Air Service Boys Flying for Victory; Or, Bombing the Last German Stronghold
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CHAPTER III
JACK'S STRANGE FIND
"LETTERS!" exclaimed Tom, as he entered the building where he had hisheadquarters. "One for me from home, and two for Jack," he went on, ashe hurriedly sorted the little pile.
"Nice!" was his next ejaculation, as he looked at the postmark on thenext letter he picked up. "Who is writing to me from Nice? I don't knowanybody in the south of France."
The next letter he picked up was also postmarked "Nice." This one wasaddressed to Jack Parmly, was more than twice the thickness of the oneaddressed to Tom, and was in the same girlish handwriting.
"Bessie Gleason!" This was Tom's third exclamation. Then he slit theenvelopes of his letters one after another and sat down to read hismail.
While he is engaged in this apparently pleasing occupation, and at thesame time keeping an anxious eye out for the coming of his chum, Jack,it might be just as well to explain a little further who these daringyoung American air pilots were, and also tell something concerning theirprevious exploits.
Tom Raymond and Jack Parmly had both been born in Virginia, and there,at a government school for aviation training, they had taken their firstlessons in flying, after the world war broke out. They decided to followthat calling in case the United States should be eventually swept intothe war.
Tom's father was an inventor whose secret papers concerning a wonderfulairplane stabilizer had been stolen by an adroit German spy. Afterwardsthe two chums when in France had managed to recover these documents, aswell as accomplish many other brilliant exploits, all this being told inthe first volume of this series, entitled: "Air Service Boys Flying forFrance; or, The Young Heroes of the Lafayette Escadrille."
In the second volume Tom and Jack proved their right to be calledfirst-class air pilots by battling with success against Hun fliers. Theysaw considerable of the tragic happenings that convulsed that portion ofFrance, while they were connected with the famous French flying corps.
Here, too, these young Air Service boys again found an opportunity forproving their worth in the rescue of pretty Bessie Gleason and hermother from an old chateau in Lorraine where Carl Potzfeldt, a Germanspy, had them imprisoned. These interesting and exciting events will befound in the second volume of the series, entitled: "Air Service BoysOver the Enemy's Lines; or, The German Spy's Secret."
Then came another series of happenings that must always appeal to boyreaders fond of thrilling scenes, for in the next book, among many otherthings, is told how Tom and Jack succeeded in silencing the monstercannon that from a distance of sixty miles and more was bombardingParis. That will be found narrated in "Air Service Boys Over the Rhine;or, Fighting Above the Clouds."
Then there is the volume just preceding this, in which again the twobrave young Yankee air pilots were given an opportunity to prove thevalue of their training, now in the service of the American forces, forGeneral Pershing had come across the sea, and his army was beginning tomake its presence felt at several sectors of the battleline.
What they saw and did, as well as vivid descriptions of the momentousevents accompanying the great German drive is told in the fourth bookof the series, "Air Service Boys in the Big Battle; or, Silencing theBig Guns."
Among their friends at the front was a young and daring aviator, HarryLeroy by name, who had had the misfortune to be shot down behind theGerman lines, and it was in connection with his discovery and rescue bythe chums that some of the events of the last volume came about.
And it may as well be confessed here that Tom felt more than a passinginterest in the pretty sister of Harry, for Nellie Leroy was serving hercountry as a Red Cross nurse, being just then in one of the Americanfield hospitals to which the wounded were being carried day after daywhile the Argonne drive was on.
Tom was a full hour and more reading his letters, rereading them, anddreaming over them. After their rescue from the chateau Mrs. Gleason andBessie had gone to Paris, where the mother, ably assisted by herdaughter, had thrown herself into Red Cross work. Now, so Bessie's notetold Tom, her mother was very tired and the two had gone down to Nicefor a brief rest. It would be perfect, Bessie wrote, if only Tom andJack and Nellie Leroy were with them.
For a while Tom lost himself in the thought of being at Nice, by theblue sea, with Mrs. Gleason and Bessie and Nellie--especiallyNellie--and with Jack. With Jack! That thought aroused him.
Still no Jack! He grew more and more concerned, and began to picture allsorts of grievous things as having happened to his chum.
Several times he thought he heard the well known voice near by, but oneach occasion discovered that he had deceived himself. Tom felt he couldstand it no longer, and had even commenced to set forth when, to hisdelight, he discovered Jack coming.
"But what's he doing with that mite of a French child?" Tom askedhimself, staring in wonder and perplexity. "A cunning little girl sheseems to be; but a battlefield isn't just the place for such aninnocent. Poor thing! I suppose she's lost all her kin, and Jack broughther along because he couldn't let her stay at the ruins of her home andstarve."
He was so filled with joy over the coming of his chum, who did not seemto be wounded in the least, that everything else was forgotten.
"Letters from home, Jack, old scout; hurry your stumps!" he called out,waving the epistles above his head.
Jack, still in his pilot's dress, was so eager to hurry that he pickedup the little six-year-old French child, and ran the last fifty yards.
"Did you get any yourself, Tom?" he demanded, as he came up; and thenimmediately added: "I see you have some, and by the same token one ofthem has a French stamp on it--from Nice!"
"Oh, it's Bessie Gleason," said Tom with a twinkle in his eye. "Youremember my telling you she promised to write to me if I'd answer andlet her hear what stunts the air boys were pulling off over here in theArgonne. Let you read it if you care to, Jack."
"Very good of you, Tom," grinned the other. "But excuse me while I lookover my own letters. And say, perhaps you'll make friends with thislittle girl here until I get through. I've got something to tell abouther that will give you a thrill, I reckon."
It was just like Jack to say enough to set his chum guessing, and thenleave him "up in the air" so to speak. Tom looked again at the child. Hecould see that he had made no mistake when thinking she was winsome, atfirst sight. He also knew that it would be impossible to make Jack talkuntil he had read several times over the letter Bessie had written tohim, and it was a very fat letter.
"Come and make friends with me, little girl," Tom said. "Can you speakEnglish, I wonder, or will I have to try my stumbling French on you?What is your name?"
"It is Jeanne, M'sieu!" lisped the child, sweetly, and Tom was more thanever drawn toward her when he saw the appealing smile on her face.
"Jeanne, is it? A very pretty name too. Jeanne what?" he went on. And asTom always won the confidence of children by his kindly manner she drewcloser to him, and he took her little hand in his and squeezed it.
"Jeanne Anstey, M'sieu. And my sister's name, it is Helene," she toldhim.
"Oh! then you have a sister, have you?" Tom continued. "Where is Helenejust now, Jeanne?"
The child's eyes immediately filled with tears. Still, with a queerlittle French shrug that was almost comical in one so very young, shesaid pathetically:
"Ah, M'sieu, it is the pity that I do not know. That bad man took heraway while my poor mamma lay dying, trying to hold Helene. Me, mamma hidfrom the man. I sometimes wish it had been me he took on his horse withhim, instead of Helene."
Tom began to wonder what lay back of all this. He looked toward Jack, tosee that the other had paused in his reading as if to listen.
"Tell you all about it as soon as I get through this letter from mymother, Tom," the other remarked. "Well worth waiting to hear, too, Igive you my word. One of the queerest things that ever happened to me.I've already more than half promised Jeanne we'll try our level best tofind Helene, her twin sister, for her."
"Nice of you I
'm sure," chuckled Tom; "but I want to hear what it's allabout before I cast my vote. Little time we've got these busy days to gochasing around the country hunting for lost children, sorry as I feelfor the little thing."
"Just wait, and don't take snap judgment, that's all, Tom. Guess I knowabout how it'll strike you. Give me five minutes more to clean up here,and I'll tell you everything."
So Tom continued to amuse himself by talking with the wonderfully brightlittle French child, who proved more and more interesting on furtheracquaintance. Undoubtedly one of her parents had been English, a factwhich would account for her speaking the language so correctly. From hername of Anstey he concluded this must have been her father, while themother was very likely French, hence Jeanne and that other name, Helene.
"Now I'm ready to explain things, Tom," announced Jack, who wore themarks to tell that he, too, along with Tom, had reached the rank ofsergeant in the Flying Corps.
"Glad to hear you say so, because you've managed to get me as curiousas any old woman," grumbled Tom. "First of all, tell me how you faredback there over the battlelines. You didn't seem at all surprised tofind me here; yet I reckon you knew I took a tumble?"
"Oh, I met Lefty Marr on the way here, and he told me you'd come back ingood shape. But poor Hennessy was badly mauled, they say. How about him?As good an observer as there is in the whole sector!"
"Pretty badly knocked out, and his flying days are about finished, I'mafraid," Tom admitted. "He'll be months in the sick ward; and by thetime he gets to going we Yankees will have sewed up the game. Go to itnow, Jack."
"Oh, I managed to get in a circus after I saw you go down, Tom," theother replied. "I was feeling pretty punk and ugly because I didn't knowwhether I'd ever see you again, for it looked as if you'd either beenkilled or fallen into the hands of the Boches--and that was almost asbad a job.
"Well, we had a glorious little run for our money, and I sent down oneHun, and crippled another chap's machine so that he had to turn tail andscoot for home. Then came three other big Gothas that set me to spinningon my head. But after they'd chased me for miles, a leak in my tank letout every drop of petrol; and so the only thing to do was to drop downand make a landing.
"Luck favored us and we dropped on to a field. The Huns hung around abit as if they wanted to make sure of us; but Morgan and I managed tocrawl into a thicket, and so they went away finally.
"We were several miles from our base, and with no petrol to be had forlove or money. Morgan said he'd stay by the plane while I walked all theway to get a supply. Tom, it was the luckiest thing going for this childhere that I decided on taking that walk along the woods road; I don'tknow what would have become of her otherwise."
He stopped speaking to pat the black-haired child caressingly. That wasreally one of the finest things marking the conduct of the Americansoldiers in France--their respect for women and their love for children.Those boys in khaki captured myriads of French mothers' hearts by theway they romped with the youngsters and bought them all sorts ofdainties at the Y. M. C. A. huts.
"I came on her suddenly, and of course stopped to say a few words,because it is hard for me to pass a child by," Jack continued. "Andafter I'd asked her a few questions I found that I was getting mightilyinterested in Jeanne.
"Then she began tugging at something that was fastened by a ribbon abouther neck. I soon discovered it was a locket, somewhat battered to besure, but still pretty. She proceeded to try to open this, but herchubby little fingers didn't seem equal to the task, so I did it forher.
"It held a bit of very thin paper, and on taking this out I found it wascovered with writing, in French of course, and done with a lead pencilat that. Slowly I managed to make out what the letter said, for it was aletter, Tom, meant especially for me, simply because I had been, bychance, the one to stop and speak to the child.
"Listen now, Tom, and I'll read you what is written here on the paper,just as I managed to translate it. And be ready to hold your breath,too, because there's something of a real thrill connected with it."
"Shoot!" was all Tom said in reply.