CHAPTER IX.
THE LUMINOUS KITE.
THE biplane had hardly scudded its length on the turnpike, when thecolonel leaped from the machine, his sudden appearance greeted bysalvos, both of cheers and an extra round of rifle discharge.
Billy sat like a statue in the machine, facing a reserve force of grim,gray-garbed veterans standing at attention.
The front rank soldiers eyed the boy curiously, no doubt wondering thatone of his years should be serving in the capacity of a full-fledgedmilitary aviator on a mission so supremely perilous.
Billy could not understand what Colonel Muller was saying to thecommanding officer of this regiment, but he could see the effectsrippling through the serried lines, a stiffening of attitude, a closergrip of rifle stock and squaring of shoulders.
The column, solid and compact, the German practice of close formation,moved with clockwork precision down the field to back the generalcharge against the living wall that barred the way.
"Charge! Charge!" The cry from a thousand throats.
The forces mixed in a struggling, swaying mass, with indescribablenoises, the clashing of steel and the squealing of horses, for cavalryhad joined the fray.
Billy jumped out of the machine into the dusty road, the sole spectatorthere of the conflict that raged but a half mile distant.
Colonel Muller had taken to horse and was riding furiously to rallyincoming reinforcements for the gray column.
A rattle cut into the sound ruck--the machine guns of the Germans hadturned loose, and men were mowed down like ripened corn.
But fainter now in Billy's ears grew the roar of violent contention,alternate advance and retreat serving to shift the tide of battlefurther northward, and finally stemmed by the final demonstration ofthe day at Soissons bridge.
Barring the occasional wild gallop of a riderless horse down the road,the young aviator saw no signs of life about him, and he was too faraway to hear the groans of the wounded on the sodden field now enfoldedby the gathering gloom of evening.
"I wonder if the colonel has forgotten that his carriage is waiting,"thought Billy, trying a bit of mental cheer to relieve the strain ofhis trying position.
The colonel, however, had not lost his memory along with his hat, foreven then a foam-flecked horse was bringing him back to the driver ofhis aerial chariot. Mud-bespattered from head to foot, he sent a heartyhail ahead of the pounding hoofs of his weary mount.
"Ahoy, my stranded mariner: is supper ready?"
That reminded Billy of a decided vacancy under his belt, but the gladsight of the colonel was the best tonic for a drooping spirit.
"We will wheel this airship out of the way for a spell and have a biteto eat in the trenches."
Concealing the biplane behind a clump of bushes the colonel gave Billya hand-up, and the horse cantered away with its double burden in thedirection of the slopes.
It was about 7:30 when the colonel and Billy climbed over the slipperyslopes to the line of reserve trenches, lowered themselves into one ofthese holes in the ground, and it was evident that the occupants knewhow to convert a ditch into a home.
This trench had a head cover formed of cross-beams, overlaid withbranches and earth--a sure protection against shrapnel. There was along bench of telegraph poles, little cupboards for cartridges and kit,and ramps for reclining chairs or couches, and drains to carry off therain.
"Come into our parlor, colonel," invited one of the soldiers, leadingthe way into a subterranean chamber, which was warmed by a fire in anold perforated petroleum tin.
"It is wonderful what ingenuity and labor can accomplish out of themost unpromising material," observed the colonel.
"Made in Germany, colonel," laughed one of the veterans, "no matterwhere you put them."
From the business end of the trench a hot meal was speedily producedfor the visitors, adding another touch of surprise for Billy.
"Well, my lad, we must report to the general," announced the colonel,who had politely denied the petition of the trench veterans that he tryone of their couches for the night.
"You don't mind an air trip in the dark, do you?" inquired the colonel.
"Not a bit," assured Billy, "I've made many a one."
It was quite pitch black when the colonel and Billy rode back acrossthe plain, but the horse was sure-footed, and the way was fitfullylighted by the occasional upshoot of rockets that left a long greenstream of stars, revealing the now silent battlefield and its dreadfulrecord of uncounted dead.
While Billy flourished an electric torch in giving the biplane acareful look over, the colonel bestowed a playful slap on the flank ofthe faithful horse, which sent the animal trotting up the road.
"He knows his number and troop as well as I do, and will go asstraight as a die to the feed trough," asserted the colonel.
"Are you ready, boy?"
"Trim as a ship, colonel."
With a flare on the compass, rising high, Billy held the nose of thebiplane in the direction of the heights that centered headquarters.
Small red sparks glowed in the trenches below, and the upper darknesswas ever and anon split by signal rockets and leaping flames of lightfrom countless campfires.
Billy, with the aid of the small searchlight in the bow of thebiplane, found safe landing, also insuring a sight of the colors tothe sentries, who might otherwise be tempted to take a pot shot at thewinged, midnight visitor.
Henri was the first to hear the whirr of the incoming aircraft, forwhich he had for hours held an open ear.
"Here you are at last!" he exclaimed, making an open-arm break for hisflying partner. "You haven't lost an eye, or a leg, or anything, haveyou?" he anxiously inquired.
"Sound as an Uncle Sam dollar, old boy," assured Billy. "But you justbet I'm sleepy."
"I believe even Roque was uneasy about you," said Henri, as he insistedon giving Billy's blanket a snug tug.
That the secret agent proposed to reserve the services of the youngaviators to himself thereafter and during their stay in this localitywas made manifest when he told them the next day to make ready for aquick departure in the biplanes. As usual, he furnished no advanceparticulars.
It appeared that Schneider was also to figure in the expedition in acapacity indicated by his employment of oiling and polishing a servicerifle of the 16-shot brand, and the display of a pair of long-barreledrevolvers stuck in his belt.
"He looks like an arsenal on parade," commented Billy when thered-haired flyer, in war-like array, passed on the way to conferencewith Roque.
"There is no peaceful intent about that get-up," admitted Henri. "Andlet me make another prediction," he continued, still proud of his lastprevious success as a prophet, "this isn't going to be any pink tea orgarden party to which we're going."
"What a head you have," said Billy, beaming with mock admiration.
There was a decided lull in the fighting this day--the ninth since thecontinuous combat had been commenced, as the soldiers of the two armieswere apparently resting on their arms. Some fresh planning, no doubt,was in progress.
The boys wandered around the camp, restlessly anticipating the expectedsummons from Roque. The latter, however, had not picked daylight inwhich to operate, for it was long past nightfall when Schneider soughtand advised the boys that the starting time had arrived.
The moon was working full time when the biplanes set their course,following the turnpike toward La Fere.
Above a farm, which had practically been razed, and on the edge of aruined district, both Roque and Schneider signaled the pilots to lowerthe flight, and the biplanes circled groundward, landing near a rowof stunted willow trees. They showed no lights, and with the motorssilenced lay hidden behind a huge pile of debris, close to a wreckeddwelling, so close that the full moon shining through the shatteredroof gave the aviators a dim vision of hopeless confusion, cooking potsand children's toys, broken clocks and tables, knives, forks and booksstrewn on the floor, beds and everything awry.
Billy
and Henri had as yet no inkling of the purpose of this mysteriousproceeding in which they were engaged. Their companions did not seem tobe in a hurry, either, to enlighten them. Roque and Schneider appearedintent in upward gaze, perhaps hoping that the moon and a dense bank ofclouds forming near would soon come together. As a matter of fact, atotal eclipse of the great orb above did follow, with the effect of thesudden blowing out of the one lamp in an otherwise dark room.
Curious to relate, it was not long until the moon was replaced in thenow black canopy by a small but quite silvery brilliant imitation ofthe big illuminant.
The diamond-shaped light in the lowering sky flashed this way and that,as if responding to the manipulation of an aerial cable.
Roque was not puzzling about the appearance of the dancing light; itwas the message that it conveyed which baffled him, sent, as it were,from within the German lines, and, maybe, of vital concern--aid andcomfort to the enemy.
Sentries on the heights had reported night after night of this queer,intermittent flashing in this very place, and when Roque heard of it,he instantly comprehended the meaning.
Some spy within the lines was using a luminous kite to signalinformation of value to the foe.
This is what had brought the secret agent, an adept in the same kind ofgame, flying through the night to scotch the play and the player.
Roque and Schneider skirted the ruins, and stumbled over the plowedground with all the haste that such rough going permitted. The boys,free of any order to stay where they were, cautiously brought the rear.They were mighty curious to see what was going to happen.
Schneider had taken the electric torch from under the pilot's seat inone of the biplanes, and it had occurred to Billy to follow suit.This precaution served to save the party an ugly tumble or two intoforbidding ditches.
The still-hunters had just emerged into a road with a wonderful avenueof trees. The kite telegrapher's hidden nest was near at hand. Theposition of the kite itself indicated that.
A streak of moonlight breaking through a cloud-rift revealed Roque andSchneider kneeling in the road, and there was a glint of a leveledrifle barrel.
The boys backed up against a tree, expecting momentarily to hear thewhip-like crack of the gun. But instead came the bark of a dog--oneshrill yelp, then silence again.
The luminous kite, unleashed, followed the moon into the clouds. Roqueand Schneider dashed forward, but for nothing else than to use theelectric torch in locating a half-loaf of bread, some cheese crumbs anda ball of cord.
The sentry dog had saved its master!
"Nothing to be gained in chasing that fox to-night," growled Roque."He's deep in the brush before this."
"I'd like to have got a pop at the dog, at least," complainedSchneider, patting the stock of his rifle.
The boys having no desire to be the victims of any mistake of identity,marched forward, Billy waving the electric torch, and calling to Roque:
"It's us."
The passwords were unnecessary, for Roque knew all the time the boyswere trailing him, but was restrained from objecting by fear of someword reaching the ear of the man they were stalking.
"You gadabouts," he admonished, "you should have been guarding thebiplanes instead of prowling around in the dark like this."
The tone of the reprimand, however, was not one of great severity. Theboys had disobeyed no order, for none had been given.
"As soon as day breaks," said Roque, as they plodded wearily down theroad, "we will continue the hunt in the machines, though I doubt verymuch whether it will amount to more than a waste of time."
"If I see a man with a dog underneath us, just bring me within rifleshot, young man, and I will show you something fancy in the way ofgunning."
Henri, whom Schneider was addressing, mentally resolved that he wouldbe in no haste to perform as suggested.
Conditions, however, were reversed long before this test could be made.Indeed, the reversal, with the dawn, was at hand. The hunters were thehunted.
The thud of iron-shod hoofs, the clank of sabers--a troop of cavalrycharging through the wooded avenue--four madly racing footmen in thefurrowed field.
Full two hundred yards between them and the biplanes!
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Germany; or, Winning the Iron Cross Page 9