Part 12

"Also bacon fat and the smell of our cooker. Sit down, you shall have something to eat and drink in a jiffy."

"You won't forget the wheel?"

"No. Stanbridge, get that wheel put right."

Among any score of British soldiers there will usually be found a factotum who can turn his hand to anything. It was not otherwise with these men of the Rutland Light Infantry. Having seen the work started, Hedley heaved a sigh of relief.

"Now we can talk," he said.

III

"You heard about the night raid? Well, we were completely cut off from the rest by a counter attack, from the flank. We tried to bomb our way back, lost heavily, got all muddled up. There seemed to be a whole brigade of Huns between us and our lines, so the only thing to be done was to give them the slip, and dodge around in the hope of finding a weak spot where we might break through. There are only twenty-four of us left. We managed to keep together, and were lucky enough to escape the Huns; but of course we got hopelessly lost. Just before daylight, dead beat, we stumbled into the wood yonder, not caring much what happened to us. In the early morning an old French farmer found us there. My hat! we felt pretty bad when he told us we were deep in the enemy's country, and a company of Huns billeted in his farm only half a mile away. Rummy, isn't it?--he's held on, working his farm in spite of everything, and the Huns don't seem to have bothered him much."

Here one of the men brought some freshly-fried bacon, biscuits, and light wine.

"Fall to!" Hedley went on. "It was a tremendous bit of luck, old Lumineau's finding us, because of this cave of his. It is on the outskirts of his farm, and he concealed here a lot of his spare stores when he had news that the Huns were coming up last September twelvemonth. The cave has had a history, it appears, and it's lucky again that the Huns don't know of it. The old farmer told me it used to shelter a famous band of outlaws centuries ago. During the Revolution a local nobleman's family lived in it for months. More recently it has been a store for smugglers running goods across the Belgian frontier. We're pretty safe here, though of course a strolling Hun may discover it any day, and then----"

"How did you happen to be in the wood when I came down?"

"We weren't there, but we heard your engine, and Stanbridge, who's got a wonderful ear, declared it was English, so we rushed up on the chance. If it hadn't been so dark and raining so hard, the Huns would certainly have seen or heard you; but you always had all the luck!"

"You've had a good share, anyway."

"We have, that's true. Old Lumineau has kept us well supplied, at Heaven knows what risk to himself. We're hanging on here in the hope of getting back some day. It's pretty hopeless, I expect; but I'm not going to give in till I must."

"Can I do anything for you?"

"I don't see how you can. We must trust to luck."

"When that wheel's straightened I'll fly back and report to your colonel."

"He can't do anything. Nothing short of a general push could gain this ground, and he won't risk hundreds for the sake of a score. Our only chance is to slip through when they're strafing one night; even then the odds are a hundred to one against us. Still, I dare say the C.O. would be pleased to know what's become of us, and I'll be glad if you'll tell him. But d'you think you're fit to fly back to-night after your gruelling?"

"Oh yes! I've had a bit of a shake, but a little rest will set me up. I've discovered a new battery the Huns have rigged up, and must report as soon as possible. Look: here's the spot."

He showed the mark recently made on his map.

"Good!" said Hedley, examining the map with interest. "But the Huns' trenches aren't marked so completely as on mine. Here you see we have them all plotted out: we know them as well as we know our own."

"That's useful. I say, Hedley, I don't see why we shouldn't make some practical use of your presence in the enemy's country, and get you away too."

"As for getting away, we shall have to depend on ourselves. As I said before, the C.O. won't risk hundreds for the sake of our little lot; and if he would, the Brigadier wouldn't allow it."

"I don't know. Could you make me a copy of the map so far as this neighbourhood is concerned, putting in the position of the cave?"

"Certainly: I'll scratch it in on a leaf from my order-book."

The rough drawing completed, Burton folded the paper and put it in his pocket, remarking, half in jest, half in earnest--

"If the Huns collar me, I'm afraid I'll have to eat it. Now this is my idea."

There ensued a long discussion, in the course of which Hedley passed from doubt to confidence and enthusiasm.

"Well, if you bring it off," he said in conclusion, "it'll be a tremendous score. You're a V.C. already: I don't see what more they can do for you--except make you a lord."

"My dear fellow! ... There's just one point. I ought to have a better landing-place than that wood. After to-night's affair I shall be nervous if there are trees about. Is there anything more suitable and safe?"

Hedley considered.

"There is," he said presently, "a little farther away. Beyond the wood the ground rises: it's the nearest thing to a hill these parts can show. Then it dips into a wide grassy hollow. That's your place. I'll get old Lumineau to show three small lights there to-morrow night at eleven. In the hollow they won't be seen by the Huns: besides, I'll get him to mask them except from the sky."

"That's capital. Well, if I don't turn up by eleven or soon after you'll know that either I have been winged on the way or that the Brigadier has turned down our little entertainment. In that case, you must do the best you can on your own."

"Right, old man. What I'm most afraid of is that you won't get away safely. There's no strafing to-night, and the Huns are bound to hear your engine. You'll make more noise going up."

"But it's dark: there's no moon; and I shall be well up before they spot me."

"Let's hope so."

"What's the time?"

"Ten minutes to nine. Better wait till midnight. Take a nap."

"I will. Wake me when the time comes."

Burton was one of those lucky mortals who can sleep anywhere at any time. In a few minutes he was sleeping soundly. At midnight Hedley roused him.

"Time's up," he said. "The rain has stopped, and the sky's clear: there's just enough starlight to show you the way. I'm sending Stanbridge and a squad to replace your wheel, carry the machine out and see you off. I'd better keep on the _qui vive_ here, I think."

"Good-bye, then--till to-morrow."

Following the men, Burton stole out of the cave and crept with extreme caution into the wood. The neighbourhood was quiet; the only sound was the booming of guns far away. The wheel was replaced; the 'plane was quickly dragged or lifted to the open hollow about a quarter of a mile away. Burton spent a few anxious minutes in looking over the engine by the light of his electric torch; then he strapped himself into his seat, and ordered Stanbridge to whirl the propeller while the other men clung to the rear of the machine.

"Race back like mad when I'm off," he said. "'Ware Huns!"

The engine began to roar.

"Stand clear!" he said.

The machine rolled off along the grass, gathering momentum; the tail lifted; the wheels rose clear; and she skimmed the grass like a huge bird. In a few seconds Burton was slanting upward on the first round of his spiral course.

Ten minutes later a party of German infantry, some fully clothed, others in various stages of deshabille, rushed breathlessly over the rise into the now deserted hollow.

"I am sure," said one of them, "the first sound came from somewhere about here. Then an aeroplane rose like a big black bird above the trees. I gave the alarm the moment I heard the engine."

"You must have been dreaming, stupid," said his lieutenant, irritable at being wakened. "There was no aeroplane here at nightfall; one couldn't have gone up if it hadn't come down first, and I must have heard that. Think yourself lucky I don't report you for sleeping on duty. Feldwebel, bring the men back."

The lieutenant turned on his heel and plodded grumbling back down the hill. The glare of Verey lights, the bursting of shells in the sky westward, might have confirmed the man's story; but Lieutenant Schnauzzahn was never the man to admit himself in the wrong.

IV

A little before eleven on the following night, the Germans on that part of the front were thrown into agitation by a sudden burst of unusually violent gun-fire from the British artillery. Such a bombardment was commonly preliminary to an infantry attack, and the German soldier, though brave enough, is no longer quite easy in mind at the prospect of meeting British "Tommies." The few men in the front trenches cowered on the ground or in their dug-outs; the communication and support trenches filled up; and Verey lights illuminated the No Man's Land across which they expected the enemy to swarm when the bombardment ceased.

The deafening din and crash stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The Germans rushed into their front trenches. But there was no sign of movement on the now brightly lit space. There was no rifle fire, no bombs, no sound of cheering. All was quiet. They were puzzled. Was the attack postponed? The shelling had not lasted long enough to do very much damage. Perhaps it was intended to frighten them. None would admit that, if such were the object, it had succeeded. For a time they stood to arms, watchful, suspicious, uneasy. But the bombardment was not resumed. Nothing showed above the British parapets. They loosed off a few shots to relieve their feelings; then settled down to the weary night-work of the trenches.

At the moment when this brief bombardment opened, Burton made his ascent from the aerodrome behind the British lines. At the moment when it ceased he was circling behind the German lines, some 2000 feet in the air, vainly endeavouring to pick up the pre-arranged signal-lights in the hollow. His flight had been carefully timed with the bombardment; he ought to have landed under cover of the noise; but the best arrangements are apt to be nullified by the unforeseen. A mist blanketed the ground, dense enough to obscure completely any lights of less than electric intensity.

This was baffling. It was also alarming. The purring of the engine, hitherto smothered by the continuous gun-fire, must now be distinctly audible below. One searchlight had already begun to play; before long the aeroplane would be in the full glare of their intersecting rays. What should he do? To go back meant the breakdown of the whole scheme; the opportunity might not recur. Yet to land haphazard would be to court disaster; to land at all might throw him into the hands of patrols sent out to capture him.

While he was thus uneasily turning over the problem, his eyes, strained earthward, suddenly discovered three tiny points of light arranged triangularly. They as suddenly disappeared; a puff of wind had for the moment broken the mist, which had then rolled back and obscured them. But the glimpse was enough to decide him. He dropped a thousand feet, wheeling, so far as he could judge by guesswork, around the spot at which he had seen the lights. Once more he caught sight of them; they were brighter. Another searchlight was sweeping the sky: it was neck or nothing now. Keeping the lights in view, he dived steeply, coming to earth with a sharp jolt, within twenty paces of the apex of the triangle. Before the machine had lost its impetus, however, it crashed against the stump of a tree at the edge of the hollow. Burton was thrown forward in his seat; fortunately the strap prevented him from being hurled out. Recovering from the shock, he loosened the strap, climbed down, glanced around, and seeing no one, proceeded to examine the forward part of the machine. He gave a gasp of dismay. The propeller was smashed.

The consequence of the disaster immediately flashed into his mind. He could only get back in company with the Rutlands. If they failed, he would fail too.

He had just assured himself that the damage was irreparable with such appliances as were at his command in the cave, when he became aware of light footsteps rapidly approaching. Expecting to see some of the Rutlands, who had been no doubt looking out for him, he raised his head towards the crest of the rise. Next moment he was in the grasp of two men, one of whom, mouthing guttural triumph, gripped his throat in a strangle hold.

V

About half an hour before Burton started from the aerodrome, Captain Bramarbas of the 19th Pomeranian infantry of the line laid down his knife and fork with a grunt of satisfaction. He wiped his lips, tossed off a glass of wine, and turning gleaming eyes upon Lieutenant Schnauzzahn of the same regiment, who sat opposite, he ejaculated--

"Gott sei dank! These French swine have one virtue: they can cook."

"It is wonderful!" the lieutenant agreed. "Who would have thought that an old French farmer would have had such resources? Cheap, too."

"Cheap indeed!" laughed the captain. "Between you and me, old Lumineau will have difficulty in turning our paper into good German money after the war ... Ist es aber entsetzlich--the noise of those swine."

The door had just opened to admit an old woman servant bearing coffee. From the adjoining room--the spacious farm kitchen given up to the captain's men--came a guttural roar. A hundred Germans feeding like one make a variety of unpleasant noises. It is not a mere coincidence, perhaps, that the Prussian loves a pig.

The officers took their cups of coffee, lit cigars, and lolled back in their chairs. The door closed behind the servant, reducing the sounds to a muffled hum, not loud enough to disturb the comfort of gentlemen. It was a pleasant hour. The day's work was done; they were three or four miles behind the firing line; the farm was a snug billet. They had been working late; supper had taken the place of dinner: when they had finished their cigars they might go with a good German conscience to bed.

Presently there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said the captain drowsily.

A sergeant entered, and stiffly saluted.

"What do you want? It is late. I gave you your orders."

"Herr Captain, I ask pardon for disturbing you, but----"

"Waste no time, Ascher. Say what you have to say quickly, confound you!"

"It is important, Herr Captain. For some time I have been suspicious of the farmer, as the Herr Captain knows, though he does not condescend to share my doubts. True, the farmer, though a Frenchman, is very obliging" (here the sergeant glanced for a moment at the remains on the table), "but I felt that his amiability was a mere blind, and I watched him."

"Ha! Now what did you see?" said the captain, sitting up. "If there is treachery----"

"Once or twice at night the farmer has gone out towards the wood yonder. I asked myself, why? There is no farm work at night. To-night I followed him. It was difficult, Herr Captain, for he moved very cautiously, stopping and looking behind and around him."

"That itself is suspicious. Well?"

"He made his way beyond the wood, up the hill, and down into the hollow on the other side, and there, Herr Captain, he placed three small lamps on the ground, so." He moved to the table, and arranged three bottles triangularly. "He lit them."

"And you? You seized him, of course?"

"I thought of doing so, Herr Captain, and of demanding an explanation; but I felt it was a matter for the Herr Captain's discretion----"

"And you left him! Idiot! They were signals, of course. You ought to have put them out, tied him up, and brought him to me in the morning. Now I lose an hour's sleep. Idiot!"

Captain Bramarbas was active enough now. He got up, buckled his belt and put on his helmet.

"Come, Schnauzzahn," he said, "we will see to this ourselves."

"Why not send a squad?" suggested the lieutenant.

"Ach! the swine are probably drunk. They are dull fools at the best. Come along! We'll slip out through the window, to avoid warning the servants."

The two officers and the sergeant climbed out of the window and hastened towards the hill. They had scarcely gone when the servant who had waited on them knocked at the door, and receiving no answer, hearing no voices, quickly opened it and looked in. She glanced from the vacant chairs to the open window.

"Eh, mon Dieu!" she muttered, and closing the door, hurried back to the kitchen.

The three Germans had covered about half the distance to the hill when the sound of heavy firing from the right broke upon their ears. They stopped, and stood for a few moments watching the shells bursting in rapid succession in the neighbourhood of the trenches. The captain swore.

"It looks like an attack," he growled. "These cursed English! We must make haste in case we are called up in support. No sleep to-night, Schnauzzahn."

They hurried on, and in five minutes more were creeping up the low incline. At the crest they halted and peered into the hollow. A figure was bending over one of the lamps, which emitted a brighter light into the mist.

"Go and capture him, Ascher," whispered the captain.

"Shall I bayonet him, Herr Captain?"

"No; we must use him. We can shoot him later."

The sergeant crept silently upon the old farmer from the rear. It was the work of a few seconds to overpower him and cast him helpless on the ground.

The two officers went forward. As they descended the slope they became aware that the lights were less visible.

"They're intended as signals to an aeroplane," said Schnauzzahn, approaching them rapidly. "See! They are directed above."

"Villainous treachery! But our good German wits will defeat it. Listen! Do you hear an engine?"

"No," replied the lieutenant after a brief silence.

"Then we have still time. Ascher, move the lamps near the slope. We'll spoil his landing!"

The sergeant carried the lamps to the foot of the slope, and placed them close together.

"Not so, idiot!" cried the captain, "arrange them as they were before. Don't you understand?"

Hardly had the lamps been rearranged in their triangular position when the whirring of an engine was heard through the thunder of the distant guns.

"Here he is!" said Bramarbas. "I hope he'll break his neck. If he doesn't, you and I will seize him, Schnauzzahn; Ascher will guard the farmer."

They waited. The aeroplane could be heard wheeling above. The bombardment suddenly ceased.

"The English have changed their minds. They can't have done much harm in ten minutes. So much the better!" said the captain. The searchlights began to play. "Potztausend! I hope he won't be shot down. Much better for us to capture him. Can he see the lights through the mist?"

"No doubt he has seen them. The sound has stopped. He has shut off the engine."

"Bring the Frenchman over the crest, Ascher, and don't let him cry out."

Thus it happened that Burton, after his unlucky accident, found himself in the grasp of Captain Bramarbas and Lieutenant Schnauzzahn of the 19th Pomeranian infantry of the line.

The German officers were mightily pleased with themselves. They had supped well: French cooking and French wine predisposed them to rosy views. Nothing more delightful could have crowned their day. A French spy, an English aeroplane and an English airman--all in a single haul! The Iron Cross had often been awarded for much less. And, of course, there was something behind it all. An enemy aeroplane would not land thus in the German lines unless there was some important object to be gained. The English, no doubt, were mad; but after all there was method in their madness. The next move must be to discover the nature of this Englishman's scheme, and his means of communication with the farmer spy. Then compliments, promotion, and the Iron Cross!

Some such thoughts as these raced through the Germans' minds in the moment of exultation, when, for the first time, their hands laid hold of English flesh.

"Hand over your revolver," said the captain in German. "Do you speak German?"

"No," said Burton, making no resistance as Schnauzzahn relieved him of the weapon. He felt very wretched.

Captain Bramarbas was disappointed. Neither he nor his lieutenant spoke English, and it did not occur to him for the moment that the Englishman might speak French.

"We'll march our prisoners down to the farm," he said to Schnauzzahn.

"Wait a moment. They may have accomplices who will remove or destroy the aeroplane as soon as our backs are turned. That would be a pity."

"What then? If one of us stays to guard the machine, and there are accomplices, he would have to meet an unknown number single-handed."

He stood pointing his revolver at Burton. They must find a way out of this quandary.

"Why not send Ascher to the farm to bring up some men?"

"Again, he might be sprung upon by the enemy. Of course, they would have no chance in the end, but for the present, until we know more, we had better remain all three together. Listen! Do you hear anything?"

"No."

"They may be lurking somewhere to take us unawares, though how they could conceive such a scheme, so mad, so insolent---- Ach! I have it."

The captain had indeed at last made up his mind--and, as the sequel showed, chosen the wrong course. It was, perhaps, no worse than another, for it was chosen in ignorance of the circumstances; but his calculation sprang from a typically German misconception of the psychology of an Englishman.

A sentry was always on duty at the door of the farm. A couple of revolver shots would give him the alarm, and in a few minutes the Pomeranians, swine in their hours of ease, but good soldiers nevertheless, would rush to their captain's assistance.

Burton stood motionless. Schnauzzahn was a little to his left. Bramarbas faced him, holding the revolver. The captain suddenly fired off two rapid shots, moving the revolver to the right so as to avoid hitting his prisoner.

The airman's life is punctuated by swift decisions, depends on the perfect co-ordination of act with thought. Burton's mind worked quicker than lightning. Before the German had time to cover him again, he shot out his right arm, rigid as a rod of metal, struck up the captain's wrist with a sharp jerk that sent the revolver flying, and a fraction of a second later dealt him with the left fist a fierce upper cut beneath the jaw, and lifted him into the bushes.

A bullet scorched Burton's cheek as he spun round to deal with Schnauzzahn. Another stung his left shoulder. But he hurled himself upon the agitated lieutenant, and with a sledge-hammer blow sent him to join his captain.

There was now only the sergeant to dispose of. That worthy stood over the prostrate farmer some little distance away, and though he had heard the thudding blow and the crash as each of his superiors fell, he had not clearly seen what had happened. Burton was dashing towards him when a Verey light illumined the scene. And then the sergeant was transfixed with amazement and terror, for on one side of him he saw the figure of a British airman, on the other, sprinting up towards the lip of the hollow, a score of silent forms in the well-known khaki. Ordinarily, no doubt, he was a brave man, but at such a moment as this valour melted in discretion. He flung up his hands.

The German officers meanwhile had picked themselves up. They were surrounded and seized. The light had died away.

"Quick!" said Hedley. "I hear the Huns rushing out of the farm. Where's Lumineau?"

The farmer had risen, and came to him.

"Get away to the cave," said Burton. "I'll be after you in a second: must fire the machine."