Читать книгу Two American Boys with the Allied Armies - Sherman Crockett - Страница 5

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“Let me go first, won’t you, Jack, please?”

There was no time for argument, so the other stepped aside and permitted his chum to pass down the ladder that led from the lower part of the structure. Since haste was a prime object with the boys just then it can be understood that they made record time, and were at the bottom almost “between breaths,” as Jack put it.

“I hear it sputtering somewhere!” exclaimed Amos, excitedly, as he turned this way and that without apparently being able to make any sort of discovery.

“And I can smell burnt powder plainly!” echoed Jack, not content to stand still and look around, but beginning a hasty search.

It was a moment of intense anxiety to both lads. They could not tell how long a fuse had been left by the trooper who was the last to ride away. He had seemed to be in something of a hurry, though this might spring from a desire to catch up with his comrades before they had gone very far on their way.

Jack used common-sense in his search. He noted first of all which way the air current was setting, and this told him the fumes of the burning powder must be coming toward him from a certain quarter.

When the other boy, actually shivering with suspense, saw Jack give a sudden leap forward and strike downward with his foot he judged that the other must have made an important discovery of some sort.

“Did you find it?” he asked, eagerly.

“Yes, come here and see,” Jack told him.

Upon looking, Amos discovered the bomb, which was only a small affair, though no doubt of tremendous power, for those Germans were master-hands at manufacturing terrible weapons of destruction, chemistry being one of their strongest holds.

“Oh! you got it just in time, seems like, Jack,” observed Amos, as he noted the short fuse remaining after his cousin had extinguished the fire.

“It might have lasted half a minute longer, I reckon,” said Jack, coolly. “Plenty of time for us to get clear, if only we hadn’t been afraid of being seen by the cavalrymen.”

“What next?” demanded Amos, who many times felt willing to put the responsibility of affairs on the broad shoulders of his chum.

“We must get out of this, that’s sure,” replied Jack. “The only thing I don’t like is that when there isn’t an explosion that trooper may think it his duty to gallop back here again so as to start things afresh.”

“But we ought to be somewhere among the bushes by that time, hadn’t we?” suggested Amos, uneasily.

“I have a better plan than that,” he was informed. “By now the man who fired the fuse is out of sight. I imagine he has drawn in his horse, and is waiting to hear the explosion. Amos, get outside where you can skip along when I come rushing out in a big hurry.”

“Are you meaning to put a match to the fuse again?” asked Amos.

“Yes, there is no danger of it’s going off before we get away; but don’t stop to argue about it, please. It’s the best thing we can do.”

Accordingly Amos bustled off, and as soon as he had left the interior of the old windmill structure, Jack scratched a match. He joined his chum a few seconds later.

“Now streak it like fun!” he exclaimed, and the pair started off as fast as they could run.

Jack had figured it all out, and made certain that they were headed in the right direction. He did not fancy running slap up against that trooper returning to see why the bomb failed to explode.

Having used up about all the time he had figured on, Jack suddenly drew his companion down to the ground.

“We’re safe enough here,” he gasped. “Now watch and see what happens!”

He had hardly spoken when there came a tremendous shock, such as both of them had felt when a violent burst of thunder followed close on the heels of a flash of lightning during an electrical storm.

“Whee!” ejaculated Amos as, looking backward, he saw the windmill being hurled skyward in many fragments.

Saw the windmill being hurled skyward in many fragments.—Page 34.

They heard the patter of the scattered parts falling back to earth. Then came a heavy thud of horse’s hoofs from a point not far distant.

“There, you see he was riding back to make sure of his work,” said Jack, meaning, of course, the trooper to whom had been assigned the task of rendering the windmill useless as a conning tower for the Allies. “When those Germans get an order they believe in carrying it out, no matter the cost.”

“I hope he’s satisfied now,” remarked the second boy. “It seems that he didn’t glimpse us running either, which I count a lucky thing.”

“Yes, because he might have chased after us, and thought it fun to jab us with the sharp tip of that lance he carries,” chuckled Jack. “These Uhlans make me think of certain Western Indians I used to meet up with when on the ranch. For the life of me I can’t understand what use they make of such an old-fashioned weapon as a lance in these days of Maxims and modern firearms. Still, they know what they’re doing.”

“Nothing to keep us from skipping out now, is there, Jack?”

“Surely not, and we’ll write down the adventure of the windmill as a stirring memory of this war business. Come on, Amos.”

“I see you’re heading toward the east, and I take it you mean to strike that bunch of British making for the front? Everywhere we go we keep on asking for information concerning one Frank Bradford; but so far we don’t seem to have met with any great good luck. Still, I’m hoping for the best. With such a chum as you at my right hand, a fellow would be silly to despair.”

“It’s a long lane that has no turning, remember,” remarked Jack, as they commenced to walk along at a smart pace.

“My brother simply told me in one of his short letters that he had taken that name because it belonged to our mother, who was a Bradford. I’m certain it was under it he must have enlisted. Just how he could get a berth in the British army, being by birth an American, puzzles me; but then he may have hoodwinked them about that; and they were in such need of likely fellows as Frank, they shut their eyes and took him on.”

So they conversed as they walked along. Half a mile was soon covered. Jack had learned to keep his eyes about him constantly. It was the education of the ranch that caused him to do this more than any suspicion of threatening peril. So it came about he again made a discovery that Amos failed to note.

“Look up, Amos!” he exclaimed, suddenly.

“Why, there’s another aeroplane!” cried the other, as he obeyed; “two of them in fact, making three in all. The air is full of the big dragon-flies, seems like; and Jack, wouldn’t you say two of them are manœuvring around the other one that’s built along different lines?”

“Unless I miss my guess,” said Jack, soberly, “that’s a German machine. They use the Taube model almost exclusively, as it seems to answer their purposes. Now, I’ve got a notion that Taube pilot must have been doing some scouting, and was trying to make his own lines when he was cut off by these aeroplanes of the Allies. Look how they block his efforts to get past, will you? He rises and falls, but every time one of the other machines is in the way.”

“There, did you see that puff of smoke from the German craft?” cried Amos. “Yes, and both of the others are shooting, too. Why, Jack, just to think of it; we’re watching a regular battle in the air between rival monoplanes! Doesn’t it make your blood tingle to see them manœuvre?”

“The Taube man is getting in hot quarters, I should say,” observed the ranch boy, as they stood and stared. “There goes a gun from over where the British force is advancing; yes, and listen to the bombardment, would you? They are firing shrapnel. You can see the white puffs of smoke where the shells burst.”

“He’s doing his best to get clear, for a fact, Jack. That pilot is daring enough, and so far seems to have held his own. Somehow I can’t help but admire him, even if our sympathies are with the Allies.”

“A brave man is worth admiring, no matter on which side he fights,” was the comment of the second boy; “but there isn’t much chance he’ll be able to slip by his enemies. They’re too swift for the Taube man, it seems like. And when he drops down, those gunners are going to fairly pelt him with shrapnel.”

“Oh! there he goes with a swoop!” gasped Amos; “but no, he seems to recover, and holds his own still. He’s a sure-enough jim-dandy pilot, let me tell you, Jack! Few bird men could have done that dip and come up smiling again.”

“Well, there’s no need of our standing here any longer,” observed the other boy. “We can watch while we walk along. I’d hate to miss connections with that troop, for somehow or other I keep hoping we may run across a clue worth while.”

This seemed to suit Amos very well, and they continued their tramp, keeping up a watch of the strange fight that was going on far up toward the fleecy clouds. If either of them stumbled occasionally on account of the deep interest they were taking in the wonderful exhibition of skill and daring being paraded before their eyes it was not to be wondered at under the circumstances.

The almost incessant roar of the guns, together with the crash of bursting shrapnel shells far above them had effectually drowned that dull, distant sound which from time to time had come to their ears, being caused by heavy ordnance battering some fortified place near the coast. Jack had even suggested that it might be the British battleships bombarding Zeebrugge, in order to damage the submarine base the Kaiser had instituted there.

Twice again did Amos have occasion to declare he believed the Taube had certainly received its finishing stroke, for it acted in an eccentric manner, and seemed to flutter like a wounded eagle of the skies. When on both occasions he saw that it recovered in time to elude the swoop of the Allies’ machines his praise grew louder than ever.

“I’m almost ready to wish that fellow gets away scot-free, Jack; he certainly deserves to win out!” he declared, enthusiastically.

“I reckon he’s got something with him he considers worth fighting for to the last gasp,” remarked the other; “but every minute this thing keeps up his chances decrease. He makes me think of a winded steer tottering along, and so exhausted that it seems a shame to rope him. There, that time he must have been badly battered when the shrapnel burst close alongside!”

“He’s winging down again, all right!” exclaimed Amos, “and this time it means he’s got to the end of his rope. His engine has been put out of commission most likely; and, Jack, see, he’s heading right at us!”

“That’s right!” echoed the other; “and p’raps we’ll be in at the death, after all!”

The Taube was falling very fast, despite every effort of the expert pilot to volplane earthward without the use of his engine. Apparently the machine must have been badly crippled by the shower of shrapnel to which it was lately exposed, and in addition the daring aviator may have received wounds that prevented him from properly fulfilling his duties.

As the two boys stood there staring, they saw the aeroplane sailing lower and lower until it seemed to be almost skimming the surface of the earth.

“There! he’s jumped out into that patch of bushes over yonder!” exclaimed Amos in renewed excitement, “and the machine has pitched down further on. He did his level best, Jack, but the game was too one-sided for him. Wonder is he living or dead?”