CHAPTER XXI.
HELD IN WARSAW.
THE din of battle had long since ceased to be an inspiration of terrorwith the Boy Aviators. They were case-hardened by continual contactwith the war game, and too careless, perhaps, of flying lead.
Reclining in the trenches, they indulged in all sorts of surmises as tothe whereabouts of Roque and Schneider, wagered back and forth, one wayand the other, on the proposition of whether the chief would appear inperson within the allotted time or put it up to them to interpret themessage in Billy's pocket.
With the passing of two days, the hours in the next one seemed to moveon leaden wings.
"I don't even know in what direction to look for his coming,"complained Henri. "If he is coming," he corrected himself.
"No use getting in a stew about it," advised Billy, concealing the factthat he himself was nearing the boiling point as the last few hours ofwaiting wore away.
The morning of the fourth day, and no sign or sight of the absentees.
Billy and Henri sat in council, and the former opened the paper thathad haunted his dreams during the previous restless night.
"If alive, we are in Warsaw."
"I guessed that once." Billy lifted his eyes from the paper.
"Go on," impatiently urged Henri.
"Of either fact you may learn by following instructions. You are to bring both biplanes, early morning, and circle over the city. In the south section you will note tall column with figure on top in center of square. Back of same is elevation on which rise two towers. Watch these. If one flag shows, hold over high road running west; if two flags, sail north and land at lodge house where canary sang for us. There wait. If highroad route (one flag), see red scarf signal for drop. When you read and commit these lines destroy."
"What a system that old fox controls," observed the reader. "Killingone of his men didn't close the show in Warsaw. Do you get all this,pard?"
"I think I do," asserted Henri, "but let me go over it again to besure."
Both boys having Roque's communication pat in their minds, Billy tossedit into the flames of the nearest campfire.
The aviation lieutenant serving with the division gave them free reignand all possible assistance in preparing for their flight. He asked noquestions.
Crossing the river, the young aviators ascended to great altitude,hardly visible to any casual ground view, and taking lower levelsgradually over the city. Each with an eye on the compass, the pilotsmentally rehearsed their instructions.
Operating in unison, though a hundred yards or more apart, they checkedspeed when sighting the burnished tower tops showing above all otherstructures on the south line, first identified by the tall column andits surmounting statue in the square.
The aerial maneuvering continued for a seeming quarter of an hour, andwhile the sun rays splintered on the glistening turrets over which theywere keeping vigil, no other manifestation appeared.
Through this long exposure to the danger of attracting unwelcomeattention, the boys were momentarily expecting some aeroplanedemonstration from the Russian military camps showing to the east.
On the highroad, finally, the aviators saw two horsemen galloping theirmounts towards the hill, and then lost to view between the twin basesof the towers.
A flag swung out from one of the tiny windows under the gilded domes.
One flag:
The signal to hold over the road, which stretched whitely for a mile ormore and merged into the fertile fields without the city.
The red scarf next. Would it call the suspended biplanes in swift swoopto the earth?
Skilled hands gripped the levers in readiness to instantly respond tothe signal.
A cart with two muffled figures in it rumbled leisurely down the road.There was no urging of the sorry steed straining at its belled collar.
The biplanes perceptibly lowered, though it was merely guess work onthe part of the aviators. The movement of the cart might have been justone of ordinary traffic, the occupants just plain, everyday peasants.
Suddenly the hovering airmen got a signal, but not the expected flashof scarlet. One of the carters, a big fellow, rose from his seat andfrantically waved his arms, and the boys were then so near that theycould plainly see that he varied the queer performance by pointingskyward with the long whip he was holding.
So intent had been the aviators in trailing the cart that they hadneglected for a time to look elsewhere about them.
The gestures of apparent warning that they were witnessing returnedtheir wits to normal, and what they had from the first low flightfeared was about to be realized. Barely a half mile away, and buzzingtoward them, were three aeroplanes, which, unnoticed by the otherwiseengaged lads, had risen from the Russian camp.
Billy and Henri, now wholly confident that the antics that had awakenedthem to the impending peril were those of no other than Schneider, gavethat good friend a parting salute of cap waving and turned about atfull speed to lead a stern chase over and beyond the city--far beyond,it proved.
The pursuing biplanes, of the largest type, carried a crew of three meneach, and that they had tremendous motor power was evidenced by theircatapult coming.
But, light-weighted, the No. 3's were not to be easily overhauled. Itmust have been a contrary spirit that induced Billy and Henri to doother than head across the river to the German camp.
They were in their element, however, and it was the kind of exploitingthat most appealed to them. Keeping out of range of the guns of theirarmed pursuers was the first care, and no other care had the lads howlong the chase continued.
They would even hold, as a bait to keep the fun going. That graveconsequences might follow capture was not at all an issue. The boys hadno thought of aught else than that they were jockeying in an aeroplanerace.
How far afield they had driven they did not realize until with waningday they had outdistanced their pursuers.
They were compelled to land in strange territory, for they fearedto take the chance of exhausting the supply of petrol carried bythe aeroplanes, and, besides, the continued strain on the aviatorsthemselves was beginning to tell.
"Oh, for a 'lodge in some vast wilderness,'" spouted Billy in actorstyle. He had a very pleasant memory of that lodgekeeper's kitchen, inwhich they, cold and hungry, had been warmed and fed. "I'd like mightywell," he added, "to hear that canary twitter right now."
"Barring all that," remarked Henri, "we might be in a worse fix,considering that we have something to eat with us and a good pair ofblankets for a bed."
"I am not particularly impressed with these surroundings, though,"argued Billy, "a swamp on one side, a bunch of stunted willows on theother, and a regular no man's land front and back."
"Oh, quit your kicking, Buddy, and let's make the best of it."
Henri started for the willows, in the hope of finding enough drymaterial to make a fire.
He succeeded in coaxing a small blaze out of a little pile of twigs.
Dead tired, the boys rolled into their blankets and slept like logs.But they had a rude awakening, particularly in the case of Billy.
As he lay snoring, a flash more vivid than lightning dragged him outof dreamland, and his hands flew to his eyes to protect them fromthe blinding glare. A searchlight was playing full on his face. Heheard the clatter of horses' hoofs, and before he could see what washappening, a hand was on his shoulder and a revolver was pressedagainst his breast.
Henri, startled into sitting posture, looked dazedly upon theproceedings.
A Russian cavalryman, dismounted, was behind the revolver, and thesearchlight was directed from a wagon.
A stalwart figure in gold and brown, an officer in the service of theCzar, moved briskly into the circle of light to inspect the prisoners.
Stroking his tawny mustache, he concluded brief comment with a shortlaugh. Translated, what he said was:
"You have caught a pair of lambs, Peter."
The soldier addressed a
s Peter hastily restored the revolver to hisbelt.
Another soldier just then discovered the biplanes, and the officerdeemed this find of great importance. He tried the French language onthe boys in starting a series of blunt questions.
"Who and what are you?" he demanded.
"Aviators by profession, foreigners by birth, and prisoners because wecouldn't help ourselves."
The officer smiled at Henri's smart answer.
"I suppose you came to this spot in those machines?"
"Yes, sir," replied Henri, less snappy in tone.
"We will hear more from you when we get to Warsaw," advised the Russian.
"Shades of Tom Walker," thought Henri, "'out of the frying pan into thefire.'"
"Peter and I will go along with you by the air route," proposed theofficer; "I like the looks of those machines. We need them. Now, Peter,you must not let your pilot run away with you."
Peter grinned and tapped the butt of his revolver.
Captain Neva, for such was the Russian officer's title and name, wasa rather advanced amateur in knowledge of aircraft, and he shrewdlyestimated the value of the prizes that had come to his hand on thisnight's march. The subaltern, Peter, had also some flying experience,though he preferred a good horse under him rather than a board, andhe, too, noted the fine points of the No. 3's.
"A pretty present for the general, my captain," he rejoiced, "and allready for delivery."
The boys were given a substantial breakfast, and Henri learned thatthey were about 150 miles north of Warsaw. As this was figured onstraight line measurement, the aviators realized that in the excitementof yesterday's racing they must have left the direct course many times,for considering the time they were in the air and the speed maintained,150 miles was not a great distance.
From one of the many wagons, loaded with ammunition and militarysupplies of all sorts, was produced a fresh supply of petrol for thebiplanes.
"You see, we have quite a number of these flying machines up inWarsaw," explained Captain Neva to Henri, "and we are carrying plentyof this stuff to feed them."
In a few minutes the biplanes were off for Warsaw, Henri and thecaptain in one machine, Billy and Peter in the other.
Three hours later the boys walked behind the captain into armyheadquarters, and soon into the presence of a man of most distinguishedbearing, in full field uniform of a Russian general. Though gold lacesparkled on his shoulders and his cuffs, the striking note of hisattire was the orange and black ribbon of the Cross of St. George thatappeared along the buttoned edge of his field coat.
Captain Neva presented the compliments of his colonel, told of thenear approach of the supply wagons and convoying troops, and mentionedthe handsome addition to the aerial fleet so luckily and peculiarlyacquired. The captain's brief relation of the latter incident, a littlebreak in the pall of war, seemed to interest the general, for heglanced at the lads, standing at respectful attention nearby.
"What is your name?" he asked, speaking in French, and looking directlyat Henri.
The boy politely bowed and named himself.
"I would conclude from the sound that I have spoken in a tongue withinyour complete understanding. And the other?"
Henri registered Billy, name and nation.
The boy from Bangor flushed with gratification when the general, inexcellent American, called him forward.
"You're a long way from home, young man."
Billy admitted the fact, and added, "I have been wishing many times oflate, sir, that the distance could be reduced three-fourths and I hadalready traveled the other fourth."
With the incoming of the staff members, reporting from the front, thegeneral consigned the boys for the present to the custody of CaptainNeva.
"They've wasted no time," observed Billy, pointing to the familiarlines of the No. 3's, glistening with new color.
That a couple of Polish carters should happen to be gaping at theaviation show was not an unusual occurrence or usually worthy of notice.
But there are carters and carters, and some seeming carters are notcarters at all!
Our Young Aeroplane Scouts in Germany; or, Winning the Iron Cross Page 21