“He’s caught fast there, I tell you,” he remarked, eagerly, “and it’s a good thing for him he is, because if he fell to the ground he’d be killed.”
“How queer!” cried Bumpus, his eyes almost starting out of their sockets with the intensity of the interest he took in the affair; “whoever could have hung the poor fellow away up there in that tree top?”
Giraffe snorted in disdain.
“Nobody hung him there, silly!” he exclaimed. “He fell there, that’s all!”
“Fell there!” repeated Bumpus, incredulously. “Oh! now you’re trying to kid me, Giraffe. I don’t take any stock in those big yarns about Mars being inhabited, and all that stuff. Speak plainer, can’t you?”
“If you look close, Thad,” Giraffe said, ignoring Bumpus completely now, “you’ll see something lying on the ground near the tree.”
“Yes, you’re right, Giraffe, I see it,” replied the other; “and it looks as if it might be some sort of wreck, too.”
“Just what she is!” cried Giraffe exultantly; “the wreck of an aeroplane. That man in the tree must have been one of the flying squad, German or Belgian, we don’t know which yet. He met with an accident while up aloft. Mebbe some of that shrapnel injured his machine, and he was making for the earth to land far away from the battle field when he struck that tree, and there he’s stuck ever since.”
“Oh! how hard it must have been for him, hanging up there all night, and p’raps badly hurt at that!” cried the tender-hearted Bumpus. “Thad, you wouldn’t think of going on and leaving him there, I hope?”
“Well, I should say not, Bumpus,” Giraffe told him. “We’d deserve to be kicked out of the organization if ever we did that. How could we look back without turning fiery red every time we remembered such a cowardly act? Leave it to us, and we’ll get him down out of that, eh, Thad?”
“Our duty compels us to do everything we can to alleviate distress,” the patrol leader said, soberly. “And it doesn’t matter the least bit to us whether that poor chap is a German, Belgian or Frenchman. He’s in a terrible position, and may lose his life unless we do something for him. So let’s head that way on the run!”
“What about the car, Thad?” asked Allan.
“Hang the car,” replied the other, impulsively. “It’s stalled right now, and the engine partly dismantled, so there’s no danger of its running away.”
“I hope not,” Bumpus was heard to mutter, dubiously, “but cars are mighty funny contraptions any way you put it, and nobody ever knows what they’re meaning to do. When you think they’re sleeping as sweet as anything they may kick you all of a sudden just like a mule.”
Bumpus did not say anything more. He needed all the breath he could gather in so as to keep within reasonable distance of his three chums, who were making pretty fast time toward the tall tree.
As they drew closer to the spot all doubt concerning the nature of the heap on the ground was dissipated. It was undoubtedly a wrecked aeroplane, and Thad, who had taken pains to look these things up, told the others it was without question a Taube model, small but swift.
“That means the man up yonder will turn out to be a German aviator, doesn’t it, Thad?” asked Allan, who was at his side, with Giraffe leading.
“No question about that,” was the reply, “because the Germans are the only ones who are using the Taube model exclusively. They seem to think it about fills the bill for safety and speed.”
They had seen the man who was held fast among the branches of the tree almost at the apex, in fact, wave his hand to them several times. This told the boys he was still alive, even though possibly suffering tortures. It also informed them that he had been watching their coming, and while restraining from shouting out, meant to implore their assistance.
“How are we going to get him down?” asked Giraffe, as they reached the foot of the tree, which looked as though it could be easily scaled, since the lower limbs came close to the ground.
“Three of us must climb up,” said Thad. “We can help each other, and it strikes me we ought to be able to make it.”
“One thing in our favor,” remarked Allan, who was famous for seeing things, “the aviator is a rather small man. That’s going to be lots of help.”
“What can I do, Thad?” asked Bumpus, willing to attempt anything going, though his bulk would hardly allow him to be useful up aloft; in fact he was apt to bother the others rather than prove of assistance.
“Stay down here, and take the man when we lower him from the limbs,” Thad told him.
It was not much, Bumpus thought, but then he could at least say that he had had a hand in the rescue of the unfortunate aeroplane pilot.
Giraffe climbed quickly, and reached the vicinity of the stranded aviator first. He was even talking in German with him when the other two arrived. They could see just how the garments of the man had become caught in the branches, so that he was held there as in a vise, utterly unable to help himself.
“He says he’s been here all night,” said Giraffe, eagerly, his face aglow with pride over the fact that once more his high school German was proving valuable. “He was swinging up pretty high, taking notes of the disposition of the Belgian forces, when he found himself a target for heavy firing. He thinks his machine must have been hit as well as himself, for it started to act queer. So he made off like the wind to get as far away from the firing line as he could, always falling, and in the end he struck this tree just before dark.”
“He’s been wounded in the left arm,” said Thad, “for you can see how it hangs helpless, and there’s dried blood on his sleeve too, caking it hard. He might have bled to death here if that arm didn’t happen to be above him, which has helped to stop the flow. I’m afraid it’ll start in again while we’re getting him down, but that can’t be helped.”
“We’ll fix that soon enough, Thad,” said Giraffe, eagerly, “once we get him on the ground. Scouts ought to know their business enough to fix up any ordinary hurt like that. But have you arranged your plan, Thad? Tell us what to do, and you’ll see us get busy.”
The patrol leader had taken a hasty survey of the situation. He saw there was only one way in which they could get the aviator free from the clinging branches, and swing him in to the body of the tree.
Accordingly he began to give his orders clearly.
“You reach him on that side, Giraffe, and I’ll take hold here. When we swing him in, Allan, you catch hold, and keep him steady. Then we’ll cut these twigs, and free his leather coat. But be careful, both of you, for a slip would mean broken bones, if not something worse. Now, ready, Giraffe? Then when I say three, start swinging!”
“Well done, Allan!” exclaimed Giraffe as the third boy successfully clutched the aviator, after they had managed between them to swing him in.
Thad now gave instructions just how to work the branches free, one by one.
“Keep a good hold on him everybody,” he said, and was also pleased to note that the aeroplane pilot had himself taken a desperate clutch upon a small limb, as though meaning to be of what little assistance he could.
Step by step they accomplished it, and before long were commencing to descend the tree. The man proved to be full of grit, as was to be expected of one who continually took his life in his hands in making those daring aerial flights, thousands of feet above the earth, and over hostile lines at that, where he would be a target for dozens of exploding shrapnel bombs.
Bumpus down below grew more and more excited the closer they came. He had braced himself like a gladiator, as though he meant to try and catch the man if by any mischance he slipped from their grasp and fell, and Bumpus would have been foolish enough to offer himself as a buffer, had any such accident happened.
But there was, fortunately, no slip, and presently they lowered the man into his waiting arms, so that after all Bumpus was able to do a small share in the rescue.
Apparently the poor fellow was greatly weakened by his recent terrible experience. To hang there the livelong night, swaying with the branches, and in constant danger of dropping to his death, must have been a severe shock to his nervous system. And then besides he had lost much blood, and that would weaken him in itself, even without the lingering peril.
He sank to the ground, but at the same time looked inquiringly at them, as though to question whether they were capable of helping him further.
“Tell him, Giraffe, if you can,” said Thad, “that as Boy Scouts, over in America, we have learned how to care for all ordinary wounds, and that we mean to do what is possible for his arm.”
“It’s lucky, Thad,” said Bumpus, “that you always insisted on carrying that little roll of linen along with you, and some healing salve. I own up there have been times when I thought you were foolish to load yourself down that way, but I see how valuable it can come in.”
“Some people think it folly to insure their houses,” said Thad, “but when the fire comes along they understand what a comfort it is to those who get the cash to rebuild. I carry this stuff because one of us might get hurt when away from a doctor or surgeon. And I’m willing to use it on the first fellow we’ve run across who needs it.”
Meanwhile Giraffe was again talking with the pilot. The man nodded his head eagerly when he heard what the tall boy said. Perhaps he knew what German Boy Scouts were always taught to do in emergencies, but was in doubt with regard to their American cousins, for Giraffe had of course informed him before then how they came from over the sea, and were only pilgrims in Belgium at the time.
It was deemed advisable to help the man down to the little stream that Thad had noticed close by. Here they commenced to get his leather coat off. It was no easy task, and Bumpus turned pale when he saw what a mess his arm was in, through lack of attention for so many hours.
Giraffe had been dispatched over to the car and returned with a little tin bucket they happened to possess. Allan meanwhile had started a small fire, and over this the tin utensil, after being filled with water, was placed.
When the liquid was heated enough Thad started to wash the man’s arm. Gradually the nature of the wound was disclosed. After all it was not so very serious, when that dried blood had been cleansed from his arm. Some missile from the bursting shrapnel bomb had cut through the muscles, but it would soon heal, if no serious consequences followed his long exposure.
Thad used his liniment and bound the arm up as carefully as any experienced Red Cross surgeon could have done under similar conditions. The man looked very grateful. That could be seen in his manner, and the pleased way in which he followed all of Thad’s operations with his eyes.
Still, there was an expression of doubt on his face now and then, and Thad could give a pretty good guess what it meant. Undoubtedly the German air pilot had begun to wonder just what his status was going to be, now that he had been rescued from his perilous position in that high treetop, and his wound so splendidly dressed. Would he have to consider himself a prisoner of war? These boys in khaki who said they came from America,—were they so much in sympathy with the Allies that they would consider it their duty to hand him over to the Belgians?
He must have put the question to Giraffe when he talked so fast, for that worthy after having him repeat it more slowly shook his head, and turning to Thad remarked:
“What d’ye think, Thad, the poor chap is wondering whether he’s a prisoner of war or not?”
“Do you mean he thinks we want to consider him our prisoner?” asked the other. “Just let him know that we’re as neutral as we can be, Giraffe. While we don’t like this thing of the big German army invading the country of the poor Belgians, and think it all wrong, still we’re not taking any side. So far as we’re concerned he is as free as the air.”
When Giraffe told this to the eagerly listening air pilot he seemed to be very much gratified.
“He says he has good friends not a great ways off,” reported Giraffe, after some more talk with the wounded aviator, “and thinks he could manage to reach them, if only he can hide somewhere till dark settles down.”
“That’s all right!” Thad declared, “and so far as we’re concerned we hope he may sooner or later manage to get back inside the German lines. He’s a brave man, and we’re only too glad to have been of service to him.”
“Thad,” continues Giraffe, “he says he wants to write something down if you’ve got a pencil and paper handy. I think he means to fix it so that in case we run across some of his people they’ll be good to us. It’s the only way he knows to show how grateful he feels.”
“I don’t know but what it might be a good idea, although we hope we won’t come across any of those German raiders,” Thad remarked, as he searched his pockets, and found the needed articles.
The man wrote with some difficulty, for his hand was stiff, but after he had completed his task Giraffe said he could read it all right.
“He’s gone and told how he happened to land in a tree top, and would have died there only for us getting him down,” explained Giraffe; “and then he goes on to tell how we bound up his wounds, and did everything for him we could; so that he asks any German officer who reads this to be kind to us for his sake. I reckon now that the name he’s signed is well known among German airmen; seems to me I’ve heard it, or seen it in print.”
The air pilot had gotten out his pipe, and was actually enjoying a smoke. Doubtless, being addicted to the weed he would have suffered less during the long night could he have had the satisfaction of an occasional puff.
Allan looked at him curiously, while Giraffe was filled with admiration.
“These air pilots have to be pretty cool customers, it strikes me,” he remarked, as they prepared to say good-bye to the man, who evidently did not think it wise on his part to go near the road, lest he be seen and taken prisoner.
“They certainly do,” said Thad, “because there isn’t a second when they’re up in the air that they’re not in deadly danger. A man may stumble on land; he may have an accident when on the water, but he’s got a fair chance to save himself. With them a collapse means being snuffed out of existence.”
“Whew! excuse me from being an aviator!” declared Bumpus, so fervently that Giraffe turned and looked him over from head to foot, to remark caustically:
“No danger of that happening, Bumpus. They’d have to build a Zeppelin to accommodate you.”
“Oh! I’m not thinking seriously of trying it, Giraffe,” said the other, sweetly. “I guess I know my shortcomings as well as any one could. I don’t expect to fly as long as I stay in this world. There may be a time—but never mind about that. Our friend wants to shake hands with you, Thad. He knows what a heap you’ve done for him, and I guess he’ll have a right good opinion of American Boy Scouts after this.”
The rescued German aviator shook hands not only with Thad but each one of them in turn, and he said something in his own language which Giraffe later on told them was a warm expression of his heartfelt gratitude.
As the four lads started toward the road where they had left the stranded car he was standing there and waving his uninjured hand after them. When, however, they arrived at the mound and looked back once more he had disappeared.
Some people were coming along the road, and possibly the man may have discovered them before the boys did, seeking a place of refuge in order that they might not make out that he was a German, and so carry the news to some Belgian regiment quartered nearby.
Thad started in to work at the engine as though this thing of being called off to save the life of a birdman was a mere nothing at all, just coming along in the course of his ordinary business.
Bumpus installed himself in his seat and watched him work. That was a favorite occupation with Bumpus, for he did enjoy seeing some one else do things about as well as any boy that ever lived.
“Think he’ll get clear of his enemies, Thad?” he remarked, showing that all the while his thoughts were connected with the air pilot whom they had just rescued.
“He seemed to feel pretty sure of it,” the other replied, “though of course he’d have to avoid all the people living around this section, for they’d turn on him if they guessed he was a German. The Belgians are pretty furious over their country being overrun with the Kaiser’s troops. I’ve even seen old peasants handling guns as if they meant to fight for their homes, a very foolish thing for them to do, because it would only enrage the invaders, and end with a massacre.”
“You act as if you’d remedied the break in the engine, Thad, seeing that you’re putting up your tools, and wiping your hands off,” remarked Giraffe.
“I’ve got it fixed,” Thad informed him, without any great show of enthusiasm; “but remember I’m not promising how long it’s going to stand. There’s always a toss-up with a machine of this kind as to what part will break down next.”
“Tell me about that, will you?” growled Giraffe, in disgust. “I’d like to kick the old box into the river only that it does save us some walking. It’s a lottery any way you can fix it.”
“Get aboard everybody, and let’s see how she cranks,” suggested Thad.
As usual it took several urgent efforts before the engine decided to heed the call to duty.
“There, she sings like a bird!” cried Bumpus as the loud whirr announced that once again their motor was in working order.
So they started off.
“One thing sure,” remarked Giraffe, looking back toward the place where presently they could just glimpse the top of the tall tree where they had found such queer fruit growing, “that was a remarkable little adventure, and none of us are likely to forget it in a hurry either.”
“I know for one I won’t!” declared Bumpus; “and every time I look at this bolt that I took from the broken Taube aeroplane I’ll think of how you fellows climbed right up to the top of that tree and brought the birdman down safe to the ground, and how I stood there to receive him. Yes, it’s marked with a white stone in my memory, and I can just imagine how Smithy, Step Hen, Davy Jones and Bob White’ll stare when they hear the story of the wrecked aeroplane man!”
Once more the fugitives managed to go on for some little distance, with nothing out of the common run happening. Bumpus was thinking that the engine had commenced to act quite decently, but of course he did not dare mention this fact aloud. The recollection of what had followed when Giraffe boasted was still fresh in his memory.
“There’s a fork in the road ahead of us, Thad,” announced the keen-eyed Giraffe. “Do we take the right or the left branch?”
“I’m a little dubious about that,” said the pilot at the wheel.
“Why, what does your chart say?” asked Giraffe.
“As near as I can make out,” he was told, “the roads come together again some ways further on, perhaps as much as seven miles or so. The one that leads toward the left seems to be shorter than the other by considerable.”
“Then why should you hesitate about starting along that one?” asked Allan.
“Only because it heads so far toward the southwest, you see,” explained Thad.
“Oh! I’m on now,” exclaimed the tall scout. “You’re a bit worried for fear we’ll run smack into some of the fighting that seems to have been going on over that way—is that it, Thad?”
“Well, yes, Giraffe, but on the whole I think I’ll make the try. If we see things getting thick ahead of us we can turn around and come back again at the worst. And if we do manage to get along without being held up we’ll save quite some time.”
That was how they came to be moving along that road, and heading in a direction that opened up new hazards.
“We want to keep a good lookout whenever we strike a rise,” the pilot warned them. “Tell me if you happen to see anything that looks suspicious, for it may be a hard job to get turned around, you know.”
Each one of the others readily promised, though very likely the task would fall principally to Giraffe, as he had the best eyes for this purpose.
They may have covered as much as three miles after passing the fork when they saw a hill ahead of them. Bumpus looked and groaned. He knew what that meant.
“More push coming, fellows!” commented Giraffe. “As for me, I won’t be sorry to get out and stretch my legs a bit, because they’re feeling cramped.”
“Hit it up for all the old tub can carry, Thad,” begged Bumpus. “The further she carries us before giving up the ghost the less hard work we’ll have to do. Go it, you shirker, do your level best! If you could only drag us all the way up I’d beg your pardon for ever having even thought evil of you. Here we go!”
They started up the rise bravely enough, but speedily the engine began to make signs as of distress.
“Get ready to jump, everybody!” called out Giraffe.
“Yes, that’s easy for you to say,” complained poor Bumpus, “but think of me, won’t you? How can I spring like a frog when she starts to go backward down the hill again? I’ll do my best to roll out; only somebody grab hold, and don’t let me get started rolling like a barrel after the car!”
“Oh! no danger,” Thad told them. “Just as soon as she stops I’ll jam on the brake and let her back off the road.”
“We’re two-thirds of the way to the top anyhow!” cried Giraffe, triumphantly.
He had hardly spoken when the engine gave a last expiring puff, and Thad immediately turned the car into the little ditch alongside the road.
They had done this grand pushing act so often by this time that they had it all reduced to a system. Two took hold on either side, and in this way the car was urged up the balance of the rise. With but a couple of stops, so as to catch their breath, the boys managed to reach the crown of the low hill.
“Worth all it took to get here, just to enjoy that grand view!” gasped Allan.
Giraffe uttered a cry.
“Look down there to where the road crosses a river by a bridge!” he exclaimed.
“Why, there are lots of men in uniforms on the other side of the bridge, Belgian soldiers as sure as anything!” cried Allan.
“They’ve got cannon, too,” added Bumpus, staring with distended eyes, “because you c’n see the glint in the sunlight. What d’ye suppose it all means, Thad?”
As usual he had to appeal to the patrol leader for an opinion. Bumpus had never fully learned that a scout should try to figure out things for himself, and not be forever asking some one else for an explanation. But then it was so much easier doing things by proxy, and Bumpus, as every one knew, hated to exert himself more than was absolutely necessary.
“That bridge must be an important one, I should say,” Thad explained, “and the battery has had orders to guard it so that no German cavalrymen can cross.”
“And perhaps sooner or later there will be a fierce old fight take place right down there!” Giraffe was saying, half to himself, and with a touch of envy in his voice, as though he felt sorry that he could not be upon that same hill so as to watch the battle below.
“Ought we to keep on and try to get across that bridge, Thad?” asked Allan.
“It’s a question whether the Belgians would let us get close enough to tell who we are. They might open on us as soon as we came in sight,” Bumpus remarked, from which it might easily be seen what he hoped Thad would do.
“We’re not going to have the chance to try and cross the bridge,” remarked Giraffe, “and if you want to know the reason why just look along the river road that joins this one down near the bridge.”
No sooner had the others done this than loud and excited exclamations told what a shock they had received.
“That’s what all the dust meant I noticed rising over those trees,” said Bumpus. “Why, there comes a whole army of soldiers, and say, they’ve got field guns along with them, too, because you can see the horses dragging the same.”
“And do you notice the gray uniforms they are wearing?” Giraffe demanded. “That shows who they are—the Kaiser’s men, as sure as anything. Now there’s going to be the dickens to pay. The river must be deep, and I reckon that same bridge is the only one around this section. The Germans are bent on crossing over, and the Belgians just as set that they shan’t do the same. Thad, you won’t think of quitting this splendid view-place and losing the one chance we may ever have to see a real up-to-date battle?”
Thad did not answer immediately. He had a boy’s curiosity as well as Giraffe, and felt that it would be something to say they had actually witnessed a fierce fight between the rivals for Belgian soil, the defenders and the invaders.
“Yes, we will stay a while,” he finally said; “but first let’s get the car turned around, and make sure it will work when called on. We may have to leave here in a big hurry, you understand.”
These little matters having been duly attended to they were in a position to observe all that was transpiring below. It was just like a grand panorama, or something that had been staged for a moving picture show.
The German battery was advancing on a gallop now, as though the fact had been discovered that the bridge was guarded by the Belgians. Men could be seen using the whip on the steaming horses, already galloping wildly. The rumble of the wheels on the road came distinctly to the ears of the interested boys standing on the rise, and really not more than a mile or so from the scene.
“There, the troops are coming on the double-quick, too!” announced Giraffe. “You can’t see the end of them yet, and I should think there must be thousands of soldiers in that bunch. It’s going to be a hot old affair, believe me. Mebbe the Germans may carry the bridge, and again they might get more than they bargained for right there.”
Evidences of considerable excitement could be seen among the defenders of the river bridge. Men ran this way and that; perhaps ammunition was being placed handy, so that the guns could be quickly served, because time was a factor that would undoubtedly enter into the result. A delay of a few seconds was apt to count heavily for either side when fighting it out at such close quarters.
Of course all of the scouts were keenly interested. While neither Thad nor Allan felt just the same eagerness that Giraffe displayed, at the same time they knew such an opportunity to see a wonderful and terrible spectacle would not be apt to come their way again in a hurry, and so they were satisfied to stay.
As for Bumpus, he was shivering, not with eagerness, but in anticipation of awful sights he expected to witness, once those guns started business. The florid look had left his round face, and it was now almost pallid, with his blue eyes round and expectant.
Amidst clouds of dust and more or less racket the German battery came dashing along. It broke through into a field as though all this had been figured out beforehand in the wonderful systematic way these Teuton fighters did nearly everything they undertook.
There the horses were detached from the guns and caissons and hurried away to a place of security. Already a loud crash announced that the Belgians were beginning hostilities, not meaning to wait until that host of grim gray-clad infantry reached the abutment of the bridge.
The four boys watched and saw a shell burst close to one of the German batteries. It did not seem to do any damage, nor did the gunners show the least sign of any flinching, but went steadily about their work of loading.
Other shots began to roar out until there was a constant crash in the air almost deafening, and white powder smoke rose in billows, through which the watchers on the hilltop could actually discover flashes of flame when another gun was discharged.
The battle for the bridge was now on in earnest. Hurrying figures could be seen in every direction. The Germans were evidently not fully satisfied with their first position for down came the horses again, and being attached to the guns the latter were whisked further up the rise where they could get a better chance to shell the chosen position of the Belgian battery.
It seemed to get more and more exciting every second. None of the boys said a single word; they were too intensely interested in looking; and besides, the riot of noise was now at its height, so that they would have had to shout in order to have made themselves heard, even close at hand.
Doubtless there had already been many casualties on both sides, with all that furious bombardment at close range; but the smoke hid much of this from the eyes of the spectators. Thad was of the opinion the Germans could not have known of the Belgian battery at the bridge; he believed that had they been aware of it in all probability their battery would have taken up its stand on the crown of the hill where the four scouts stood, from which point they could have made it too warm for the Belgians to remain there below.
All at once Thad realized that the infantry columns had been hurrying along the road and scattering through the fields near by. He caught glimpses of their number and was amazed when he saw they must be in the thousands. Other batteries also began to show up back along the road. This was not a sporadic dash on the part of a mere detachment of the German force, but an advance of the main army, bent on getting around the stumbling block at Liége.
And to himself Thad was saying:
“They mean to take that bridge, no matter how many lives it costs them, for it is an important link in their general plans.”
Giraffe was calling out something. It chanced that there was a little lull in the roar of guns, and they could hear what he was saying.
It seemed to give the finishing thrill to the situation, as though the grand climax had been reached.
“Look! Oh, see what they’re meaning to do, fellows!” was what Giraffe cried at the top of his shrill voice. “The order’s been given to charge the bridge, and as sure as you live there they go with a rush!”
And Bumpus hurriedly put his hands before his eyes, though possibly peeping through between his fingers, impelled by some dreadful fascination.
Through the clouds of powder smoke they could see that the Germans were moving toward the bridge in solid ranks, shoulder to shoulder, in the favorite formation of the Kaiser’s troops, and one which gives them confidence to march straight into the jaws of certain death.
Other detached groups were hastening down to the bank of the river, apparently with the idea of swimming across in some fashion, so as to gather on the opposite shore, and take the hostile battery in the rear.
It was all wonderfully exciting, and no boy could stand there gazing at such a stirring spectacle himself unmoved. So many things were happening all the time that as Giraffe afterwards said, it was like “trying to see a three-ringed circus, where amazing feats were being enacted in all three rings at the same time.” A fellow would have need of several pairs of eyes if he expected to lose nothing of all that went on.
As the head of the attacking column drew nearer the bridge the Belgian gunners stopped firing at the battery above. They turned their guns directly at the close ranks of the oncoming host.
When Thad actually saw a shell explode in the midst of that pack of gray-garbed men, and noted the terrible gap that followed he felt sick for the moment. He was, however, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight; it was so novel, so fascinating, and so dreadful that it held his gaze as the pole does the needle of a compass.
There was not the slightest sign of a stop, even though other shells tore ugly gaps through the lines. To Thad it almost seemed as though those men were parts of a vast machine which, having been set in motion, could not be stayed.
One thing he noticed, and this was that the Belgian battery was entirely unsupported. If ever the Germans managed to push across the bridge they would easily smother the few gallant defenders of the highway to Brussels.
From this Thad judged that the few Belgians at the bridge must have their plans all arranged, and that when they found their cause hopeless there would be a sudden change of front. Perhaps they would bring the horses forward, and try to save their field-pieces from capture.
Now some of those who had hurried to the edge of the water were wading in, holding their guns high above their heads. Others ran up and down the bank looking for any kind of old boat that could be utilized in order to transport a few at a time across to the other side.
There were still a considerable number who hastened along the bank toward the abutment of the bridge. The intention of these latter could not well be mistaken, for they meant to gain access to the structure, regardless of the success or failure of the general assault.
Suddenly in the midst of all this clamor a shadow fell athwart the four scouts standing on that rise, and staring downward. Looking up they discovered an aeroplane, low down, and speeding swiftly toward the spot where that desperate fight for the possession of the bridge was taking place.
Thad instantly recognized another of those Taube machines, so different in construction from all others that, once noticed, they could never again be mistaken. Then it was a German aviator who served as pilot aboard that little buzzing craft. He should have covered the field before the soldiers came, and his report might have made a difference in the attack.
As it was now he headed straight for the half-concealed Belgian battery, as though it might be the intention of the man aloft to drop bombs on the gunners, and help to create a panic among them.
Somehow the boys found themselves compelled to follow the flight of the birdman as he swooped down and crossed the river. Whether there was a bridge or not made no difference to him. He was as free to come and go as the swallow that on swift wing flashes past the house chimney of a summer evening.
Looking intently Thad could even see when he raised his arm, and he knew the precise instant the bomb had been thrown. Allowing his eyes to drop to the ground he saw a sudden burst of smoke and realized that that was where the deadly little missile had burst.
Still swinging around in a circle the birdman commenced hurling other menacing missiles. Each time the result could be seen in the puff of smoke close to the Belgian battery; but at that distance it was impossible for Thad to make sure that any casualty followed those repeated thrusts.
But now the head of the attacking German force had reached the bridge. Fearful had been the price they paid for this advantage; but fresh men had closed up the gaps, so that they were just as densely packed as ever when they came to the end of the structure.
A gun had been so placed that it commanded the length of the bridge. When it was fired there followed a shrinking of the whole front of the attacking force, as if it had been terribly smitten. That was just for a second, and then the red lane was closed by the gray flood, and the first hostile feet were set upon the bridge.
Undoubtedly the crisis was now at hand. Thad fairly held his breath with anticipation with what was to come though he could not even give so much as a guess as to its nature.
Surely those valiant Belgians must have prepared against such an eventuality as this, and would not be caught napping. There was no force in hiding that Thad was able to discover, ready to burst into view, and grapple with the oncoming Germans after they had gotten fully upon the bridge.
Ah! from above he saw the horses dashing madly to the spot! Then the Belgians meant to withdraw while there was still time. But it seemed incredible to Thad that they should leave the bridge intact in the hands of the invaders.
He quickly understood when, without the slightest warning, there came a mighty shock that made the very earth quiver, and the further end of the bridge was seen to vanish into space, accompanied with a rising cloud of smoke.
They had blown up the bridge when realizing the futility of further resistance against the superior numbers of the Germans.
When the great cloud of smoke had cleared away sufficiently for the scouts to again see what was going on they found that the horses had been attached to such of the Belgian guns as were in condition, and already the foremost was moving along the road leading directly away from the ruined bridge.
A few of the soldiers who had crossed the river tried to take pot shots at the gunners who lay as flat as they possibly could while riding the horses, or holding on to the caissons.
The battle was over, and, looking down at the ruins of the bridge, Thad was of the opinion that it had ended in favor of the defenders. True they had been obliged to sacrifice the bridge in the end, but that mattered little since they had balked the design of the invaders to seize and use the crossing of the river. Now much time must be wasted in building another bridge, or else in seeking a new way for crossing the river with their guns.
As the smoke lifted further the boys could see what was going on. Many must have been injured when the bridge was blown up, for there was great scurrying to and fro, with men bearing stretchers in evidence.
Bumpus had allowed his hands to fall from his eyes now, though he could be seen shaking his head after a sad fashion. Plainly Bumpus was stirred to the depths of his heart by the conviction that there must be scores of those who were terribly wounded down there, and who needed attention the worst kind.
Had Thad only given the word that would have taken them to the aid of the suffering Germans Bumpus would have gladly responded, even though his knowledge of surgery was confined to the first elements of binding up a wound.
But Thad did not mean to attempt such a thing. He knew that soldiers would never permit inexperienced boys like they were to play the part of army hospital attendants. They were amply supplied with all the necessary means for saving life; and besides, soldiers are taught never to grumble no matter how long they have to wait after being shot down on the battlefield, before their chance comes for attention.
Those who had actually stemmed the current of the river only to find that their intended prey had escaped them were seen rushing about on the other bank. They may have been looking for wounded Belgians to make prisoners; Thad hoped it was not any desire to kill that animated them in the bitter hour of defeat.
“Gee! is there no end to the procession?” exclaimed Giraffe, as he could still see countless numbers of the same gray-coated soldiers swarming out of the woods to the west, and coming on in serried ranks.
“Just to think of the nerve of that one little battery trying to hold a whole army corps in check!” declared Allen. “It strikes me these Belgians are the bravest of the brave, and mean to fight for their country to the last gasp.”
“Do you know what I believe?” demanded Giraffe, as though a sudden thought had come into his head.
“Tell us, please, Giraffe,” asked Bumpus.
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if that battery we watched do all this fighting was the identical one I saw come into that town. You remember I told you about the chat I had with a young gunner who could talk United States? I hope now he isn’t one of those who are lying across the river, where the German shells and bullets caught them.”