by E. J. Craine
CHAPTER VII
"MOPPING 'EM UP!"
FROM below there suddenly burst a dangerous bombardment. The Germangunners hidden in the camouflaged pile of rocks had apparently decidedthat the airmen in the two-seated plane hovering above had discoveredtheir place of concealment, and, unable to endure the thought of beingflanked by the oncoming boys in khaki, had opened fire.
Of course their plan was to bring down the American machine and seal thelips of those who flew in it before they could communicate the nature oftheir discovery to their comrades.
This made the situation doubly perilous for Jack and Morgan. If theyattempted to rise, as discretion suggested, there were those three grimmonster Hun Gothas waiting to envelop them with an avalanche of gunfire.This could have only one result; namely, the destruction of the planebearing the totem of the Red Indian's head.
It was a time for quick decision. As the deadly missiles from belowcontinued to pepper the air around them, and even beat a tattoo againstthe body of their plane, Jack started into a series of wigwag evolutionswhich he had evolved for just such a desperate situation.
This gave him a better chance, although at any second one of the flyingbullets was apt to find its way aboard and do either himself or Morganan ill turn.
Whichever way he turned so wheeled those sentry planes above. They werelike a trio of hungry cats watching the twistings and turnings of a poormouse that had its safety-hole stopped up, and could find no means ofescape left open. And with three agile cats on guard what chance hadlittle Mr. Mouse?
But then Jack Parmly had often proved himself to be one of those whorefuse to call themselves beaten until the very last effort has beenmade. He had been in tight places before, and had always managed towriggle out by some means or other.
Besides this, there was some hope that his predicament would be seen byother American airmen scouring around the skies, who, with theaccustomed daring of their breed, would fly immediately to his relief.
Even as this thought flashed through his brain Jack believed he heardthe sound of firing directly above him; though it was only because of asudden lull in the continual fighting all through that region that hewas able to discover this fact.
Then came a yell from Morgan, who, not having to manipulate the motorand handle the levers, had been better able to observe all that wasgoing on around them.
"Shoot up, Jack? We've got to do our share in driving those Boches off!"
Yes, there had been an increase in the number of circling planeshovering over them, since Jack could now count five. All were in violentmotion, circling this way, and darting the other, rising and falling ina movement only adopted when a fierce engagement was on.
Even though their flight was so rapid Jack quickly made the twonewcomers out to be friends, for they handled machines similar to hisown.
That opened a way for him to escape possible destruction at the hands ofthe gunners below, who were increasing their volume of fire. So up Jackturned the nose of his plane, and quickly reached the elevation whereall this work was going on.
So the battle of the six enemy planes began, Jack immediately singlingout one of the Huns for his own particular attention. Alert, eager, andfairly itching to get even with the Boche fliers for the fright theyhad given him, Morgan crouched in his seat, ready to start firing whenthe first favorable moment came along.
It must have been an inspiring sight to any who watched the fight frombelow; at least, if he wore the khaki of the American army boys. TheGermans would hardly be so apt to suck consolation from the picture,since it early became apparent that their representatives no longerattacked with dash and enthusiasm, but seemed to be acting solely on thedefensive.
They may have been veteran aces, with a long list of disabled planes totheir individual credit, but there was something about the dash and vimof these Yankee fliers that combined all the better qualities of bothBritish and French airmen, and discouraged the enemy greatly.
Jack swooped down upon his antagonist, and fired when he fancied he hadthe enemy in range of his machine-gun fire. The Boche on his part wasreciprocating, so that the exchange of shots was mutual.
They passed at a little distance like swallows on the wing, the gunschattering and smoking, and the air filled with a shower of missilesthat for the most part would be utterly wasted.
Then Morgan took up the challenge, and continued to pepper the speedingGotha as long as it remained within range. A turn on the part of Jackput a temporary end to the bombardment. But now they were once morespinning toward the enemy.
Around them a wild scene was being enacted, with the other quartette ofplanes swooping down on each other.
Apparently all this work had so far been without result; but Jack couldplainly see that the Huns were quite satisfied with what little they mayhave accomplished in the battle, and were anxious to pull out.
As if a concerted signal had been given, the three Gothas were soon inretreat. No doubt the sight drew many a hoarse, derisive yell fromwatching Americans below, who could not understand the feeling ofextreme caution that would tempt an air pilot to turn tail and run forhome when opposed on equal terms.
They made excellent speed, too, and after chasing them for a shortdistance the Americans turned back. There was work much more importantawaiting their attention just then than following the fleeing Bochefliers to some spot, where possibly a swarm of their mates would beturned loose to cut off escape and bring the daring Americans down.
One of the two friendly machines that had so opportunely come to therelief of Jack and Morgan now approached. To the delight of Jack herecognized in the muffled figure waving a gloved hand at him no otherthan Harry Leroy.
"A bunch of slick runners all right, Jack!" bawled Nellie's brother, asthe two planes passed not far distant from each other.
"They're all right when three to one!" answered Jack, as he circled inorder to keep close to the other for a brief time.
"What luck?" demanded Harry; for of course that was the one importantsubject ever on their minds when thus out hunting for hidden snipers'nests.
"Got two to-day so far," called Jack. "Then came over here looking for aboss nest. Found it, too, down there; and we're going now to see whatour battery boys can do with it."
"Fine work, Jack! Here's wishing you luck. We'll move along and see ifwe can duplicate your job!"
"Success to you!"
So they separated there, far above the seemingly endless forest wherethe two opposing armies were grappling in a death grip, the one bent onvictory, the other striving desperately to put off the evil day as longas possible, in the hope of a break in their favor.
Jack knew what he and Morgan had next to do. It was to begin signalingto catch the attention of the observers with the American batteries,doubtless waiting impatiently for a chance such as this, and which thusfar had been denied them.
He was at the proper altitude, safe from fire from below, and with allenemy planes driven off. The growl of the big guns came less furiouslyto their ears, so far removed from the ground were they. The incessantwhir of the Liberty motor that had come from American shops and the buzzof the propellers rendered it difficult for him to hold converse withhis assistant.
"Felix, have you got your bearings sized up O K?" he called out.
"I could drop a bomb for a direct hit, Jack, if I had one," came theconfident answer.
"All right then; go to it."
As Morgan was the observer and signal man of the combination it nowbecame his duty to make use of the flags intended to convey the newsthat one of those reported "strong nests," carrying from half a dozen ofthe largest Boche machine-guns all the way up to twice that, had beenlocated.
Jack managed the machine so that his assistant might be best served. Andas Morgan knew just about where to look for an answering flag hepresently gave tongue in a way that told of success.
"Raised him, Jack!" he called out joyously. "Swing around more to theleft and we'll be exactly over that den. There! I c
an drop the smokesignal now, all right, and well soon see what comes of it."
Immediately afterwards those in the distance who were eagerly watchingevery action of the hovering plane must have seen through their powerfulglasses a trail of smoke dropping from its body. It signified that justat that moment the Yankee flier was hanging over the object to which theattention of the gunners was called.
Quickly would the necessary calculations be made, while Jack keptcircling around and around, just as a buzzard might when it had locateda promising feast below.
Jack, too, watched that sector as well as he could and attend to hisduties at the same time. He wished he had the binoculars in his handsjust then, while he steered with his knees; but it was more importantthat Morgan retain possession of the glasses.
A yell from the observer announced that something had happened of apleasing character. Jack guessed its nature even before he heard theother shouting.
"They've begun business, Jack! The whole battery let loose then inconcert! Say, there's yet another close by! And yes, they're breakinginto the game too! Oh, you Boche, I pity you now, nix!"
Jack looked directly below. He realized that a whole flock of Yankeemade shells was passing through the air, bound for the point of contact.At the same time he wondered why there had not been a single shot firedfirst as a feeler. The officers in charge must indeed be very confidentthat they had figured to a fraction to thus risk wasting preciousammunition.
A second, several of them, slipped away.
Then there came an upheaval below, followed by a succession of similarexplosions that must have shaken the very earth. A dense cloud of smokearose. Morgan now had his glasses fixed on the spot where all thisfurious hurricane of fire had fallen.
He did not shout, but continued to stare. The wind drifted the pall ofsmoke aside, and even Jack with unaided eye could determine that amarvelous change had taken place down there since last he looked.
"Let me have the glasses, Morgan!" he cried, unable to believe his eyesand wishing further confirmation.
Still silent as though awed, the observer obeyed. Jack knew from thelook on the other's face about what he might expect to see even beforehe could raise the binoculars to his own eyes.
Then he too held his breath in very astonishment.
Never could there have been made a finer calculation than the one thatsent such an avalanche of shells hurtling through several miles ofspace, to land exactly on a marked spot. In a thousand times the sameresult might not have been secured again.
Jack saw desolation down there. For a space of a hundred feet, hejudged, earth and rocks and camouflage material had been thrown in everydirection by the falling shells, a dozen or more in number and of themost destructive character known. A vast gaping hole told where the nesthad been.
Not a single man of all those waiting Boche gunners could have escapeddestruction. Jack could see the bodies of several hanging from theneighboring trees, from which in turn most of their branches had beenstripped.
He turned an awe-stricken face to Morgan as he cried out:
"Send them the hold-up signal, Morgan, to tell them they've knocked thenest to flinders and that there's no need of wasting another shot onit!"