were standing back, watching the scene with the frank mien that American girls view something which they regret, yet at the same time admire. Then up came Captain Byers hurriedly, calling out:
"Are you lads going? That's plucky! I was about to dispatch some one. We cannot afford to lose Erwin. He's too valuable, and I know he'd do the same by you!"
"You bet, Captain!" This from Buck as his machine trundled off, propelled by two mechanics until it rose. "That was bully the way you busted that chap in the tank. He might have got me, else."
Blaine was already in the air, with Bangs a close second. A moment later and they were climbing rapidly, so rapidly that soon they looked like two great birds winging their way over the Allied front and across No-Man's-Land into the dark beyond. Blaine's observer, Stanley, was also in his seat behind.
When the two girls finally reached their quarters that night at the small inn in the adjacent village they were both dispirited. The Senator was writing letters while the girls were preparing for the evening meal.
"Funny, isn't it, how we seem to be interested in those lads?" saidAndra. "I think that young Blaine is just splendid."
"He is no better than Mr. Bangs." This from Avella. "Just think, Buck is from Butte! Why, that is right next door to us in Idaho."
Then they both sighed, looked queerly at each other and finally embraced and kissed. If both were somewhat smitten over the looks and conduct of these aviators, acquaintances of only a few days, certainly their stately father as yet could hardly suspect.
After the evening meal was over, they cunningly tried to persuade him to go with them down to the aerodrome to see if anything had occurred there. Probably the boys had not yet returned. The Senator doubted if they had.
"Look here, girls," said be, after being told that he was needed as an escort, "why are you so interested? They'll come back all right. And I am busy."
"Well, papa, said Avella, "we'd feel better to go down and inquire."
"Yes, daddy dear! You must go with us, please!"
The upshot of all this was as usual. The Senator went.
At the station they found Captain Byers returning from an observation post where he had been scanning the eastern heavens in a last effort to discern something of the absent planes that had long since vanished over No-Man's-Land into the unknown void beyond, which was enemy country.
"I am afraid for those lads," said he to the Senator after greeting all three. "They are both too risky at times, and they were much stirred up over Erwin's long absence. Great friends they were, too."
The Senator and the girls expressed concern. Especially so was it with the sisters, both of whom grew pale as they listened. Perhaps they were pleased that owing to the darkness this manifestation of inward concern was hidden from the others. They quietly pressed each other's hands.
Just then an orderly came up on the run, his night glasses in hand.
"Oh, Captain," said he, "there's a plane returning. I couldn't make it out clearly. It sags a bit is if it was crippled, sir."
"Wait for me, Senator," called Byers, starting out almost on the run, his night glasses again out. The orderly followed rapidly.
"Let us follow them, father," urged Andra, while Avella tugged at her sister's arm, sure that the Senator would go too. "Come on, papa."
Both girls were off, while the Senator came after, though at a slower pace.
Reaching the observation post — merely a platform erected on the highest elevation near by, they saw the captain and the orderly both scanning the eastern skies through their night glasses, instruments of the latest design. To the girls' nothing was as yet was visible but the stars now shining dimly through a thin haze that hung over h landscape.
"Let us go up. Papa will follow." This from Andra as they climbed the steps to the little platform where the two aviators were scanning the upper air.
From the disjointed remarks of the airmen the realized that something was in sight, yet hardly visible to the naked eye. At last, however, came a gasp from one of the girls who pointed eagerly to the other.
"Don't you see it?" exclaimed Andra. "Where are your eyes? My! It's sagging downward. I wonder —'
Here Avella interrupted with a slight scream as she too, caught sight of a faint, filmy something that was teetering slowly down, but not in straight lines as is usual when planes are descending in the regular methods employed by aviators when striving to reach a certain landing.
"What is the matter with it?" queried Andra to any one within hearing.
"That you, ladies?" Byers turned suddenly, then his eyes sought his glass again. "Why, it is quite evident that the machine is a Fokker and disabled. He'll make it all right, I guess."
"That is a German machine, isn't it?" asked Avella anxiously.
"Mightn't it be a hostile one?" queried Andra.
"The plane is of hostile make, Miss Walsen, but the chap inside is one of us, you may be sure. There! I fear he is going to drop."
Byers, followed by the orderly, was already running down the steps, almost colliding with the Senator who arrived at this moment. After the two aviators hurried the girls, meeting their father, and telling him what was occurring.
"And Captain Byers said that airman was about to drop - or fall out; I don't know which." This from Andra. "Let us hurry after them, father, and see what has happened."
Senator Walsen, evidently used to these sudden whims on the part of his daughters, turned and followed them, still in pursuit of the captain. If he objurgated the haste, he did it silently.
By the time the girls caught up with Byers, what had been a trim airplane came thumping to the ground not more than two hundred yards off in an unused corner of the big enclosure, its wings a mere mass of tattered rags, its body riddled by many perforations of machine gun bullets, fragments of shrapnel and so on. It was a marvel how it had stayed up for so long, but it happened that neither the engine nor petrol tank were vitally harmed.
Still lashed to his seat, his arms hanging loosely, his head resting on the rim of the small manhole, was the pilot, to all appearances lifeless or else in a swoon. It was Stanley, Blaine's observation man.
In the meantime, what had become of the two adventurous planes with their occupants that had so blithely started out in search of the still missing pilot and friend? Whither had their search carried them? How was it that of the three who went forth only one had come back, perhaps lifeless or barely alive, and in a German machine!
Verily in this new warfare of the air strange are the daily happenings on that fated West Front; nor can anybody foretell what stranger things may happen than have happened before, even to the best pilots of them all.
During the air fighting when the Boches were sent back in retreat, with some of their best planes missing, Erwin, after sending one already half crippled Fokker crashing to earth, took after another German. This last was a huge biplane manned by two men, one of whom lay collapsed in his seat. The remaining pilot seemed bewildered. Already the plane had received various punctures, though not sufficient to prevent further flying.
"No use to let that chap get away," reflected Orris. "He's lost his observer, and his wings are in bad shape. Our fellows can attend to the rest of these Boches. We've got 'em whipped anyway."
Up, up went the German, with Erwin following, trying to circle round into position to use his machine gun. But this was not easy. The biplane, though crippled, was of such power and speed that it easily kept well ahead of its pursuer who was yet far below. In fact, when an altitude of several thousand feet was attained, the greater buoyancy of the air at this stage was an aid to the half defeated foe. His vast spread of double wings made it difficult for Orris, with his greater motor power and reduced spread of planes, to much more than neutralize their relative positions.
Straight into the northeast fled the German. After him came Erwin, still below and striving to get onto his adversary's tail. But despite all he could do, it failed to bring him within the proper distance for direct attack.
"That is be up to now?" wondered the youth, for the Boche was half rising in his seat, as if trying to lift something behind. "Hullo! Blame me if he ain't trying to oust his dead mate!"
This was exactly what the Boche pilot was trying to do. But for some reason, not at first apparent, the man had difficulties. At last, by letting go with both hands of wheel and controls, half turning in his seat, Erwin saw him lift up the body of the observer and attempt to fling it overboard. But even that was hindered for a moment, and in a way that filled the watchful American with horror and disgust.
Already the seemingly inanimate body was sliding over the sloping side of the car, when Orris saw a hand stretch forth, seize the pilot's extended arm and hang thus, half dangling over the side, the legs kicking feebly.
"Why, his mate's alive!" almost shouted the American, more shaken by this exhibition than anything that had hitherto happened to him in his short but risky campaign along the West Front.
"Hey, there! You beast — you villain!" Almost insanely Erwin was shouting, for he was convulsed by a fury that made him for the time being oblivious to the fact that he was too far away to be heard by any one but himself.
For another instant the half alive man hung on, then was shaken loose. Down he came, passing rather close to the scouting pursuer, his arms and legs still working convulsively, and so on down to his inevitable fate. By this time, and while Erwin was recovering, the big biplane had recovered and was shooting eastward as before though with accelerated speed, being now relieved of much of its former dead weight.
Still grinding his teeth, Orris shot after the foe, determined more than ever to overtake and have it out with the inhuman beast, now alone in his flight to safety but a mile ahead.
All thought of immediate return to his own lines was lost, at least until he could wreak vengeance on the man who had just shown such inhumanity towards his own comrade and countryman.
"Curse him!" still objurgated the youth. "It would be bad enough if it was a foe — one of us that was aboard that cursed craft!" Orris expelled a deep breath, while he put on all the power his speedy plane would stand. "I'll get him even if the Boches got me!"
From the course followed by the biplane Erwin knew that he was already well to the northward of the point of his own return, provided he was able to make the trip back in safety. Also it was clear that they were now well over the rear German trenches and not very far from where Belgian territory bordered on that part of northern France — now so long held by the foe.
So swift and fast did Erwin go that the transient aid afforded by casting over the still living observer was soon more than neutralized. The boy was almost within easy range.
"Just a little further and I'll get him." So ran Erwin's thought. "But I mustn't waste ammunition. There's no knowing when or where I'll need all I've got. Curse that beast! He shall die or I'll know the reason why, even if I get into a narrow squeeze myself."
At last he felt that he might begin. He was on the tail of the biplane, though underneath. To his gratification he also saw that in nimble activity he was now the superior. And in close fighting it is the nimble, ducking, dodging, twisting machine that usually has certain advantage.
Pointing upward, he began to rain bullets and shrapnel into the fleeing German, his Lewis gun working automatically, and with such precision that the German shot off at right angles, dived, and strove to come up underneath his assailant. But he was too slow. After the dive, as the biplane came up in reverse position Erwin, prepared for this, half wheeled, and shot obliquely downward, pointed straight at his adversary. While he darted at a two-mile-a-minute pace, the deadly Lewis again began vomiting its flaming death straight at the man seated amidships, who was frantically trying to train his own gun on the advancing foe.
On came the scouting plane from five hundred yards to less than two hundred, almost while one drew an average breath. Evidently the German misunderstood. He thought that the now reckless foe, casting discretion to the wind, was bent upon something desperate. But — what? Again and again he tried to train his own gun on the American, but the latter kept edging just out of range, while at the same time he drew near, nearer.
At last, when within fifty yards, Erwin let him have it. While his Lewis was spitting forth a continuous fire, by some method not at once comprehended by the other, Erwin ranged alongside, still at a distance where he was free from air suction, and literally riddled that big plane with holes. After a spattering fire that did no harm, the German abandoned the gun and strove to nosedive, always a rather risky proceeding in such a big plane when haste is apt to neutralize efficiency.
Instead of presenting a slanting pair of wings, the big machine was tipped in such a way as to present for a minute, its whole under side to Erwin's view.
It was the critical moment. With feet on controls, and one hand on the wheel, the lad managed to pour a continuous volley of those leaden hailstones squarely into the entrails of the foe. Then up he climbed, at almost lightning speed, and as he came to dancing level off the German's tail, out from the sagging biplane pitched another human body, this time not the murdered, but the murderer.
"Good riddance!" almost gasped Erwin. "He's gone to hell, where he and his like belong! But — what's this? Glory! His tank is busted; his plane goes down with him and on fire!"
Erwin was correct. The biplane's tank — always in danger in fights like this — had been badly punctured by the same hail of Lewis bullets that had also hit the German, just as his plane got out of control. Instantly the flames burst forth as the big airship plunged downward, only a little behind the falling body of its pilot.
With great effort — for the excitement had weakened the lad — did Erwin bring his scouting plane to an easier level and gait. Then he looked down.
Already both burning biplane and falling pilot had vanished. Far below, the earth was only faintly visible through the mantling haze that now permeated the lower atmosphere. All directions looked alike. The air was comparatively still, and only the far distant rumble of artillery, seldom absent along that front, was audible. It sounded not unlike intermittent thunder. What to do next? Which way should he go? For the first time since starting he felt for his compass. It was gone.
"What'll I do now?" he asked himself.
"Where is the sun? I suppose all the boys that started when I did must have gone back long ago. The time must be at least mid-afternoon." The mists below evidently were rising and thickening. The boy hated to acknowledge to himself that he must be lost, but it looked that way. Cautiously he descended to lower levels but the landscape thus opaquely revealed showed but little that was definite. Lower still he flew. As the earth grew more and more distinct its strangeness did not diminish.
Though it was risky, he went lower still, until the tops of trees, the signs of half ruined houses began to appear. But nothing familiar was in sight. About this time, with day waning and his anxiety growing, Erwin was at last rewarded by glimpse of the sinking sun, seen hazily through a canopy of clouds. There was no mistaking that it was the sun and Orris found that he must have flown wrongly ever since he had put the Boche biplane out of commission. Already he was heading westward when from below there came a series of sharp reports from artillery evidently close by.
"Surely they cannot be shelling our trenches from way back here. I must be far behind the enemy lines — much too far to suit me. Ah, I what's that?"
That was an unmistakable whistle of bullets too close to be comfortable. At least one or two perforated his wings. Then Erwin pointed higher at the same time trying to keep his sense of direction, imparted by a momentary sight of the western sun. More gun shots: still more whistling of balls, and all too close to be comforting.
Up, up he went, veering more to the west. All at once came other gunshots, this time in an extended roar from an area covering perhaps a mile in extent.
"The Archies are getting too familiar," he grumbled. "I must put on more speed. Won't do for me to fail to return."
About that time a breeze sprang up from the east and the skies cleared through a narrow Vista, showing a war-scarred belt of country below with a small town ahead; that is, toward the west. But before he had time to consider this, he saw two airplanes rising from the main street of the little town, while the detonations of the Archies grew into a continuous roar.
"Guess they think they've cornered me," he thought, "but I'll give them a race at least. If I have to, I'll fight."
While reflecting, his machine was still rising rapidly, with the twoBoche planes in pursuit.
"They won't catch me unless I'm crippled by those pesky Archies."
Even while he thought, a stray fragment of shell penetrated the fuselage of the triplane and, striking one of the propeller shafts, so bent it that the lightning-like blades began to revolve more slowly, despite all his efforts to increase his motor power.
For the first time Erwin became seriously alarmed. Try as he might, he was in no position to stop to make repairs, nor could he descend with safety. Apparently the only thing for him to do was to speed up as best he could, try to avoid this pursuit and, if it came to close quarters, put up the best fight possible under the circumstances.
This, of course, he did. But the sight of their own planes pursuing, and at the same time signaling to their friends below, caused Erwin at once to become the target for a continuous line of Archies, extending from the front line German trenches way back to the unknown distances in their rear.
When the pursuing planes drew nearer, the shelling from below grew less, while the condition of his own plane was such as to cause alarm. He knew that he was cornered. Cornered, too, in a way seldom happening to the birdmen who became temporarily lost in a raid. He eyed the two nearing scout planes with no little aversion. Not only was his machine going at less speed, despite his efforts, but the difficulty in steering was greater. Apparently if would only obey the rudder slowly, no matter how hard he tried to "get a move on her." As for wheeling, volplaning, spiraling or doing anything that occasioned quick action on his part with rudder or planes, he was nearly helpless.
Meantime the pursuing planes, both Fokker scouting machines, drew still nearer and began to use their machine guns. The balls pattered all about; but as yet neither he nor his plane was hit. He was zigzagging, mounting, spiraling, but all in a much slower fashion than he had been used to do with this same plane before.
"What's the use?" he groaned. "I can't get back at them, even if I am running away. It's got to come. What's the odds? I'll turn and give them one good try for their game, anyhow."
He was already turning in his lame evolutions when something like a big shadow darkened the air for an instant overhead. It passed. Then back came the shadow again, and a voice was megaphoning, not from below or in the rear but from right overhead. It said:
"Hey, you, Orry! You're crippled! I can see that. But why don't you come up higher? Get a move on!"
Erwin knew that voice. It was like a trumpet call to the lad. Fiercely be seized his own megaphone and shouted back, while with one hand and his feet he kept his own flier still going.
"Yes? I'm crippled but all right. I can't rise except slowly. Better go while the going's good! Too many Archies below!"
While Orris was shouting, another shadow passed overhead. It was Buck Bangs in his Nieuport. For hours they had been scouring the eastern air-zone in a vain search for Erwin, when the sudden roaring of the Archies turned them in this direction. While Orris was turning, trying also to rise, he saw as he faced to the rear that two planes instead of one were now charging the enemy. These had for a minute or more been directing their machine gun fire upon the new arrivals. Erwin had heard the noise of them, and wondered why he was not hit again. This was the reason.
"Great boys, they are," he said to himself.
"But I hope looking for me has not led them where we all don't want to go," meaning the prison camps of the Huns, from which had oozed stories of starvation and cruelty that were more than bad enough. "Considering how I'm fixed, I'll lay low down here and watch my chance to help. That other chap must be Bangs. Well, those two have got nerve anyhow!"
Having found the man they were searching for and in so perilous a situation, neither Blaine nor Bangs wasted time. If Erwin was crippled, so much the greater reason for them to relieve him. Only by direct attack could this be accomplished, if at all. Though the Archies were now roaring more than ever, Blaine and his observer, both machine guns pointed f or instant action, started straight at the pursuing planes. Buck was with him at a convenient distance. Instantly the rattle of their guns pattered out in the air as a fusillade of bullets was showered at the foe.
The determined maneuvers of the new arrivals evidently daunted the Huns. One of them immediately turned tail. The other tried to do so but was intercepted by Blaine who, making an absolutely nervy side-loop, came up under the Fokker and began again discharging a deadly rain of bullets.
But one source of refuge was left the German. Up, up he climbed. Being cut off from retreat towards his own lines, he struck straight across towards No-Man's-Land with the big biplane full pursuit and still firing.
Meantime Bangs took after the other, bringing it down under a detached fire from the Archies who were naturally more cautious now in firing, owing to the fear of hitting one of their own planes. Still they found chances to pepper the little Nieuport in which Bangs was darting to and fro like a hawk after a chicken. But before the Fokker was sent down, Buck knew that his own wings were seriously perforated. As yet his fuselage and tank, his engine and machinery were unhurt.
Without waiting to note the fate of his opponent, Bangs turned nimbly and struck out westward, following the crippled scout wherein was the man they had set out to find and rescue.
"I'll stick by Orry," was Buck's conclusion. "I guess Blaine andStanley can take care of that other chap. I wonder where the rest ofthe Huns are. We are in the rear lines and there should be moreFokkers or Taubes around."
This query was soon answered. Ranging alongside Erwin, but not too near, Buck megaphoned as follows:
"How you getting on anyhow? Had a hell of a time findin' you. Didn't find you any too soon, eh?"
Erwin's replies were unimportant except that he was so crippled that he must get back to the base, or at least alight somewhere soon or he, would not be able to fly at all.
"Bent piston rods," he also phoned. "And I'm afraid my main propeller shaft has gone wrong somehow."
"All right," returned Bangs. "I'll stick with you. Hullo! What's the matter with Blaine and his man?"
At this juncture the big biplane that had been pursuing the Fokker suddenly ducked, dove far beneath his adversary and came up on the opposing side, at the same time peppering the Hun with machine gun explosive bullets.
The Fokker almost stopped and appeared to tremble. Both Bangs and Erwin saw that some serious internal injury had occurred. The German was furiously at work within his manhole, leaving the plane much to its own devices.
So patent was this that Buck, who was nearest, shot upward and let drive at the Hun from below. But instead of giving heed to this new attack, the Hun now recovered, shot off to the right and began climbing rapidly. Bangs, in accord with his resolve to stick to Erwin, did not follow, but Blaine did, at the same time megaphoning to both Buck and Orris as follows:
"I've been up higher than you fellows. There's a number of planes off in the sou'west. Gettin' so dark could hardly tell 'em apart. Better stick together and watch out!"
Though the Archies were now quite out of range, night was so near at hand that this seemed good policy. Blaine now added:
"I'm goin' to give that Fokker another round. Be back with you in a minute." Then on he went after the German.
What ensued was rather puzzling to both Bangs and Erwin. Blaine was now evidently faster than the German, whose machine had apparently sustained some internal injury. They saw the biplane close in on the Hun amid a rapid fire of bullets from each at the other.
All at once the Hun began sidling irregularly towards the earth. By this time both the others, having risen somewhat, caught glimpses through their field glasses of a number of nearing planes winging from the west. Below, as far as could be seen, stretched No-Man's-Land. Behind was a growing blackness that denoted approaching night. To both Bangs' and Erwin's astonishment, the biplane, instead of returning, was pointing downward after the crippled Fokker.
Then from the north whirled a sea-fog that presently enveloped all, obliterating what remained of light, hiding even Blaine and the adversary he had pursued. It was strange, mysterious.
Erwin, who was lower than the others, here saw the crumbling walls and towers of what had once been an old baronial chateau. Near this the biplane had landed. No sign just then of the Fokker, though that must have descended also, for the machine or the man in it was undoubtedly injured. Erwin grabbed his megaphone, shouting up at Buck hovering near, "I'm going down. Blaine's already landed. Come on!"
But for some reason Bangs declined. Being higher up, he had detected signs of those other planes invisible to those below.
"Go on down," he shouted. "I want to do a little scouting." And off he flew, determined all at once to find out who and what might be approaching. But his purpose was defeated by the onrush of the fog, that thickened still more, while those landed below were equally invisible to Buck.
However having a general idea as to the direction best for him to take, he turned that way after recklessly feeling out in vain for further sight of the approaching squadron. Here we will leave him for the present.
When Erwin at last brought his plane down beside the half ruined chateau, he found both Stanley and Blaine stooping over a prostrate form soon identified as that of the German aviator. Near by was the Fokker, somewhat disabled, but not in such bad condition. The man himself had just expired.
"What do you think that chap asked us to do," said Blaine, regarding the dead man solemnly. "It sort of mellowed me towards him, after His father and mother live in Chicago, worked for some meat packers, and his dad is making some money there. When he found that the bullets that had hit him as well as his machine weren't goin' to let him live much longer, he asked if either of us got back to our lines, to write tell his mother. He gave me the name and I put it down in my pocket pad book. He talked in good English and altogether seemed quite like some of our home folks. He got into aviation over here and liked it. But he's out of all that now and to make him feel better both Stan and I promised to do as he wished.
"He said his machine was all right; and if anything was the matter with ours we might fix up his and make a get-away. Course there ain't nothin' much the matter with mine, though yours may be crippled — hullo! What's that?"
The loud report of an exploding bomb sounded as it fell not far away. Instantly they scattered for such shelter as was obtainable. Other bombs fell and for a few minutes the scene was indescribable. They saw from the shelter both their own machines shattered too badly for further immediate use, though the Fokker remained untouched, it being some distance off and partially under the protecting shadow of a half ruined arch of the chateau that overhung the main approach.
Also they heard the whirring swish of the passing squadron as it circled over the buildings. It afterwards appeared that the chateau owner was for some reason specially obnoxious to the Germans in Belgium. At last the bombing apparently ceased, but even this was deceptive. Both Blaine and Erwin, followed at a little distance by Stanley, ran out to look into the damage done to their machines. In the darkness this was slow work. A fire was lighted, and while still examining the wrecks another whirring overhead sounded.
Stanley discreetly dodged under another projecting abutment, when down dropped another bomb, probably thrown at a venture from some scattering member of the squad that had just passed. From his shelter Stanley was horrified to see both Blaine and Erwin, who were near the fire, thrown violently down as the bomb burst appallingly near where they were crouched. They; did not rise again.
Without waiting to see if other bombs might fall, the observer ran forward in great perturbation. Both aviators lay apparently senseless. From Blaine's head blood was flowing from a flesh wound somewhere up under his thick mop of short curly hair. His pulse, however, was beating lively.
As for Erwin, no visible wounds were apparent, yet he lay there deathly pale while some of his clothing had been torn by fragments of the exploding bomb.
Of Buck Bangs there was no sign.
Deeply depressed, for he was very young and impressionable, Stanley, regardless of his own safety, punched up the fire and from his own and his comrades' kits procured such remedies as aviators carry for just such emergencies. In the dark he hunted for water but found none. From a flask of good French brandy he managed to pour a spoonful or so down each throat, taking a swallow himself, for he felt he sorely needed it.
Poor old Blaine never stirred. Erwin at last shivered slightly.
"Isn't this a deuce of a fix?" he sighed at length. "Where are we? For all I know, Blaines may be dead. Here, feeling again of Lafe's pulse, its steady beat somewhat reassured Stanley. "How about Orris?"
If anything, Erwin's pulse was coming back. The brandy had restored such vitality to the lad that his arteries were again sending the life-giving fluid upon its unceasing task.
"What can have become of Buck?" Stanley replenished the fire with stray fuel, for he knew that it would be a signal to Bangs and perhaps to the enemy; but as to the last he hoped not, amid that chilly darkness and night fog.
Here a slight noise from his rear caused Stanley to wheel in his tracks and stare stupidly at a dim figure under the shadow of a portico in front of the basement of the main edifice, which was, in fact, about the only part of that vast group of buildings that seemed unharmed.
"Who are you? What brought you here?" came an unmistakably feminine voice.
More wonderful still, the language was English — good English, too. Was there not also an American twang about the tone and accent? Stanley could have pinched himself, had he thought of it. But so surprised was he that he seemed actually paralyzed, when an unmistakably girlish figure emerged more into the light.
Still the young observer stared, hardly noticed that another older form had made a dim appearance. It, too, wore skirts, though rather raged and soiled. The girl's habiliments also evinced that her recent abode had not been where style and cleanliness were at all dominant.
"You — you are not Germans?" This tremulously from the girl. "You understand me, don't you?"
"Yes, ma am," Stanley almost stuttered.
"Y-you s-see — I'm some surprised —"
"Some surprised!" The girl was smiling hopefully. "That sounds like good old United States talk."
"We heard so much noise overhead, then some nasty bombs exploding. So Brenda and I have lain hidden in the cellars for — for hours. Haven't we, Brenda? The dim form in the rear nodded emphatically. "But who are you?"
Here she caught sight of the ruined planes and the prostrate forms ofBlaine and Erwin, with also the more distant figure of the dead German.
"Oh — oh!" She clasped her hands. "How dreadful! What can we do?May we not help? Are they all dead?"
The girl was genuinely aroused, so much so that her natural horror of the strained situation was lost in genuine concern. Stanley briefly explained the series of incidents that had preceded the present situation, at the same time pointing at the dead German aviator, and concluding with:
"The poor chap used to live in Chicago. Before he died he gave us his parents' address there. He spoke good English."
"Why, Chicago is where I hail from," said the girl. "Good old Windy City! I wish I was there now, although I have been over here many months."
Meantime Brenda, with the ready adaptability of Belgian women, had been examining the persons of the two still insensible aviators. All at once she rose up, saying to her mistress:
"Pardon, miss." This in her own Flemish tongue. "We must move these Americans to our under ground rooms. They will recover, but they need attention."
"You are sure right, Miss - Miss —" Stanley hesitated, but the girl paid no heed. "We don't want to inconvenience you, but something will have to be done right away."
With the able assistance of Brenda, while the girl went ahead carrying a small lamp that had been produced as if by magic from somewhere - possibility by Brenda — they picked up poor Erwin and followed. Down some half ruined stone steps they went, then through a long passage, then down more steps to a half open door.
Once inside, Stanley saw he was in quite a sizeable room, with two beds, one large, the other a mere cot. The girl led the way to the large bed, and there they laid the still swooning man who gave a slight groan as he was deftly covered by the girl who murmured as if to herself:
"Poor fellow, he has suffered!"
Already Stanley was leaving, saying:
"We must get Blaine down here quickly. He is in a bad way, I fear."
Seizing the lamp, the girl hurried after. On reaching the other stricken aviator, what was their surprise to find him leaning on one elbow, trying to rise, but vainly.
"Wha — what's the matter? Where am I?"
"You're with friends, old boy," soothed Stanley, seizing Blaine's arms, while Brenda took up the lower limbs. With the wounded man muttering aimlessly, again they wended their way to the lower chamber, evidently used by the girl and Brenda as a temporary sleeping place.
With deft efficiency the girl had snatched up Stanley's kit of dressings and other medical paraphernalia and hurried on ahead with the lamp. In a trice they had placed him on the cot. Immediately the two women were busy with these things and some stored aids of their own, dressing the bruises on both the boys and applying restoratives, so that in a short time both were awake, sensible, and staring with grateful wonder at these two women — angels of mercy — and the strange yet comfortable surroundings.
Mutual explanations had already begun when whirring, semi-thunderous noises again were heard. Stanley was instantly on the alert.
"All of you remain quiet while I slip up and see what is on," he said, flinging back: "If your light is apt to shine through any hole or opening, better douse it or hang up covers. Make no noises until you hear from me." He was off, but not before the girl called to him:
"Be very careful, sir! We cannot spare you - yet."
"No, we can't, ma'am," remarked Blaine from the cot where he now sat upright with a bandaged head.
"Indeed, Sir," said the girl almost wistfully, "we cannot spare any of you. Just think, we have been here a week, and with more or less bombing going on each day and sometimes at night."
"May I ask, mademoiselle —" began Blaine.
"Just plain Miss," interrupted the girl. "Miss Daskam from Chicago!"
"Well, well!" Blaine was smilingly openly now. "That surely sounds homelike! Well, we're all Americans too. We were on an air raid and had a good deal of mixed luck. Blaine's my name; that's Erwin over there," pointing at the cot where Orris was grinning and smiling. "The chap who went out just now is Stanley. He is my observer. But our machine is smashed now and how we will all get back is more than I know. Eh, Orry?"
"Looks that way. But what's the use of worrying while we are in such charming company? I'm all right."
And to prove it Erwin stepped out on the floor, a little teetery perhaps, but once more himself. He made a not ungraceful bow.
"May I ask, Miss Daskam, how you happened to get cornered down here in this poor old chateau? It must have been a grand place once — but now!" He shrugged slightly, regarding Miss Daskam sympathizingly.
"The wife of the owner of this place is my sister. I came over as a member of the Belgian Red Cross. Both my sister and her husband are, or were, at headquarters when I left the Belgian lines. I had a permit to visit his chateau; for in the days before I came over here I had left there certain papers most important to them both. I wanted to see the place and I had a friend that was chummy with the Boches in Brussels. He had forwarded me a pass. So I insisted on taking Brenda along and trying it alone. You know western girls are not much afraid of things."
"Well, you were plucky enough, anyhow, interposed Erwin and Blaine nodded.
"Up to that time, after the chateau had been bombarded by our Allies in their final advance towards Paschiendale after Vimy ridge, it had rested unharmed further."
"But you can never count on what Fritz will do, or when he'll begin," remarked Blaine. Then as the girl went on, Erwin sat down suddenly as if something within him had all at once given way.
"Keep still, Mr. Erwin," she cautioned. "You're not well vet. As I was saving we got through the lines all right. If either my sister or the Baron had gone, they would have been made prisoners at least. I was a Red Cross nurse. We had done good work over there and even the Germans were well disposed. But if it wasn't for Brenda, I hardly know how we'd have managed Brenda is a — a whole team, you know." She pressed her servant's worn hand as she continued. "We reached the chateau, secured the papers with out much trouble, for Brenda, being an old family servitor, knew where to find them. That very night, while we were in these underground rooms, the Germans began dropping bombs all about.
"It appeared that the Allies from over our way had gotten to raiding behind the lines, not knowing we were here, of course. Otherwise they would not have begun, for the Baron is highly respected among the Belgians and other Allies Why not? He is one of their King Albert's main leaders. Well, after that we simply had a terrible time. First one side, then the other would either fight overhead, or pass to and fro, dropping bombs here and there. Oh, it was terrible!"
"Poor child!" This from Brenda. "She no harm no one; but dem Boche, he no care what he do or where he do it. Ally not know either."
"Well, we have been here ever since. Now you have come, perhaps we may somehow find a way to get out."
Here Stanley suddenly entered, looking strangely resolved. Above, the explosive noises had gradually died out. Looking at Blaine, he said:
"Lafe, I have fixed up that German's Fokker All it needs is more gasoline and there's still some in your tank and Orry's. If you don't care, I'll fly that Fokker over our lines before morning and manage to bring some help. Neither of you are strong enough to go and I understand Fokkers pretty well. What say?"
"That won't do at all," exclaimed Erwin, making another violent effort not only to stand but to walk. All at once he tottered and would have fallen, but Brenda caught him, placing him back on the cot.
"That'll do for you, Orris," began Blaine. "Shucks! I feel quite pert. Just you watch me!"
But it turned out that Blaine was, if anything, weaker than his friend, and silence gave consent to his first proposal. Even Miss Daskam assented, adding: "I hope when you do return with help, sir, that it will be sufficient to enable Brenda and me to accompany you."
For the first time Stanley seemed to catch the wistfulness in her eyes and tone. He impulsively took her hand, saying:
"Believe me, Miss Aida — Daskam, I mean," (She had already whispered to him her full name), "if any of us gets back out of this mess, you may be sure you will be among them —"
"And Brenda, too?"
"Brenda, too! If I know anything of our folks back at the aerodrome, we will have plenty of help."
In another minute he was gone. Brenda went with him to help about the gasoline, and in an short time, under her pilotage, he reached an open spot where he could rise.
They heard the whirring of his wings; he was gone.