CHAPTER XVIII

RESCUE FROM THE SKY

With a file of soldiers on either side of them, the four boys were marched off to a dugout near at hand. Here a German outpost had been stationed to watch the river bank. It was not a large command, and the lieutenant in charge, being unable to speak English and having no interpreter at hand, after a few brusque attempts to question them gave it up. Then, after having had them searched, he committed them to the custody of a non-commissioned officer with directions that they were to be fed and sent to headquarters in the morning. They ate ravenously, and, not being permitted to talk to each other, found solace in sorely needed sleep.

When taken before the German officers, the friends were forced to undergo a strict and searching examination. Their questioners tried in every way, with pleadings alternating with threats, to get them to divulge information that might be useful to them, but in vain. The four Americans were absolutely uncommunicative, and at last the German who had been doing most of the questioning was forced to acknowledge defeat.

"_Donnerwetter!_" he growled. "Yankee pigs! It must be that they are so stupid that they do not know anything to tell. What do you think, Herr Lieutenant?" turning to one of his officers.

"I think it more likely that they are just obstinate, sir, like those cursed English," replied the officer addressed. "But perhaps a few months in a prison camp will incline them to answer more quickly when a German speaks to them." This was accompanied by a cruel smile, whose significance was hot lost on the Americans. The captain glared at them, but as they did not seem to weaken perceptibly, even under his high displeasure, he grumbled finally:

"Well, take them away, and we'll see how they act after a taste of prison life." As their guards were about to take them from the room, he continued, menacingly: "Remember, you Yankees, that the sooner you tell me what I want to know, the easier it will be for you. And in the end we'll make you talk. It is not well to oppose Germany's will too far."

But as the prisoners did not appear greatly frightened by these threats, the commander at last ordered the sergeant in charge to take the prisoners away, and turned again to his desk.

In spite of the critical situation in which they found themselves, Bart could not resist a surreptitious wink at his companions as they passed through the doorway, which was returned in kind by his graceless companions. But, although they had had the satisfaction of balking the German officers, they were not long in appreciating the discomforts of their present situation. When they reached the temporary prison camp, they were herded into a large tent, already overcrowded with French, English, and a few American prisoners. Soon after their arrival food was served out, although it hardly seemed worthy of the name. Watery soup, made by boiling turnips in water, and a small chunk of some tasteless substance supposed to be bread, constituted the meal. The boys, fresh from the wholesome and abundant food furnished by Uncle Sam, found it absolutely uneatable, and gave away their portions to some of the other prisoners, who appeared glad to get it.

"Wait until you've been here a few days," said one lanky Englishman, with a ghastly smile, "you'll get so thoroughly famished that you'll be able to go even that stuff," and he made a wry face.

"Perhaps so, if we can't find some way to get out," said Frank.

"Not as easy as it sounds," said the Englishman. "Although it has been done, of course. But a lot more have been shot trying it than have ever got away."

"Might as well get shot as die of starvation," remarked Tom.

This opinion evidently appealed to Tom's comrades, who looked significantly at him. From that look each knew that the others were ready to risk everything to gain their freedom. The Englishman, however, seemed unconvinced, and presently left them.

As night came on, they cast about for some place to sleep, but met with little success. The only place to lie was on the ground, but by that time the four friends were so tired that sleep, even under any hardship, was desirable. They finally settled down in a corner that appeared a little less crowded than the rest. However, before going to sleep they tried to formulate some plan of escape, but with indifferent success.

"About all we can do," said Bart finally, "is to hold ourselves in readiness to make use of the first chance of escape that comes along. And if these Germans are all as stupid as the ones we've seen so far, it oughtn't to be very difficult."

"Well, when the chance comes, we won't let any grass grow under our feet, that's certain," said Frank. "But now, I'm dog-tired, and I'm going to see if I can't get a little sleep. And what's more, I'd advise you fellows to do the same."

"He who sleeps, dines," quoted Tom, with a somewhat rueful grin. "I hope there's more in that old saying than there is in most of them."

"Right you are," said Bart, "but something seems to tell me I'm going to be hungry in the morning, just the same."

Bart was right. After a restless night, the boys woke with ravenous appetites, and managed to eat most of the unpalatable fare that was passed around. Not long after this they saw the sergeant who had had charge of them the previous day picking his way through the crowd, evidently looking for some particular object. At last he caught sight of the Americans, and immediately headed toward them.

"Come," he commanded, roughly, in his halting English. "Orders have come for your removal."

"Where to?" inquired Frank. "Silence! Do as you are told, and ask no questions!" commanded the German.

"For two cents I'd jump on him and choke the dog's life out of him!" muttered Tom, but his friends laid restraining hands on him.

"Nothing doing, Tom," warned Billy. "We'd be playing against stacked cards in a game like that. Take it easy now, and maybe our chance will come later."

Meanwhile the sergeant had started off, and the friends had no choice but to follow him. He led them out of the tent, where a squad of soldiers was lined up. At a nod from the sergeant, these surrounded the boys, and at a curt word of command they all started off.

They were soon outside the confines of the camp, and marching along what had once been a perfect road, but was now badly broken up by the combined effects of shellfire and heavy trucking. The soldiers talked among themselves in low gutturals, and the boys, by piecing together words that they caught here and there, gathered that they were being taken to some higher official for further questioning.

"You see," said Billy, "they know we were inside their lines a considerable time before they caught us, and so they are paying particular attention to us. I guess they think we may know more than we've told them so far." This with a wink at his friends.

"We sure have told them a lot," put in Bart, grinning. "And, just to be perfectly fair, I suggest that we tell the next Boche who questions us just as much as we told the last one."

"Fair enough," agreed Tom. "No favoritism has always been my motto."

"No talking among the prisoners," commanded the sergeant, threateningly, and the four friends, having said about all they wanted to say, anyway, relapsed into silence.

For several miles the little group plodded along, often meeting detachments of German infantry, who scowled sullenly at the Americans as they passed.

The boys were far from happy, in spite of the light-hearted attitude they presented to their captors. They all knew that if they could not effect an escape their chance for life was small, as, on account of their having been inside the German lines so long before being captured, the Huns would seize the opportunity of calling them spies, and mete out the quick end that is accorded to such. They were walking along, each one immersed in his own gloomy thoughts, when suddenly a sound from above caused them to look quickly up toward the blue sky.

What they saw caused their hearts to beat faster and hope to spring up again in their breasts. For, skilled as they were in such matters, they recognized the airplane up above, whose roaring exhaust had first attracted their attention, as one of the Allied type.

It was coming toward them at high speed, flying low, and as it rapidly neared them the four friends, forgetting their German captors, waved their hands wildly to the pilot, whom they could see, as the aeroplane came closer, peering down over the side of the body. The Germans, on their part, were so terrified by the approach of this huge enemy machine, that they seemed to forget all about their prisoners, and in fact about everything except their individual safety. With wild yells of terror they scattered this way and that, all except the sergeant. He, seeing his men running in every direction, snarled out a curse, and whipped out his automatic pistol.

"I'll do for you Yankees, anyway, he hissed," and leveled the pistol at them. But even as his finger trembled on the trigger, Frank's fist, with the force of a sledgehammer, came with a crashing impact against the point of the German's jaw, and the Hun went down, his pistol exploding harmlessly toward the sky. Frank, with the light of battle in his eye, seized the fallen man's weapon and looked around for the other Germans. But by this time they had all gotten out of effective pistol range, and after emptying the weapon in the direction of the fleeing figures, Frank and the others turned their attention to the aeroplane, which by now was manoeuvring for a landing.

The airship came down in great spirals, and finally took the ground with hardly a jar, running along a hundred feet or so and then coming to a halt.

As the boys started running toward it, Tom ejaculated: "Say, fellows, my eyes may be playing me tricks, but if that isn't Dick Lever at the wheel you can call me a German!"

"I think it is Dick, myself," agreed Frank. "And if this isn't a case of the 'friend in need,' I miss my guess."

It was indeed as they thought. The pilot was an old friend of theirs, but one whom they had not seen for some time. Now, as they raced toward the airplane, he in turn recognized them, and raised a delirious shout of joy.

"Tumble into this bus just as fast as you can, fellows," he cried, "we've got to get out of this mighty quick. You can explain the mystery of your being here after we get started."

"But can you carry the whole bunch of us?" asked Billy.

"Easily," replied one of the two observers, who had not spoken up to now. "We've just dropped our load of bombs on a few German supply depots, and now we're running back light."

"All right, then," said Billy, "in we go!" And, suiting the action to the word, the four friends swarmed into the airplane, filling the cramped passenger carrying space to overflowing. Meantime, the Germans, having found cover, had opened up a brisk rifle fire against the aeroplane, and bullets began to sing through the framework. One of the observers leaped to the ground, gave the propeller a vigorous twist, and as the motor began to roar clambered aboard as the big plane started over the rough ground, bumping and jolting, but rapidly gaining speed. The Germans broke from their shelter in pursuit, firing wildly as they ran, but although some of their shots came close, none came near enough to do any real damage. In a few seconds, in answer to a quick movement from Dick Lever, the big bombing machine left the ground, and amid a parting rain of bullets from the Germans, started to ascend in long, sweeping spirals.

The friends were about to congratulate themselves on their safe escape, when suddenly one of the observers, who had been scanning the horizon closely, pointed behind them, and exclaimed:

"Just as I thought! Those two Boche planes that we saw getting ready to come after us just after we dropped our last bomb are coming up fast. Look!"

All twisted about, and saw that it was as the observer had said. High up in the sky two swift, darting objects were coming in pursuit. The American machine was built more for carrying capacity than for speed, and in addition was heavily loaded. Every advantage was with the swift German machines. Their pilots no doubt realized this, for now they headed directly for the Americans, descending in a long slant that gave them tremendous speed.

"All right," said Lever, coolly, "if they're going to come down, it may be a good idea for us to go up," and, suiting the action to the word, he elevated the nose of the big plane skyward, and they started to climb steeply. The American machine was equipped with a tremendously powerful motor, and this, combined with its great wing spread, enabled it to climb with great rapidity, in spite of the heavy load it was carrying. The Germans had not counted on this, and the result was that they miscalculated their distances, passing beneath the American flyer instead of above it, as they had intended. They both turned quickly and started to climb, but by this time the American aviators had trained their two machine guns on the Germans, and opened fire.

At first this seemed to have little effect, and the Germans ascended rapidly, while their machine gun operators, although as yet unable to use their deadly weapons, sent a hail of revolver bullets whistling through the wings and rigging of the American machine. But now the concentrated fire from the American machine was beginning to have effect. One of the German planes hesitated, quivered, and suddenly its right wing, with its wire stays severed by the machine gun bullets, crumpled up. The crippled aeroplane staggered wildly, suddenly turned on its right side, and pitched steeply downward.

The boys in the American airplane gazed at each other with white faces, but they had little time to devote to thoughts of the fallen, for by now the remaining German machine was on a level with them, and its machine gunner opened fire. The Americans, crouching low to avoid the murderous stream of bullets, returned the fire from both their machine guns, with a deadliness of purpose and aim for which the German was no match. Suddenly a tiny flame appeared in the body of the German machine, grew with lightning rapidity, and in a few seconds one side of the machine was enveloped in leaping yellow flames.

"Punctured the gas tank!" exulted Lever. "They're done for now."

And he was right. The machine gun fire from both fighting planes died out, and the boys could see the Germans vainly trying to beat out the hungry flames. Their efforts were useless, however, and in a few seconds the German machine, a roaring mass of flame and black smoke, dropped downward as swiftly as a stone. As it went, the boys saw two figures hurl themselves out into space, and then everything was hidden in a haze of billowy smoke.

"That's awful!" exclaimed Tom, drawing in his breath with a great sigh, while all relaxed from the terrible tension they had been under.

"Awful, yes," said Dick Lever. "But it's only what they would have done to us if they had been able. Instead of 'live and let live,' it's 'kill or get killed' in this game."

Frank nodded his head gloomily, but none of the boys felt like talking then, and sat silent as their pilot got his bearings and then straightened out swiftly in the direction of the American lines.

With the roar of the motor in their ears and the rush of wind past their faces, much of the horror of the deadly air battle was swept from their minds, and they began to enjoy the exhilaration of their first flight. The distant earth streamed rapidly by, like a swiftly flowing river, and a wonderful panorama was spread out below them. It was an exceptionally clear day, and they could see for many miles in every direction. Below them, groups of gray clad figures, after a glance in the direction of the soaring monster overhead, broke for cover, or, shaking impotent fists, trudged stolidly onward, contemptuous of one more danger among the many that daily surrounded them.

"No prison camp for us this time," exulted Frank, as he looked down at his enemies.

"We wouldn't have been in a prison camp long," declared Tom. "Those fellows had picked us out for a firing squad. They were going to get all they could out of us, and then about six feet of earth would have been our size."

"I'll bet that sergeant's jaw aches yet from the clip that Frank handed him," chuckled Billy happily.

"I skinned my knuckles," said Frank, looking at them ruefully.

"Never mind," laughed Bart. "You never hurt them in a better cause."

"We can't be far from the lines now," shouted Frank, in Dick's ear.

"Pretty close," responded the aviator. "We ought to be down fifteen minutes from now."

And his estimate proved very nearly correct. Soon the boys of the old Thirty-seventh could recognize the familiar landmarks of their own encampment, and, with one impulse, they gave three rousing cheers.