Air Service Boys Flying for Victory; Or, Bombing the Last German Stronghold

by E. J. Craine

  CHAPTER XII

  A LIVELY CHASE

  "THEY'VE gone," presently whispered Tom, in a disappointed tone.

  "Only hiding somewhere near by," Harry assured him, equally careful tolower his voice. "We'll begin to circle around, and presently rout themout. Be ready to jump the first chance you get, and let out a whoop atthe same time. It'll give 'em a shock, and start 'em to running. Thenwe'll soon have a pack on their heels."

  "What if they use their trench grenades on us?" asked Tom.

  "Not likely to except as a last resort. But we've got to take thechances. Dodge, that's all. Now to swing around the big hangar."

  Harry squeezed his companion's arm while saying this. Both of them werefairly quivering with the excitement, just as highly strung race horsescan be seen quivering while prancing up and down awaiting the tap of thebell that summons them to the wire for the start.

  It was not pitch-dark, but even the possessor of keen eyesight wouldhave had to look closely in order to make certain that a moving objectwas a human being and not a dog.

  Harry's surmise proved to be well founded, for they quickly discovered asuspicious movement close to the large hangar. Yes, the two Hun spieswere undoubtedly there, and already busily engaged in doing somethingthat could only mean trouble for the American escadrille.

  Closer the pair of watchers crept. They could now hear the menwhispering as they worked, and Tom even believed he caught a gutturalGerman word used. This convinced him their theory was founded on fact,and that these were secret enemies in the camp.

  Another half minute and he felt Harry nudge him. That meant the otherbelieved the time had arrived for them to make their leap; and when hefelt his companion start Tom stirred himself.

  Both let out a yell as they sprang forward. Tom more than half expectedto hear an explosion, thinking the Huns, on finding themselves caught inthe act, would fire their grenades promptly.

  Nothing of the kind came about. Instead both men instantly dropped flatand started to roll away with incredible swiftness, as though escape wasthe first thought in their minds.

  Tom hurled himself through space. His intention was to pin one of thespies to the ground and try to hold him there until help came. Theiroutcries would of course arouse every man within hundreds of yards ofthe spot, and lights must soon be brought to bear on the scene.

  Although Tom's calculations may have been all right, he did not meetwith as much success as he had probably anticipated. Perhaps the waryBoche guessed what was coming; at any rate he succeeded in squirmingfrom under, and when Tom landed it was only to feel the other rollingout of his reach.

  But he went after him like lightning, bent on attaining his goal.

  The Hun was scrambling desperately in the endeavor to get on his feet.Tom hurled him over, and closed with him. Finding his escape thus cutoff, the other commenced to fight like a tiger, clawing and strugglingfuriously.

  They had it "hammer-and-tongs" for a brief space of time. Then Tomslipped and lost his grip, upon which the other rolled over severaltimes, got to his knees, then his feet, and started to run.

  But he counted without reckoning on the staying qualities of theAmerican. Tom had always been called a "sticking-plaster" by his fellowplayers on the football field. He was not to be counted out of the gameuntil the last whistle sounded and the referee's falling hand closed thefun.

  So he was after his man with grim determination not to let him get away.Having gone to so much trouble, and received in addition severalscratches in the contest, he meant to keep everlastingly at it.

  The Boche dodged to one side, as there were men running toward them, andalready several lights had sprung up. Tom was close at his heels, andgaining rapidly, being spurred on by an ambition to complete the goodwork he and Harry had started.

  He saw the spy glance back over his shoulder. The situation must haveappeared very grave to the other, who could expect to meet with shortshrift if caught in the act of trying to destroy the hangars and planesof the American aviators in this bold fashion.

  Just then Tom saw the man raise his arm. Guessing what he intended todo, the Yankee air pilot dodged just in time. Some object went hissingpast, close to his head. An instant later there was a loud explosion inhis rear that seemed to make the very air quiver.

  Of course the Boche had hurled a grenade with the intention of makingfurther pursuit on the part of his persistent adversary impossible.

  Tom hoped that was the extent of his supply of such ammunition, for hemight not be quite so successful in avoiding the bomb another time.

  Again was the fleeing spy compelled to whirl aside because ofthreatening peril ahead. Dodging in and out between the khaki-coloredcanvas field hangars he sought desperately to throw Tom off his track;but no hound ever followed its quarry with more pertinacity than theYankee air pilot followed now.

  Then something happened. Tom came in collision with a runner, so thatthe two of them fell headlong to the ground. By instinct Tom hugged theother in his arms. He suspected on the spur of the moment that thismight be the other spy, trying to elude Harry, and cutting across histrack by the merest chance.

  The fellow struggled furiously, but Tom managed to get a good hold onhim, and kept it tenaciously. As the other was also clutching him hisfurther pursuit of the fleeing spy seemed doomed to failure; and so Tomfelt that the only thing left was to make sure of this party.

  "Hey, Tom, let go! You're choking me!" came a voice that electrifiedhim, and caused him to release his clutch.

  After all it was Harry upon whom he had fallen, Harry who having lostall track of his man was rushing wildly this way and that in hope ofonce again getting in touch with the fellow.

  "Quick, before it's too late, join me!" shrilled Tom, scrambling to hisfeet again as best he could, and feeling angry because of thisridiculous accident. "There he goes, Harry! After him again!"

  So they both started once more to run at top speed. The agile spy hadbeen able to put considerable distance between them while his pursuersstruggled on the ground, and seemed likely to escape. But there was onething that stood in his way.

  Men were running this way and that in every direction, calling to oneanother, and trying to understand what all the row was about. A squad ofoncoming hostlers blocked his passage. They evidently were beginning toget light on the situation, for discovering the panting runner they nowset up a concerted shout.

  This compelled the hunted Boche to turn again on his heel, and so helost a portion of his previous gain. Tom took fresh heart on seeingthis. Given one or two such lifts as this, and he believed he wouldagain come to hand grips with the fellow. And with Harry close at hisheels he fancied the next encounter would surely terminate badly for theHun spy.

  "Spread out some, Harry!" he managed to shout.

  His object in saying this was to make it more difficult for the Boche tohold his own when necessity compelled him to veer to one side. Theydodged the hangars that barred the way, running in and out of the lineswith the swiftness of a hare followed by the eager hounds.

  Once a waiting figure tried to bar the path of the spy, only to bepromptly bowled over. Desperation nerved the arm that struck that blow.The German knew that his chances were almost at the zero mark, and forthe time being he was like a wolf at bay, ready to snap right and leftand do what damage he could before yielding himself a prisoner.

  Once more Tom had made a gain. The Fates were favoring him, it seemed,and with set teeth he kept up the hot chase.

  Suddenly the Hun collapsed.

  Tom almost fell over him as he ran on; and when Harry came up wasbending above the spy, muttering to himself after the manner of a sadlydisappointed person.

  "What rotten luck for us, after all our work, Harry!" he complained, tothe utter bewilderment of his comrade.

  "I don't get your meaning, Tom!" exclaimed Harry. "This is one of theHuns, all right, and we've got him at last. What is there to kick about,I'd like to know?"

  "Why, don't you understand? He's w
ounded!" said Tom scornfully.

  "Wounded! How?" echoed the other, still groping for the truth.

  "Somebody shot him in the leg!" explained Tom, in disgust. "Just as Iwas bound to jump him in another ten seconds! Did you ever hear of suchtough luck? Took the wind right out of our sails, he did, by using hisgun. If he'd put a bullet in my leg I could hardly feel madder, for afact."

  Harry, however, quickly chuckled, as though he did not look at thematter in the same way as his chum seemed to.

  "Oh, well, the main thing isn't that we'd get a little glory from thecapture of the Hun," he said, "but that their desperate game has beenblocked. But this chap seems to be groaning as if suffering, Tom. Heought to be taken care of, Boche or not."

  "Yes, that's right, Harry," added the other, for the time being crushingdown his disappointment.

  As some of the attendants of the aviation field came up just at thatmoment there was need for explanations. Among them Tom noticed one who,as he well knew, had charge of the hangars during the night.

  "Lieutenant Simmons, here's a Boche spy who, with a companion, wastrying to bomb the big Beresford plane. Sorry we couldn't round up bothof them. This fellow has been shot, and ought to have attention. Now,Harry, if you don't mind, we'll step around to your hangar and look intothe little job that brought us over here from the camp."

  Tom really wished to get away from the crowd that was gathering. He hadno liking for being made an object of special interest. Although alwayseager to attempt unusual exploits, it was only to please himself, andnot because of any reward or a morbid desire to be looked on as a hero.

  Harry was not quite as diffident, and might have liked to linger a bitto explain further how they had managed to discover the creepingfigures, and, having their suspicions aroused, closed in on them.

  "I can see you later, Lieutenant, and answer any questions you may wantto ask about this stuff," he remarked, as he followed Tom away from thegroup.

  Tom was still "huffy" as Harry called it. He seemed to feel that theambitious marksman who had taken a pot-shot at the runner ahead hadreally cheated him out of half the pleasure accompanying the capture ofthe spy.

  "I heard one big splash," Harry said, "which I take it was made by atrench grenade. Did that Boche try to knock you out, Tom?"

  "Oh, he let loose with one of his sort, but it was the easiest thinggoing to duck under. He's got a lot to learn about flinging those littleknockers underhand. It takes a baseball pitcher to do the trick right.How about your man, Harry?"

  The other gave a grunt of disgust.

  "Nothing doing with that slick dodger, I tell you, Tom. He must havebeen a premium sprinter when at home, for the way he dodged in and outmade my brain reel. I kept after him as best I could, but, shucks! hewas in another class from me. And so I lost him in the shuffle. Hedisappeared just like a wisp of smoke in the breeze."

  "But you were still running like a hare when we banged into each other,unless I'm greatly mistaken," continued Tom humorously.

  "Sure I was! Trying to get a fresh glimpse of my duck. When I hit you Ithought it was that Boche, and then a light fell on your face, comingfrom that head-lamp on a motor truck some one suddenly turned on. Ireckon I'll have a beautiful lump on my forehead where I struck againsta pole while running. It knocked me flat, and that was when I lost myman."

  Tom now began to laugh.

  "A pretty lively skirmish, all told, when you come to think of it," heobserved. "I'll have to forget about that chap who was too quick on thetrigger, and only add up results. One Boche spy captured, wounded; andthe other gets away. But he's had his scare good and hard, and there'slittle danger of his giving us any more trouble."

  Whatever became of the captured Boche neither of them ever knew. Perhapshe was simply taken to the hospital and treated for his wound, as somany of his fellow Huns had been; and then again did time permit andopportunity arise he might be tried by drumhead courtmartial on theserious charge of being a spy.

  Having satisfied themselves with regard to the matter in dispute, thetwo boys later on returned once more to the camp and sought to securesome much needed sleep, fully conscious that the duties of the comingday would again sap their energies and bring them renewed chances forthrilling action.